Amelia remembered a distant time when her father, Ednard, was a man of immeasurable kindness, a presence that enveloped her with a love so deep it made the world feel safe, warm. The memory was vivid: golden mornings bathed in spring sunlight, the gentle aroma of fresh coffee spreading through the house like a veil of comfort. Ednard would take her in his arms, his warm smile, and she, small and fragile, would nestle in his lap, feeling his strong, firm muscles wrap around her with a protection that seemed unbreakable. Every touch from him was a seal of safety, as if nothing could harm her while she was in his embrace.

That feeling of refuge, of protection, of being loved unconditionally, was an anchor that still floated in her mind, like an old, untouched painting. But now, like a dry leaf in the wind, it was beginning to crumble. The sound of shattering glass seemed to echo in her mind, the sharp crack reverberating in her chest, speeding up her heartbeat.

Now, she was there, fallen on the floor. The blood dripping from her hand, cut by a shard of glass, felt insignificant compared to what her spirit was enduring. The physical pain, though sharp and burning, paled in comparison to the pain of loss, the disintegration of everything she knew. The palm of her hand burned, but her mind was distant, absorbed in the sharp sound of the shards scattering around her, fragments of what was once her life. Every movement she made to distance herself from those deadly pieces was a silent effort to avoid more pain, a struggle against the destruction coming from within. She crawled across the room, her hands filthy with dust and glass, while the weight of her memories mixed with the heavy atmosphere hanging in the air.

The image of Ednard, her father, remained etched in her mind. A Black man with deep, rich skin and firm muscles, broad shoulders, and an imposing posture, his face seemingly carved from patience. His smile, which once made the whole world feel safe, now faded, giving way to something much darker. His dark dreadlocks, which once stood with the nobility of strength, now fell disheveled over a stern face, and his gaze, once vast in its understanding, was now fixed, lifeless, like a flame extinguished by the cold water of despair. He walked through the house with heavy steps, almost rhythmic in their melancholy, as if the weight of the anger he carried was too much for the ground beneath his feet.

The room was charged with suffocating tension. The heat of the morning, ironic, mixed with the smell of broken wood, scratched cement, and the light streaming through the windows only amplified the cruelty of the moment. Every ray of sunlight seemed to hurt Amelia’s vision, illuminating what were once cozy corners, now unrecognizable, torn apart by pain. The shadows on the walls danced in a macabre ballet, mocking the fragility of that moment, of how everything she knew had shattered. The air was heavy, and the room, which should have been a refuge, felt more like a cell with no escape.

The violence, which once seemed distant, now surrounded her like a thick cloud, a fog of terror that seeped into every part of her life. At first, she tried to distance herself, ignoring the changes that time and pressure imposed on her father, on her home. But she could no longer pretend that nothing was happening.

Ednard’s anger, once just a controlled fire, had transformed into a fierce storm, and his eyes, those eyes that once seemed to see into her soul, were now empty, fixed on her with an intensity that burned the air between them. Every outburst of his fury swept away peace like a leaf in the wind, destroying everything in its path. Ednard’s gaze was no longer that of a father. It was the gaze of a man searching for someone to blame, and Amelia found herself trapped in that condemning stare.

Ednard’s transformation was terrifying. He, the man of calm soul and easy smile, was now completely immersed in his own shadows. He had become selfish and intolerant, unable to see anything beyond his own failures and frustrations. His eyes, once so understanding, were now like embers that saw nothing but the guilt he attributed to the world and those around him. His attitude was unbearable, as if every word were a sentence of condemnation that gave her no chance to defend herself. The man she had known, so peaceful and reliable, had turned into something unrecognizable, a figure of faceless fury, a broken being.

She looked at him one last time. Ednard’s body stood erect, his broad shoulders like pillars of a strength that now seemed distorted. His face, marked by tension, was empty, as if he were no longer the man she had loved. The smell of sweat and anger mixed with the air, making it thick and suffocating, while his gaze, as relentless as a rock, pierced through her. There was no more understanding, only condemnation. The man who had held her in his arms, offering her protection, had disappeared. What remained was a dark, empty space where a father once stood. And in that void, she felt small, insignificant, as if the love that once existed there had been consumed by the darkness now dominating that home.