Gone

Gone

            I stared into Kevin’s glimmering, amber eyes. Their radiance filled my soul with the warmth of a million suns. His laugh had a magical quality, blowing away my many worries and fears. I embraced him with crushing force. My insides felt like they were being stuffed with all the joy any person could ever need. I didn’t want to let him go. I never wanted to let him go.

            He faded away, and with him went my happiness. Come back... Please... I was now back in the realm of reality. I lay in my bed, heavy and immobile. I thought about opening my eyes, but what was the point? All I would see was a world which I no longer wanted to be a part of.  A world without Kevin.

            Kevin was 13, and his brother Travis was 17. My wife and I thought they were old enough to be home alone for a weekend, so, we decided to plan a getaway. The Friday we left, Kevin had a stomach ache. Travis suggested “Maybe you shouldn’t go.” To which, Kevin quickly replied “No I’m fine! Just go and have fun.” So we left. We were having a wonderful time, until Sunday. On Sunday we got a phone call, “Dad, I’m really sick.” His voice! The agony in his voice! I felt like I had just taken ten kicks to the stomach. We hurriedly packed and drove home as quickly as possible. By the time we got there, most of his pain had subsided. I decided to make him a bath, he got in and relaxed a bit. Relieved, I left him to himself for a few minutes. The next time I checked on him…

            Appendicitis… I thought through the word a thousand times. Appendicitis… Nobody dies of appendicitis. Not now, with all these new technologies and surgeries. Thinking about it made me nauseous. I failed him. He NEEDED me. And I was gone. Now I need him. And he’s gone. He’s gone...

            I opened my eyes, and regretted it immediately. The light made my suffering much more real. I couldn’t hide behind the veil of darkness. Everything was so cloudy. I couldn’t focus on anything but the gray ceiling. I felt like I was at the bottom of the ocean, with millions of tons of pressure on top of me, my body seconds from caving in. I couldn’t cry anymore, but the pain was as strong as ever. The excruciating pain. Should I get out of bed? Or should I just lay here like I have for the past month? What was my motivation for getting up? What was my motivation for doing anything? I came to a conclusion. I didn’t want to live anymore. The torture needed to end. That was my motivation to move. I was going to get up, drive to the train tracks, and end it. End the never-ending nightmare.

            I looked over at my wife. I would have said goodbye, but somehow I knew that she was having a dream about Kevin. Waking her from a dream like this would be like removing her from paradise and welcoming her to the gates of hell. So I got dressed as silently as possible. I expected to feel some sadness or guilt for leaving her, but I didn’t. I didn’t feel anything. I walked through the hallway and into Kevin’s room. I collapsed face down on his bed. I could faintly smell him on his pillow, bringing back countless memories of hugging and cuddling with him as a child. Throughout his life, he had always smelled like the fresh air after spring rainfall. I took one deep breath in, and slowly arose off of his bed. “I’ll be with you soon” I muttered in a shaky voice that sounded nothing like me. I trudged to the car, got in, and turned on the ignition. I was ready.

The few short minutes that it took me to drive to the tracks felt like an eternity. I thought about my childhood. My parents. My education. My job.  And, of course, of Kevin. I wanted so badly to be with him. To join him. When I got to the tracks, I put the car in park. To the left, I saw the oncoming locomotive. I’m coming home Kevin! Suddenly, an image appeared in my head. I saw myself walking in the front door yelling “I’m home!” Then, I heard little footsteps and a tiny boy yell “Daddy!” I got on one knee, and absorbed the impact of Kevin running into me and hugging me. A smile appeared on my face. The first smile I’d had since Kevin died. Suddenly, I heard another voice, sounding slightly older. “Daddy!” I looked up from Kevin’s embrace and saw Travis sprinting at me full speed, a smile so big it nearly covered his whole face. Travis… Travis! I put the car in drive, and hit the accelerator.

From Green to Gray

Samantha Buhr

There was nowhere left in the world for him. The one spot of green had finally been destroyed and converted into gray, just like everything else had.

