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Astrea never thought it would come to this. She knew it was wrong, that what was happening wasn’t correct, but what could she do?
She sat, back pressed against the wall; she could hear each crack as skin hit skin. It was bad this time. Not that it hadn’t happened before, but the begging had stopped; that was never a good sign.
He hadn’t been this angry in months, something bout a deal at work, or was it Mr. Marcos across the street? She couldn’t remember, but it didn’t matter anymore. He had come home in a rage. Not the slow builds of some night, but the type where just the sound of him unlocking the door raised her guard.
He had slammed the door shut behind him so hard, she had felt it in her bones, then she heard the clinking of glass; already he had turned to the whisky. There was the sound of the static, then voices filled the house; good, the TV would distract him.
Or it should have, but the sound of boots stomping on the floor got louder; he was coming for her,
She was at her desk at the time, head bent over calculus homework; she turned to the door, heart in her stomach, when it was thrown open. The man filled the doorway, blocking light from the hallway,
“Where is that stupid cunt?” His voice was harsh but low; he never raised it; he knew the walls were thin.
Astrea tucked her head down. “Mama went to the store; we ran out of oregano and turmeric for dinner.” The man took a step forward, invading her space, gripping her by her hair. He pulled her head up to face him.
“Look at me when you speak to me; I didn’t raise you to be impolite.” Astrea stared up at a face similar to her own, the same cheekbones, the same dimples, the same eyebrows, but his eyes were different,
They mirrored in color, but his were full of anger; she couldn't remember a time when they weren’t.
“Yes papa, I’m sorry.” Astrea’s eyes jumped around: the cracks on the wall, the plants on the shelves, polaroids on the wall, and her eyes stopped
The polaroids are few in number but carry the same people in them: Her current best friend MJ and her are smiling; the next is MJ and her getting ready for Halloween dressed as Daphne and Velma, then photos of Astrea and a teen boy, fluffy brown hair and pretty hazel eyes; they sat hunched over homework stars in both their eyes. The same boy and her lay asleep on a couch in the next photo, lying comfortably, not a worry other than staying as close as possible; then the photos switch to Astrea and her older brother. There's only 1 taken when neither knew they were being watched; Astrea's eyes are captured full of tears as she hugs her brother tight. It was the last time they saw each other, not that they knew that.
“I got a call from your school; I heard you got into a fight? You think that you can make trouble, that you're better than others?” Astrea snapped her gaze to her father,
“No!” She almost squealed, “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time; I wasn’t even evolved”
“Don’t lie to me!” He roared, rearing his hand back; he smacked her across the face,
Astreas’s head swam; she felt as if cotton had been stuffed in her ears. Her heart thumped in time with her head. How did this happen? She didn’t even realize the school had her father's number; tears brimming in her eyes, she looked back at her father,
“I’m sorry, sir; it won’t happen again.” Astrea's voice was meek, praying to anyone that he would lose interest, but he didn’t. Using his hand in her hair, he forced her to stand, yanking her out of her bedroom and down the hallway,
“I raised you as a normal girl, to be polite, and here you are fighting in school, talking back to your father.” He shoved her towards the kitchen island. Turning towards the cabinets, he grabbed rice and moved towards the wall,
He sprinkled the rice on the ground, each grain sounding like a shackle to Astrea; she knew what was to come; it wasn’t the first time she was punished like this. She stepped forward before lowering herself to her knees, the grains of rice like sharp rocks against her bones.
“I try time and time again to discipline you, and again you act out.” Her father loomed over her before turning away. “You stay till I release you.”
Time dripped by slowly, with only the wall as company; Astrea's mind wandered inward. It was easier to deal with the pain if she detached herself; noise blurred around her, a companion but not a friend. She didn’t know how much time had passed; she learned early not to make a sound during it. If she were quiet, he would send her away quicker.
Mind wrapped up in itself, Astrea didn’t recognize the sounds of laughter getting closer, the key turning in the door, nor the feminine voice thanking someone for their help with carrying the groceries. It was only when her father's anger spiked that she paid attention.
