My mind drifted back to a day many years ago. Most of the days from that
time had been blocked out. Too painful for me to remember. The day my mind
settled on was the day we left. The day we were cast out on our own. I
sighed as i thought of it. The cold silver of the knife seemed to form the
perfect pool for my thoughts to gather. It seemed almost as if I could see
it all happening again.
I can't remember what had caused it, weither it was something we did, something our mother did, or just the fact that he was raging drunk, but I'll never forget the day that our father stormed into the house, stumbling and reeking of alcohol. He barged straight into the house, breaking everything in his path. I had cautiously peeked out of my bedroom to see one of the most gruesome sites ever. There was my father, using his full bulk to block my mother in a coner, and he was savagely beating her. One hand trapping her, the other pummeling her to submission.
I felt sickened watching it. I ran across the hall to my sisters room. My sister, the betrayer. My sister, the reason why I was remembering what had happened that night. But, I quickly went to her room, and told her to hide. I don't know what had come over me, I had always been very shy, submissive, but I couldn't bear to see anything happen to my sister. I then just sat there, hoping that our father would just pass us by. But he didn't. he never did pass us by. Instead he barged into the small bedroom and looked at me, sitting calmly on the edge of Magenta's bed.
"What the fuck are you doing here boy?!" He had spat out at me.
"What does it matter?" I had said camly. I have no clue what possessed me to say that. All I know is my father in all his drunkness was not looking for that response. He lept towards me with a roar, and I easily slipped away. But he quickly sprung up and swung at me. This time he didn't miss. The fist connected square into my jaw. I reeled back a few steps, all to aware of the wall that lay behind me. As he came after me, I drew upon a reserve I didn't know I had. As he swung at me, and missed, I felt my fist connect with him. I just kept swinging away, pummeling him. He had once again backed up, and onto the bed. It was then he noticed the bit of poofy red hair sticking out from behind the bed. He reached down and grabbed the hair, yanking Magenta out with it. I lost it at this point.
I lept forward onto him, prying him off of Magenta. I felt my hands close around his throat, and that was the last thing I could remember. From what Magenta had told me later, it seemed that I had gone into a state like Dr. Jekyll. A frenzied madman. When I woke up later, I found myself sprawled out on the floor, with our father next to me. The only difference was I was breathing he wasn't. I got up, and looked at Magenta. It was obvious that she had been crying. I went over to where she was, and sat down next to her. "Shh. Shhhh." I whispered, rubbing her back. She let out a small sob and curled up next to me.
"They're gone! We're on our own Riff." She said in between sobs. I sat there letting her cry, soothing her as much as possible. As she gently wept, I thought of what we could possibly do. I suddenly sprung up, away from Magenta, startling her.
"Pack up." I said, walking out of her room, and into mine. I quickly drudged out the old suitcase that sat in the back. I pulled out a few outfits, not much, and shoved them inside haphazardly. I carried it out into the hall, and looked into Magenta's room. She had her suitcase out, but seemed to be stuck on what to put in it. "Just stick anything into it." I said, and waited for her to just toss things into her suitcase. She emerged a few minutes later, suitcase in hand.
"Where are we going Riff?" She asked me. I couldn't help but feel sorry for my little sister. She looked so pitiful, so lost. I was the last thing that she had left. I walked out of the house, and looked back once, on what had been my life. We were orphans, children of the street. In charge of ourselves.
I can't remember what had caused it, weither it was something we did, something our mother did, or just the fact that he was raging drunk, but I'll never forget the day that our father stormed into the house, stumbling and reeking of alcohol. He barged straight into the house, breaking everything in his path. I had cautiously peeked out of my bedroom to see one of the most gruesome sites ever. There was my father, using his full bulk to block my mother in a coner, and he was savagely beating her. One hand trapping her, the other pummeling her to submission.
I felt sickened watching it. I ran across the hall to my sisters room. My sister, the betrayer. My sister, the reason why I was remembering what had happened that night. But, I quickly went to her room, and told her to hide. I don't know what had come over me, I had always been very shy, submissive, but I couldn't bear to see anything happen to my sister. I then just sat there, hoping that our father would just pass us by. But he didn't. he never did pass us by. Instead he barged into the small bedroom and looked at me, sitting calmly on the edge of Magenta's bed.
"What the fuck are you doing here boy?!" He had spat out at me.
"What does it matter?" I had said camly. I have no clue what possessed me to say that. All I know is my father in all his drunkness was not looking for that response. He lept towards me with a roar, and I easily slipped away. But he quickly sprung up and swung at me. This time he didn't miss. The fist connected square into my jaw. I reeled back a few steps, all to aware of the wall that lay behind me. As he came after me, I drew upon a reserve I didn't know I had. As he swung at me, and missed, I felt my fist connect with him. I just kept swinging away, pummeling him. He had once again backed up, and onto the bed. It was then he noticed the bit of poofy red hair sticking out from behind the bed. He reached down and grabbed the hair, yanking Magenta out with it. I lost it at this point.
I lept forward onto him, prying him off of Magenta. I felt my hands close around his throat, and that was the last thing I could remember. From what Magenta had told me later, it seemed that I had gone into a state like Dr. Jekyll. A frenzied madman. When I woke up later, I found myself sprawled out on the floor, with our father next to me. The only difference was I was breathing he wasn't. I got up, and looked at Magenta. It was obvious that she had been crying. I went over to where she was, and sat down next to her. "Shh. Shhhh." I whispered, rubbing her back. She let out a small sob and curled up next to me.
"They're gone! We're on our own Riff." She said in between sobs. I sat there letting her cry, soothing her as much as possible. As she gently wept, I thought of what we could possibly do. I suddenly sprung up, away from Magenta, startling her.
"Pack up." I said, walking out of her room, and into mine. I quickly drudged out the old suitcase that sat in the back. I pulled out a few outfits, not much, and shoved them inside haphazardly. I carried it out into the hall, and looked into Magenta's room. She had her suitcase out, but seemed to be stuck on what to put in it. "Just stick anything into it." I said, and waited for her to just toss things into her suitcase. She emerged a few minutes later, suitcase in hand.
"Where are we going Riff?" She asked me. I couldn't help but feel sorry for my little sister. She looked so pitiful, so lost. I was the last thing that she had left. I walked out of the house, and looked back once, on what had been my life. We were orphans, children of the street. In charge of ourselves.