The animal trod it’s heavy hooves on the dead grass, stepping over cigarette butts and crumpled beer cans. An electric fence separated him from the smoke-breathing monsters that spewed black into the air. The air was dense with thick smoke, there was no more blue in the sky. There were no more clean, clear ponds to take baths in. No more luscious grass or trees to snack on. No more animal friends to play around with. There was no more hope, really. The human population had deprived the Earth of it’s natural resources, instead they created man-made structures that skimmed the puke-colored clouds. Was that what they would call a home?

Suddenly, there was movement. The animal’s leathered ears pricked with angst, straining to hear for the sound of a nearby enemy. The animal’s wide eyes twitched about. A human, clad in a gray suit with a long, lined face, walked in robotic movement along the fence. The animal observed, curious and scared, as the strange man continued to step down the cracked concrete path. A human! The animal had never seen one so close before.

He followed a couple paces behind, apprehensive. The human walked, eyes blank, face expressionless, not realizing that with every robotic step he took, the last green that there was on their desolate Earth shriveled and died. The concrete monsters were throwing up black, charred smoke, the air was dense with pollution. The man continued with a blank face as each step he took exterminated another green patch, replacing the green with the gray. The animal was horrified. Did the strange, robotic man not realize what he was doing? The animal wanted to stop the human from taking another step, but what could he do? Against the human, he was nothing.

The animal desperately wanted the human to stop walking. He had never been so close to a human before, he had only heard stories of what they were capable of. Their sorcery was powerful, and very malignant to everything green on their planet.

The animal’s soft fur suddenly stood on end. A different type of smoke filled his nose with an unpleasant, musky smell. He swiveled his long, slim head back and forth to find the source of the unpleasant smell. The human had something in his mouth. The animal tried to peer closer to understand what it was. The end of the stick was lit up, as if on fire, and swirls of smoke were emitting from the human’s mouth. The animal watched the smoke twist and turn, becoming distorted, as it made it’s way up into the air, nearing towards a lone green leaf on a dying tree. The animal’s heart raced faster, he had to protect the green from the gray. He started to sprint towards the malignant smoke, bounding over dead branches and dry, crushed grass. All he wanted to do was to save that green leaf, the last standing green in his dying home. Just as he reached the tree, the smoke touched the leaf. It engulfed the edges, slowly stopping oxygen flow from coursing throughout the leaf’s veins. The leaf started to shrivel up, folding and furling, as if in agony. The green was disappearing. The animal’s golden-brown eyes widened in horror as the leaf started to crumble into ashes from the deadly smoke. It wound around the leaf, through the leaf. Screams of terror filled the animal’s ears. It could hear the leaf dying, being eaten away by the gray. The animal’s front legs gave away. It sank to the ground as the last of the leaf was eaten away by the smoke. It’s pitiful remains floated down towards the cracked, dead ground to join the others who had faced the same horrible fate.

The animal was furious. Who did this robotic man think he was? Did he not see that he was destroying everything the animal had once loved and lived in? He pounded his hooves aggressively, hoping to grab the man’s attention. He wanted the man to feel fear, to experience loss, to witness his whole world succumb to the gray. There was gray everywhere.

The robotic man had stopped, but just in order to put out the fire that was at the end of the smoke monster. His black heel dug into the monster, crushing it, putting an end to the deadly smoke.

Endless gray. As far as the eye could see, mankind had destroyed everything and anything that once thrived under the blazing sun, that once flourished and lived in a world full of color. The animal remembers that horrible day. The day when everything started to loose the life within, started to crumble and die and lose the once so vibrant colors that had brightened every single day. Then, one day, a violent-looking fog rolled over the grass-covered Earth, and now everything and anything had lost those once so vibrant colors and everything was gray.

The animal’s bony legs came to a standstill. He watched the destructive, emotionless robotic man walk towards a concrete monster that was spewing out black, creating more gray in a world already dead.  

His body quivered. It was very cold, there was no more sun. It’s beautiful rays could no more penetrate the black haze. His hoof knocked over a broken wine bottle.

No shelter, no home. No green, no sun, no blue. Just gray, black, and emotionless-faced humans with sticks that light on fire and create malignant smoke that kill off the once-thriving plant life of the animal’s home.