“You Whore!” The sharp sound of skin hitting skin jolted Astrea's nerves. “Getting the groceries was you? No! Your whoring yourself out,” her father's voice was low, each word like a dagger,
“No!” A light voice cried, already broken with tears, “He was just helping; he insisted, Please, Gregory”
“Oh, was he? He insisted on helping; well, of course he did.” Gregory hissed, “I'm not dumb, Elara; I know how you work, but your Mine!!” There was another smack, a thump of heavy weight against wooden floor, then more sounds of flesh hitting flesh,
“Please, please stop this. I didn’t do anything. I'm sorry. I'm all yours promise. I'm sorry,” Elara's voice reached a despreat high pitched plee towards the end, with a huff and stumbling, Astrea, out of the corner of her eye, caught sight of her mother,
Hair fluffed and knotting from rough fingers, mascara dripping, and concealer smudged, showing day-old bruises hidden under. She was a mess, fear shining bright in her eyes; Elara's eyes widened at the sight of her daughter on the ground.
Astrea gasped as a hand yanked her up by the hair. “Get in your room! I don’t wanna see a hair of you.” With a shove, Astrea ran to her room, turning around as she shut the door, peeking her father dragging her mother down the hall.
That was how she ended up here, knees and head aching, pressed as tightly in the corner of her room as possible; She was tired, it had been hours, but fear kept her frozen. What if Mama was gone? What if tonight was the night he turned on her? A sharp crash outside her window caused her to flinch,
Crawling forward slowly, she peeked through the curtain. A teen stood on the fire escape to the side of her window; the teen rubbed his head, staring at the ladder where it lay on the ground, seeming to have fallen from its hinge. Astreas watched as the teen picked the ladder up as if it weighed nothing, leaning in against its old hinge. She giggled as the ladder slid, trying to fall back down.
The teen whipped his head around, and with a gasp, Astrea jerked back, shaking the curtains. On her back, Astrea waited with bated breath for any noise; after another moment, she sat up, reaching toward the curtain. She peeked out again, gasping as she made eye contact with the teen,
Hazel eyes stared back as a shy grin spread across the teen's face; he waved his hand, then beckoned her out. Seeing his face clearly, Astrea knew this boy, Peter Parker, the kid from the fight today; she really wasn't involved in it, only walking by when the teachers finally arrived to break it up. With a glance back at the door, she reached for the window lock before pushing it open,
Leaning out, Astrea smiled at the teen, “Hi Peter.”
“Astrea, I didn’t know you were still awake!” Peter's voice was loud, not in the way her father's was, but in the way a puppy was excited to see its owner. “I tried to call you but-.”
“Shh!” Astrea shushed him, a sharp glance at the door behind her. “Here, help me out, please”
Climbing onto the window ledge, she reached her hand out, clasping it with Peter; she stood on her window ledge. One leg forward, she made the slight lunge to the fire escape. There, Astrea stood face to face with Peter; his eyes scanned over her face before his eyebrows furrowed.
“What happened?” His hand reached up, hovering over her cheek, where the imprint of her father's hand lay.
Astrea rolled her eyes, brushing his hand off. “I’m fine, Petey. I had a battle with the stairwell and lost.” She glanced away before looking back at Peter; his face hadn’t relaxed: eyebrows scrunched, the corners of his lips still pulled down. “Don’t look at me like that; I’m ok, truly”
Astrea stepped around Peter, staring at the city in front of them. A feeling of wistfulness filled her; she had done this before, sat upon this fire escape for that feeling of freedom. The view of the city always took her breath away. A soft rustle and a warm body pressed against her side,
“You know you can always come up; Aunt May would love to have you.” Peter bumped his shoulder against Astreas. “I honestly believe she would rather have you there than me.”
