Broken Canvas, Unbroken Spirit Rises

Castil

ough to stop the wave of rage that consumed Axel. He turned from my mother's still form, his eyes

kward over the debris of my shattered dreams. An easel, its twisted metal frame now a weapon, caught

e violence. The impact rattled my teeth, and a high-pitched ringing filled my ears, momentarily drowning out all other sounds. I lay there, disoriented, staring up at Ax

have regained consciousness, but her face was pale, a thin trickle of blood still running down her temple. She took in th

e, her trembling hands reaching to help me sit up

contorted. "Get away from her, Dalia!" he sna

d, shielding me with her body. "There has t

ht shatter. "Misunderstanding?" he scoffed, a sneer twisting his lips. "There's no misunderstanding

it past my mother's head. It smashed against the wall behind

, his words piercing me like daggers. "An

baby. He knew. But how? My mind raced, trying to connect the dots between his destru

yself up despite the pain. "There's no other

la?" He pulled his phone from his pocket, his finger swiping furiously. He

ccusatory, implying an affair. And then, there was a picture. A grainy, poorly lit photo of a woman's slender hand, adorned with a distinctive ring-a ring I recognized as my own-holdi

in the photo didn't look like mine. It was too slender, the nails

ely a whisper. "That's not me. That's... that's

sions? That bird, you made it for me, Keyla. And that rin

my voice rising in desperation. "I

hetic excuses. You think I'm blind? You think I'm stupid enough to believe

ested on a rumpled silk sheet. And next to it, partially obscured, were a pair o

pun, colors and shapes blurring into an indistinct mess. No. This couldn

ause even Axel seemed to pause, a flick

res, Axel?" I stammered, my voice barel

the phone, then back at me, his eyes

y into my mind. Brenda. She had been at our house just days ago, "helping" me clean the studio. She had lingered in our bedroom, making comments about my lack of organizat

ter taste on my tongue. "Your mother.

lame my mother for your slutty behavior, Keyla! She saw you with h

e stolen them! She took the ring, and the carving, and she set this w

y a fresh surge of fury. "You BITCH!" he roared, his voice shaking the very foundations of the ruined st

reath, forcing a guttural cry from my lips. I doubled over, clutching my side, gasping for air. My mother screa

mother loves me! She would never lie to me about this!" He kicked me again, harder this time, his

th my legs, my arms, my back. Each blow echoed the pain in my heart, a testament to the man he had become. The man who would rather believe a fabricate

s a desperate, choked sob. "You're g

stream of venom. "You deserve this, Keyla! You deserve every bit of this! You t

this time from the tears that streamed down my face, hot and stinging against my skin. He was destroying me, piece by ag