It was the humans that made everything gray. Endless gray. Endless emotionless-faced humans with gray suits and long, lined faces. It was the humans that had once made everything so perfect, so green, turn to gray.

Staring Sullenly at the Mirror

Staring Sullenly at the Mirror

Sweat poured out of my face as the thick foam headgear pushed into my face. I bounced on the balls of my feet. I jumped and rotated, spinning in the air once and administering a snappy kick to my opponent’s head. He grunted, taking the full force of the kick through his block. Seeing an opening through his hands, I sprung forwards, spinning and slamming him with a kick to the stomach.

“Break! Two points to the United States for a spinning body kick!” the referee exclaimed. I watched the red digital letters on the electronic scoreboard increment from three to five points while the blue letters stayed at four.  Cheers erupted from one side of the hall. Waves of red, blue, and white formed a tapestry under the five colorful interlocking rings hanging overhead. 

I took a deep breath. My opponent bent over but looked at me intently, sullenly gazing while tilting his head slowly to the left, narrowing his eyes and grinning slightly. I fought my instinct to duck my head out of the crosshairs of his stare. The little section of his face that I could see beyond his headgear was familiar and brought me back to the last time we fought. This was the same Korean trailblazer that had surprised the world when he kicked his way within two points of robbing me of my world championship title in 2010.  He had clawed his way up from trailing by six points when he did a spinning roundhouse kick to my head. 

I blinked and resumed my bouncing as the referee bellowed, “And face each other! And fight!”

Now, with one minute left in the third and final round, he had plenty of time to erase my one-point lead. Only this morning, a young British woman had caused a massive upset by beating the two-time world champion from China with a spinning kick in the last thirty seconds of the match. I stared fiercely back at him.

I kept bouncing on the balls of my feet, with my arms and hands in front of my rib cage and head. The red digital letters on the clock took forever to tick down.  Fifty five, fifty-four, fifty three. As my opponent glided in, I began. Forty-five, forty-four. In a flash, I threw a spinning kick towards his head.  As I spun, he came in with a round kick while I was in mid-air.  A dull thud accompanied a hit to my lower back.  My foot collided with his temple.

“Break! Penalty!” blasted the referee. My stomach plummeted. Did I break any rules? Why did I get a penalty? A kick to the head is perfectly legal! I wanted to protest but couldn’t get anything out. The referee’s voice blasted over my silent arguing.

“Advancing to the semifinal will be the United States!” While the vacuum of fear and consternation that had occupied my insides quickly morphed into steady breathing, and my jaw that had been slightly ajar in protest became a pacified grin, I couldn’t figure out why my competitor got a penalty.  He had kicked me in my back. Had it been that? I fell forwards. Everything around me faded to a light grey.

I blinked a couple of times. Light and soft voices began to intensify in volume.  Muffled noises turned into speech. The quiet conversations drifted over lazily, like bubbles moving to the top of a liquid. I began to focus in on the faces of the people leaning over me and looking at me.

“Yo, he’s fine! He’s fine! He’s coming to!” I heard an unfamiliar voice.

I let my head turn to the side and detachedly observed two women in white clothes.  One had a stethoscope around her neck and was filling out something on a clipboard. The other was punching an instant ice pack vigorously.

“Hey Dillon! Are you okay?” My teammates were all huddling around me.

I opened my mouth but a sharp pain in my lower back stopped any words from coming out.  My legs felt powerless as I relaxed and contracted the muscles.

“Way to take it like a champ, dude. That was super brutal,” Jeff, my best friend on the team, beamed.  He was a little shorter than me, but reminded me of a spider with the ratio of his leg length to his torso height. Still glowing from his victory at his semifinal, this rookie knew that his string of victories had rocked the taekwondo world.  I tried to sit up, but the abdominal strength I had proved unequal to the pain in my back.  Jeff extended a hand to pull me up.  Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see my head coach whispering to the woman with a stethoscope. She took out her cell phone.

