Insatiable [h.s]

43

Aurora Walker
October 28, 2005 - age 7

"They'll be here any minute." I could hear my mothers voice whisper behind the closed door.

I stood in the hallway staring at the white chipped door, my teddy bear clung tightly in my arms.

I hate when they talk with the door closed.

My parents don't really talk, they usually just scream at each other or throw things. So when they actually talk I know that something is going on.

"Get Aurora and put her in the car."

My eyes widened at my fathers words and I quickly turned to head back into my room. I know what putting me in the car means. It's the worst part of the month.

I quietly shut my door and jumped onto my bed. My mom had come in about thirty minutes ago and stripped the bed of my covers and pillow. She takes all of my clothes, which isn't a lot, from my dressers and from my closet and stuffs them somewhere in her and my fathers room. They take everything of mine out of my room, then shove me into the car and leave me there for a few hours.

Then after the time passes they get me out of the car and have me put my room back together as if nothing happened.

"Aurora." My mother called, her voice echoing down the hall.

I backed myself into the corner sitting on my small bed. My hands were shaking as I hugged my knees tightly to my chest, and ad I ducked my head down my short hair fell into my eyes from where I had it tucked behind my ears.

I heard the click of my bedroom door and the fast paced tapping of my moms heels against my hardwood floor.

"Aurora Brielle, you come when I'm calling you." My mother snatched me by the arm and yanked me from my bed.

I let out a cry of pain as her sharp nails bit into my skin. "Mom please, you're hurting me!"

"Maybe you'll listen next time." She sneered as she tugged me towards the door.

As we made it into the hallway my father emerged from their room holding out the keys to my mom as we passed. His eyes flicked down to me with an unwavering look of disapproval.

"Honestly Quinn, why do you continue to allow her to carry around that ridiculous goddamn bear." My father grumbled in reference to the teddy bear I was holding onto.

"Pick your battles, Ethan." My mother snapped in a mocking tone, "A stupid fucking stuffed animal isn't hurting you, is it?"

"Watch your mouth." My father warned as he followed us into the kitchen.

The grip my mom held on my arm tightened as my father spoke to her. I could feel tears starting to brim my eyes, the pain radiating up my arm into my shoulder as she jerked me through the house.

I stayed silent as my mom threw the garage door open, the car alarm chirping as she popped the trunk. She pulled me again to increase my pace before stopping in front of the open trunk.

"Get in." She muttered.

"Please..." I begged looking up to her, "Please don't make me."

The look on her face was never fleeting as she stared down to me. I can tell that I resemble her in a lot of ways and I'm sure I would more if she allowed me to grow my hair out, but even now I can see the resemblance.

It's not a bad thing, I think my mom is beautiful. I'd be lucky to even partially be as pretty as her when I'm grown. I have the same dark eyes as her same straight dark brown hair, but hopefully my face will look more like hers when I'm older.