Playing with Fire

e p i s o d e | t w e l v e

I guess he had been drinking again.

I cowered in the corner with my hands over my ears. It had started off with once every so often. And then it became once a month. Once a week. Once a day. There would be a long day at work. There would be traffic. There would be something that would tick him off, and he'd have to drink the stress away. And then, he'd come home, and there would be commotion. A lot of commotion.

He took me to the bar once, just to show me around. I met people. They jokingly said that they'd give me a sip if I ever stopped by. I never did. I never wanted to be like him.

I never wanted to hurt my mother.

I recall hiding in the closet next to the kitchen. I heard a scream. And then the front door opened, and he was gone. When I finally opened the closet to see why it was so silent, I saw my mother on the floor.

He'd killed her.

I quickly sit up and press a hand against my warm forehead. Shit. I haven't had that dream in a long time ... why is it back? I hurriedly jump out of my bed and glance at the clock. Midnight. I'd gone to sleep so early. I guess this is Mother Nature's way of telling me that I ruined my sleep schedule. She gave me a nightmare.

I check my phone, and realize that I have a missed call from a number that I don't recognize. Perhaps it's one of those girls whom I gave my number to during a random party. Well, I guess I could use company.

Out of curiosity, I call it back. I don't expect anyone to answer at this hour, but someone does, with a stiff, "Hello?"

"You called me before. Who is this?" I ask.

There's a moment of silence before the voice answers, "Oh. It's me. Sawyer."

"Oh." Well, this is awkward. I hadn't expected the number to be hers. In fact, I'd deleted her number a long time ago, hoping that I'd never have another reason to contact her again. I guess she kept mine.

"I just wanted to see if you wanted to meet up, like old times," she says. "But you didn't answer, so I assumed you were asleep."

"I was." Another awkward pause. "Anyway, if that's all –"

"How are you?"

The question surprises me, and I don't answer for a while. "Uh – fine," I respond, though the answer ends up sounding more like a question. "Why do you ask?"

"Just to gage your reaction." There's twinge of amusement in her voice. "Of course, you sounded surprise. That was all I needed to hear."

So, she still likes messing with me. She adds, "So, you really don't want to meet up again, huh? That's funny. A couple of years ago, you would have jumped at the opportunity."