My teammates turned to watch the start of the next match. I joined their observation, examining the movements of the fighter from Germany as he sparred with the gold medalist from the 2008 Beijing Olympics, a versatile Korean veteran.  Agile, on the balls of their toes, they stepped in and back, shuffling around each other waiting to pounce on an opening.  If I had not been injured, I would have fought the winner of this round in our semifinal fight.  Since I could barely move, Jeff would be the one facing off against the winner.  I lifted my head to take a clearer look.  After arcing his leg in the air, Korea delivered a devastating blow to Germany. 

On the brackets, I was lined up to come in on a half hour.  Fifty yards away, two men carrying a stretcher were coming in my direction.  All eyes were on me.  I took a glance at Jeff. With my core shaking slightly, I sat up slowly, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. The red digital letters on the clock had reset. 6:00 minutes on the clock. Was it long enough it win? Or did it allow me just enough time to throw a kidney kick? I glanced around at the team. No one was looking at Korea. Every eye on the Olympic stadium was waiting for my next move. I grinned a little.

“Let me fight, Jeff,” I shouted to him.

A stunned silence ensued.

“I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m very sure,” I said as I clambered to my feet. No one but me knew what was going to come next. I looked at Jeff as meaningfully as I could. “You might have to fight the final round for me, though.”

As the announcer introduced the two fighters for the next match, I stepped into the ring.  I bent over but looked at my opponent intently, sullenly gazing while tilting my head slowly to the left, narrowing my eyes and grinning slightly.

Unjust

Unjust

I hear the trigger click into place. He is ready, his stance firm, barrel pointed. Towards me. It’s real; it’s happening…he’s going to shoot. I close my eyes and imagine a vivid scene. A scene that brought me here.

-------------------

It was a particularly fine afternoon, and I was strolling down the streets when I heard a scream. A child’s scream? A woman’s scream? I wasn’t sure. Everyone was going about their day; it wasn’t uncommon to hear gunshots and screaming in Chicago, but in broad daylight? That was strange. If it happened--when it happened-- shootings were normally a night thing. So something compelled me to walk towards the gunshot, against the current. I am not walking away from it like I usually do; what’s wrong with me?

I turn into the alley and see a woman holding a child. There’s red everywhere. The sight of the little boy’s blood makes me nauseous. The warning signals in my brain go off when I take a step towards them. I want to turn around and run back the way I came from. This is not a situation where I can panic at the sight of blood… I push my childhood thoughts aside for now, but I am daunted to come any closer; there is an aura about this woman that I am afraid to find out. She turns towards me with tear streaked cheeks and pleads for help. I still don’t take any steps nearer.

-------------------

It’s her eyes. It glints at me as if she’s telling me I deserve it.

Oh but I did. I just admitted to murdering a child that I’ve never seen or met in my life, and for no good reason either. I feel sick to my stomach. I take a breath. It’s the only thing I can do right now.

Sarah; she’s terrified. My eyes keep finding her horror-stricken face. It’s like she’s frozen there, unable to do anything, incapable of any words or actions. Then suddenly shrieks, clutching at the men, yelling at them to let go. She’s trying to get to me. I tell her to back off, but it’s only in my head. I’m not sure, but I don’t think she can read minds. Because if she could she would have stopped screaming by now.

If only she would stop. It really does take away from my concentration. My last moments alive.

Sarah. I followed her in. Into this big mess that I had nothing- well almost nothing- to do with. I needed to help her.

-------------------

The big barrel I’m behind smells horrendous. I don’t know what’s inside, but it’s distracting me from the task at hand. Trying to ignore the terrible shaking of my body, I inch my way towards Sarah and those loathsome buff men she’s with when something crunches beneath my feet. All heads turn toward me while I look down at the crumpled leaf in horror, thinking, Why?!

One of the men checks me over to see if I carry any weapons. Of course I don’t. Why would a civilian carry around weapons on a stroll? I mean, really. These guys must have been through a lot.

Then I see how bad the matter at hand really was. Sarah was on her knees, sobbing. No amount of pleading would do any good. These guys saw no mercy in anything, it was clear the moment you saw them. She was going to die.

No. I won’t let that happen.

Then a woman walks out from behind the men. She’s so familiar…

I knew I should have helped her in that alley. It all comes back to this now. I should have seen this coming; I groan as I let my stupidity hit me, hard. I’m sorry Sarah.

