A Home That Never Was

Asher adjusted the straps of her worn backpack, her mind buzzing with conflicting emotions. The letter confirming her scholarship to an out-of-state university lay folded in her pocket, a beacon of hope and a curse. It was her ticket out, a lifeline to escape the suffocating walls of her family’s house. But each time she glanced at her younger sister, Asaiah, sitting silently on the edge of her bed, Asher’s heart clenched.

“I can’t leave you here,” Asher said, breaking the heavy silence. Her voice was low, laced with fear and guilt.

Asaiah didn’t look up. She stared at her hands, trembling slightly as she picked at the loose threads of her sweater. “What choice do you have? You’ve worked so hard for this, Ash. You deserve a life outside of… this.” Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

“This” was the ticking time bomb they called home. Their parents had made it clear: nothing in this house belonged to them. Every chair, every picture frame, every meal—it was all for their younger brother, Xavier. He had been raised to believe that women were beneath him, that they existed to serve and obey. Their mother reinforced these beliefs with cold indifference toward her daughters, only showing warmth when Xavier was in the room.

Their father, once the voice of reason, had become a shadow of his former self. Asher remembered a time when he celebrated her achievements, when he stood up for fairness, but those days were gone. Now, in the name of "keeping the peace," he turned a blind eye to Xavier’s outbursts, confronting the sisters instead. “Don’t provoke him,” he would say. “He’s under a lot of pressure.” The implication was always clear: their safety was their responsibility, not his.

“You think I don’t see the way he looks at you? At me?” Asher’s voice was sharp now. “He hates us, Asaiah. He hates what we represent—freedom, independence, anything that threatens his fragile ego. And one day…” She trailed off, the words too horrible to say aloud.

Asaiah flinched but didn’t argue. She knew. She’d felt the crackling energy of his temper, the way his fists clenched when she spoke too loudly or moved too slowly. Each day felt like walking a tightrope over a pit of fire, and she was exhausted.

“I’m scared, Ash,” Asaiah admitted, tears pooling in her dark eyes. “I don’t have your smarts or your scholarship. I’m stuck here, with no way out. And if you leave, I don’t know if I’ll survive.”

Asher knelt in front of her sister, gripping her hands tightly. “We’ll figure it out,” she said fiercely. “I don’t care if I have to work three jobs. I don’t care if we have to live in a tiny, crappy apartment. We’ll get out together.”

“But how?” Asaiah asked, her voice breaking. “You leave in two weeks. I have nothing.”

“You have me,” Asher said, her voice unwavering. “And we have each other. That’s enough to start.”

---

That night, Asher sat at the kitchen table, scribbling furiously in her notebook. The faint light from the overhead bulb cast shadows on the peeling wallpaper. Asaiah sat beside her, quieter now but watching her sister with cautious hope.

“We need a plan,” Asher said. “I’ll leave for school and find a job as soon as I get there. I’ll save up enough to get us a place. Until then, you keep your head down. Avoid him as much as you can.”

“What if he…” Asaiah’s voice faltered.

“He won’t,” Asher cut in, though her own voice trembled. “If he does, you call me. Day or night, I’ll come back.”

Asher didn’t mention their father. She couldn’t trust him anymore. His version of peace meant silencing the victims instead of confronting the abuser. He had learned to turn his face away from the damage Xavier caused, so long as the house remained quiet.

---

The days passed too quickly. The night before Asher was set to leave, Asaiah couldn’t sleep. She lay awake, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, her mind swirling with dark thoughts. What if Asher didn’t come back? What if Xavier’s anger turned into violence? What if she didn’t survive long enough to escape?

Asher found her in the early hours of the morning, sitting on the floor with her knees pulled to her chest. “Hey,” she said softly, sitting down beside her.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough,” Asaiah admitted, her voice barely audible.

“You are,” Asher said firmly. “You’ve survived this long, haven’t you? You’re stronger than you know.”

---

The morning of Asher’s departure was filled with unspoken words and heavy goodbyes. Their parents barely looked up as she walked out the door with her suitcase, muttering something about not expecting her to come back. Xavier smirked from the corner, his disdain palpable.

Their father approached her just as she reached the door. “Good luck out there,” he said, his voice quiet but hollow. He placed a hand on her shoulder, but it felt heavy with guilt rather than pride.

“Thanks,” Asher said, her voice clipped. She didn’t have the energy for pretense.

At the bus station, Asher hugged Asaiah tightly. “Take care of yourself,” she whispered. “This isn’t goodbye. It’s just the start of our escape.”

Asaiah nodded, clinging to her sister as if letting go would shatter her completely. “Be safe, Ash. I’ll wait for you.”

As the bus pulled away, Asaiah stood alone on the curb, the weight of their plan pressing heavily on her chest. She didn’t know if the universe would be on their side, but she clung to the faint hope that together, they could rewrite their story.

For now, survival was enough. And tomorrow, she would take the first step toward freedom.