Charlene came home mid-afternoon.
She had a bruise on her left cheek.
Told us she fell down the stairs.
But I'm not so sure.
Mum got some frozen peas to put on the bruise.
Dad didn't say much.
I asked her if it was him, and she shouted at me for accusing him of such a thing.
I told her I was sorry, even though I wasn't.
Then Mum made pizza for dinner.
And we had the peas that were on Charlene's face.
Mum thought that was funny.
Dad didn't join us for dinner.
I asked him why.
He said he wasn't hungry.
Charlene complained that she still has to sit at the table when she's not hungry.
But that just made Dad angry.
He shouted.
Mum shouted at him to stop shouting.
Charlene shouted that it wasn't fair.
And I cried.
I don't usually cry in front of my family.
I want them to think I'm okay.
But I cried.
And Mum hugged me.
And sighed at Dad.
Charlene didn't say much, but she stayed at the table.
Dad sat down at the table, and said he was sorry.
Mum said she was sorry.
Mum and Dad told Charlene to say sorry.
Charlene said sorry.
We ate pizza and tried to make conversation.
Mum and Dad talked about work.
Charlene didn't say much.
I didn't say much.
YOU ARE READING
Charlene (on hold)
Short Story"She goes out a lot. Although I never know when she's at home anyway, she rarely comes out of her room, and the door is always locked. Dad threatens to remove the lock nearly every week, but I know he never will." A short story (or long poem dependi...