They didn’t really care who died. A life for a life. It was that simple to them.

-------------------

She was wrongly accused. Sarah. I knew it, she knew it, even those tough guys knew it. I just don’t get it. They knew that she wasn’t the one who killed the boy. Why would she have stayed otherwise?

That woman’s accusations aren’t correct. But why was Sarah found guilty? Right, because I can’t do anything about it. In fact, no one can. Not with that woman standing there.

All I could think was… no. This is not right. I have to do something-fast!

“It was me,” I blurt out. “I did it.”

Sarah stands there aghast while I walk up to them and say defiantly, “I killed the boy. Not Sarah. That’s what you want right?”

The bulky guy in the front glances over like I’m a piece of dirt. I can’t help but flinch when he takes a step towards me.

“Enough,” says one of them. I suppose he’s the head. He looks over at the man with the gun and jerks his head towards me. Oh no. What did I do?

I can see--I can feel her agony. It’s reaching all the way to my bones. Sarah, I’ll always be there for you.

-------------------

I shift my head towards the restrained Sarah grabbing at the air in front of her. She is screaming my name. Peter…Peter… she seems so distant to me, but rings in my ears again and again. I’m going to take that with me to my grave. If I have a grave, that is.

No no. Stop it. Keep your mind off of those thoughts. You’re helping Sarah. You’re saving Sarah. You love her, don’t you?

I will gladly die for you if that’s what I have to do.

How lovely. If only… if only……

I know it’s best for her but why is it so hard for me? I want to run away, be able to caress her, to look into her eyes… oh her dreamy eyes… but so bright and sparkling. So unlike those evil glinting eyes of that… woman. No, not like that at all. It’s the most beautiful thing I noticed about her when we first met. Oh, I never got a good chance to say goodbye, tell her I love her. I guess she’ll never really know. I glance towards Sarah helplessly as the bullet makes its way toward my heart... I just hope she'll be okay without me.

No, I just hope she’ll be okay.

-------------------

Where is the Faith?

Adrian takes a step out of the light of the last street lamp encasing himself into the darkness. Before he steps into the bar, he looks up to take in the scene that lay before him. Rotten wood cracking at the seams, plagued by the water damage of the storms that rolled through this area, the painted letters chipping off the red paint, he could barely make out the Bar’s name. Hearing the boisterous laughter and drunken calls, he knew his older brother resides in this pitiful pit. The door swings open, the dim lights make the scene more dire. Dante, decked in his black jacket, black glasses covering his eyes with a toothpick in his mouth that was cocked into a sly smirk, leans down toward the pool table. Looking up over his glasses he spots Adrian, awkwardly moving away from the drunken girl that was advancing toward him.

“Sorry boys, can’t take your money today. Looks like my little brother came to visit.” The words fell out of his mouth as he threw the pool cue down on the torn green felt and strolls toward his brother.

“Dad finally let you come down to play with the big boys, huh Adrian?” Dante sneers out, the coy smile pulling at his lips once again. Adrian shakes his head at his brother, feeling that maybe this meeting wouldn’t end well.

“No, Dante. I came down on my own, for I much desire to speak with you.” Looking around, he sees the others slowly begin to turn to eavesdrop on their conversation. “Alone, for that matter.” Dante scoffs at Adrian’s heaven like demnoior.

“Whatever you say little brother.” Dante brushes past Adrian, walking through the back doors and into the alleyway that connects to the bar. Dante leans against the wall, his face covered in the shadows, only his eyes were visible. The color different from the ones Adrian had grown up with, no longer the bright golden color but now a dark color that matches who he has become. Dante was once so hopeful, always trying to help the mundanes, always trying to do the right thing, being the Angel that Adrian strived to be. Then Dante fell to Earth, for falling in love with a mundane girl that was destine to die on her twenty first birthday. Dante tried to save her, but when Father found out, he stripped Dante of his wings and he was exile to live out eternity on Earth. Everything about him turned dark, he no longer saw the light in the world, only the suffering that plague it. Dante never understood how the mundanes could still believe in his Father after all the pain that he caused them. Adrian’s mission today was to try to get his old brother to return to being his hopeful self, by showing Dante that the light still exists in the world. “Why have you come down to Earth, little brother. Come to feed false hope that Father wants me back to be his good little soldier?” Dante question, raising his eyes to watch his brother. Even down on Earth, the light always seemed to find Adrian.