Astrea whipped her head over. “Of course she would; I clean up after myself.” A smile broke over her features, dimples flashing, before a pinch of pain cut it short,
Peter chuckled, turning his back to the city; he faced the apartment, or more specifically her window. “Have you finished your calculus work yet? I saw your spreadsheet last week.”
Astrea groaned. “Please don’t remind me of that! I’ve got enough on my plate with the recital coming up.” Astrea's head hung back, staring at the sky. “I’ll finish it when I head back in.”
“Oh, of course you will.” Peter's eyes scanned the side of Astrea's face, flickering over details he had already memorized,
Astrea stood watching the city, feeling Peter's eye burn through her; he always had a way of making her feel like glass. “Don’t sass me, you got caught fighting with Flash again.” She threw him a glare. “And I took the fall because someone ran.”
Peter turned fully to her, expression full of part shame, part laughter. “Listen, I didn’t even know you were there, and Flash starts it every time.” Running his hand through his hair, it fell softly around his ears. “I didn’t want this to happen, though,” Peter's eyes lingering on the bruise on her face.
“It would have happened for any reason; you know how he gets sometimes. It was just one of those nights,” Astrea sighed. “I worry for Mama Pete; she won’t listen to me.”
“Rea, people will make their own decisions; we can’t do anything about it.” Peter reached for Astrea's hand, barely brushing her shoulder before she folded into him. “You gotta worry about yourself, Rea, were so close to getting out of here. Just hold on a little longer.”
Folded into Peter, Astrea felt peace, not the fragile kind, but the kind where you know nothing can change it. He was her rock, had been for many years, where she came to when she needed a place to break and be put back together; when the memories haunted every dark corner around her, she was safe here, just as the stars were safe in the sky, untouched by all.
Peter's hand combed through her hair, softly detangling knots made by her father. There were no words needed for this moment; the feeling of companionship and peace spoke enough for both of them. With a shift, Astrea detangled herself. Eyes rimmed red, she let Peter cup her cheek, fingers brushing under her eye.
“You are stronger than you know, Rea; soon you’ll be free, placed among the stars where you belong.” Peter rested his forehead against hers, sharing the same air and purpose. “and ill admire you every night, the most devoted astronomer to study the stars, if you’ll continue to have me.”
A moment passed; Astrea watched Peter, not judging, nor condemning, but admiring. A smile lifted her cheeks. “ I would not be a star without you, for every star needs her discoverer, and you shall always be mine.” Pushing upwards there lips slid together easily,
It wasn't the first time they had kissed; it wasn’t as chaste as a first time was, nor was it scalding with the flames of lust, but warm with the affection of two lovers finally reuniting. The sun chasing the moon and sharing a brief glance as they rose and sat every day, for it was worth it. These brief moments were worth the pain of staying, of knowing what was happening if it meant she could stay and love him.
For she did; she loved him as one loves the air they breathe. It was effortless, taking not even a thought for every fiber of her being to rewrite itself to include him, to think of him in the endless possibilities of the sky above, to see him in the sun shining through the darkness, and in the storms that raged only when you weren’t looking and were safe. For he was her sky, all-consuming and beautiful.
A flash of light crossed her eyes, and she turned to watch as the sun rose above the city line; the sky was mostly dark, but she knew day was coming, for the sun was still chasing his moon. “We need to head in, Pete”
Astrea unraveled herself from Peter's embrace. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” Pressing onto her toes, she pecked Peter's lips, a grin tugging at hers,
Placing one foot on the bars of the fire escape, she stood, then made the lunge back to her windowsill. Turning back, she smiled at Peter, “Aunt May is gonna kill you”
A panicked look flashed over his features. “I'll see you soon, Rea, be safe.” Then, in a flash, he was up the broken ladder as it shook under his weight,
Shutting and locking the window, Astrea pulled the curtain open fully, allowing the light to fill her room. Then, sitting at her desk, she picked up her calculus work, feeling a sense of refreshment; she was going to do this.
She was going to make it out of here even if it took everything she had; as long as she had her sky and sun, she could do it.