Dad was drinking to relieve the stress again.
Amber liquid sloshing like little waves against his glass.
Stumbling into the living room he tells Mom it’s time to go to the bar.
In the middle of the night they come crashing in the front door.
Tornados leaving destruction in their wake.
Too scared to sleep, I go into the kitchen relieved to no longer be alone.
Just a ten-year-old girl excited for her parents, like a puppy freed after a long day stuck in a kennel. Then I see it, Mom bandaging Dad’s hand.
Red droplets hitting the black and white checkerboard.
Looking as if a pawn had slaughtered a king.
Fear like ice crystalizes through my veins.
Mom turns to me as I gasp, silver lining the inside of my eyes.
Anger flashes across her eyes as her voice pierces the calm night air. I hang my
head, rushing back to bed, a rabbit running from a coyote. I drag my favorite
blanket behind me, its dirty yellow, blue and pink squares the only comfort I have
in this world. | TW
TERESA WHITESIDE WRITES FROM COFFEE CREEK CORRECTIONAL FACILITY.