“No, I came here on my own brother. Father has no idea that I came to find you.” Dante’s smile creeps back to his face. His brother was rebelling against Father.

“You are turning into a good candidate for a fallen angel brother. Disobeying Father could cost you heavily. You could lose your title, and your powers. You could be the next fallen angel to join me here.”

“No I wouldn’t be the next fallen angel. For all I am here to do is to try to convince you that there is still light in this world. That the mundanes keep their faith for the reason that they still believe in our Father.” Dante scoffs at his brother’s incompetence.

“They keep the faith for there is nothing else to have faith in. They have this irrational idea that if they pray, it will be heard, and their loved ones will be saved. They latch onto the belief that they are allowed into heaven when they do pass on. There is darkness everywhere, slowly it will become true to all mundanes. Good honest people die young, and that’s how they lose their faith.”  

“Not everyone is Liliya, Dante.” Dante eyes bolt up to meet his brothers, pushing himself off of the wall. Dante grabs his brother by the collar of his shirt slamming him into the wall.

“Don’t. Ever. Say. Her. Name.” Dante growls out, his eyes blazing with the fire that he hides desperately every day, trying to forget her. “She should have lived. She should have lived out her days and had the family she deserved.” Adrian grabs onto his brothers hands and rips them off of his shirt.

“Dante, it was written before she was born that she would die on her twenty first birthday. There was nothing you could have done to save her.” Dante’s curls his fist  and slams it into his brother’s jaw.

“I could have healed her! I could have saved her!” He roars out, as Adrian holds onto his jaw, his eyes watching the turmoil roll off of his brother in waves.

“Why did she even catch your eye brother. She was normal, just a mundane.”

“Lili saw the world as I do now. She knew she was going to die, and even after all of the prayers to him, they remained unanswered. Her parents, her parents were hopeless in seeing their daughter’s fate. They saw it as a blessing, that she would no longer be in pain. Lili saw it as a punishment. Even going to church her whole life, praying for every meal, praying for her brother’s to return home, praying for everything. She saw the truth. That our Father does nothing to ease the pain of the suffering. She saw that good, honest people die young even when they devoted their lives to Him.” Dante turns his back on his brother, his fist still curled at his sides, his shoulders begin to shake. Adrian knew that he was crying. Liliya meant to world to him, and losing her was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Dante, it was the way that it was written and so it must be done. You know this. You can’t save everyone, even then there is still hope in their eyes. That when they do die they will be brought up to Heaven’s gate and begin their second lives.” Adrian placed his hand on his brother shoulder, as a sign of comfort, but all Dante felt was the overbearing weight of his Father. His father told him the same thing when he learned of Lili’s destiny.

“They deserved to live brother. There is no hope left in my heart, it died when she was buried six feet under. I see the truth, while you remain blinded by what our Father has told you. Go back to Heaven, look down at the World. Hear the cries of agony that fill the towns that are being terrorized, hear the screams of children being ripped from their dead parents. Listen to the world, then come back to me, and tell me that they deserved their pain. Tell me why they still hold onto to their faith and hope when everyone they love is slowly dying in front of them. Then come back and tell me, what you think, not the lies that were forced fed to you.” Dante jerks open the door, steps inside, leaving his brother standing alone in the alleyway. His body covered in the battle between light and dark, his brother’s truth and his father’s truth. With a blink, he vanishes.

I Don't Want You To

I Don’t Want You To

“Stop it, mom! Why do you have to ruin every night like this?” Cole whined as his fists curled up tightly by his sides and his brows furrowed. I know my brother is trying to help me, but it’s my job to protect him, not the other way around. He caught the look in my eye, and stormed off to his bedroom. My mother, Kathy, whom I call by her first name ever since she bluntly explained that she wished I was never born, glared at me with a cruel look in her eyes. Her long bangs were falling over her face, the way she lets them when she is too distracted by her own mind and the bottle in her hand to bother fixing them.

“Why are you still here?!” she yelled, squinting her eyes.

The dull orange hue from the kitchen lights glinted off of her brown hair. I hate those lights, they make me sick. Looking at them reminds me of all the times I have stood here before, just waiting to see what happens.

Just last night, I was cleaning up the shattered glass on the kitchen floor, and scrubbing the wine off of the wood. I look down at my fingers and notice the cuts on the tips of my fingers from the broken glass are still there.

“Well?!” Kathy exclaims again, flailing her hands in the air like she was trying to exaggerate her point. It’s the same thing every time.

Worthless. Ungrateful. Worst daughter ever. The words fill my head once again as I reach for the handle on the door. The cold wind of the night consumes my skin as the door swings open. Feeling a presence right behind me, I swiftly spin around, only to be abruptly interrupted by a fist. The force sends me stumbling outside, and the door aggressively slams shut behind me.

Finding my way around with my hands, I feel the rough texture of the brick ledge next to the lawn and sit down. My knees cracked as I brought them to my chest, and put my head in my hands. As the salty tears trickled down my cheeks, the scratches on my fingers began to sting...

After I picked up the pieces from the glass that Kathy dropped onto the floor, I threw them away and continued to wipe up the wine that was dripping down the cabinets. Her light snoring was breaking the silence until I heard Cole’s muffled sobs getting louder as he approached the hallway. I stood up quickly and threw the wet towels into the trash, and tried to look as nonchalant as possible. My brother slowly walked around the corner, his big blue eyes looking at me through his shaggy nut brown hair. His ragged old teddy bear dragged along the floor next to his feet. He pulled it up his face and hugged it, his tears soaking the bear’s ears.

“When is mom coming to say goodnight?” he whispered.

“Soon, let me put you back to bed.”

It was Cole’s birthday, he had turned ten years old earlier that day. He seemed quite immature compared to the rest of the ten year olds that he was friends with, but sometimes he surprised me.  After I walked him to his room, I found Kathy on the couch. She was passed out, her head back against the cushions and her mouth hanging open. There was a wine glass on the table, it was half full, but the rest of the bottle was empty. I woke her up to say goodnight to Cole, walked her back to her room, and she was asleep again in seconds. I already knew she wouldn’t remember this in the morning.

...The scratches on my fingers burning again, I lifted my head up. Why does mom do this? It isn’t fair. I hear Cole saying this in the back of my mind every night since he asked me. I quiver at the idea that one day he will have to face this for what it is. I won’t always be around to protect him from it.

I can feel my heartbeat in my face as it begins to swell up. It’s better if he doesn’t get involved, until he has to. I can take care of myself, with just enough energy left to take care of him.

I hear the front door open with a squeak, and see a small figure rush towards me. I’m surprised to see who it is.

“Get back inside, Cole, if she finds you out here you’ll be in trouble.”

“Mom locked you out, so I came to let you back inside.” Tears welled up in my eyes again when I realized what he risked to help me. “I don’t want to keep watching this happen, it scares me.”

We walked back into the house, quietly, wondering if our mother was still awake. When I heard her footsteps, I rushed Cole to the hallway, “Go put yourself to bed and-

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Kathy screamed at me. “I see you trying to brainwash him to think I’m a bad person too, I’ve seen it happen before!”

“Dad never brainwashed me, Kathy.” I tried to stay as calm as possible, but before I knew it she began to lift her arm when I heard Cole yelling. I turned and saw him with the phone to his ear, holding the list of numbers our dad gave us before he left.

“My mom is scaring me, and I don’t want my sister to get-” Kathy ripped the phone out of his hands before he could say another word, and he ran straight into my arms. “I don’t want you to be afraid anymore” he whispered up to me. Before I would let Kathy see me cry, I grabbed Cole and ran down the street. Hoping the people on the other end of the phone call got some sort of message; we waited to get picked up while he held onto my jacket, squeezing his fists as hard as he could.

“I don’t want you to be afraid either.”