Listen Before You Speak

Chapter 21

My eyes had to be lying to me. There was no way on earth that this could be true. The blood must be fake. Somehow he knew I was coming home, so he decided to pull a prank on me. One that would be so traumatic that I would never in my life open my mouth to speak again.

That must be it. That was the only thing that could possibly make any logical sense. There was no way that this could be real. And still I could not help myself. Everything looked and felt and smelled way too real. From the iron I could smell in the blood, to the alcohol lacing the room.

"No!!!" I screamed breaking the silence, not knowing what else to do. Only knowing that I could not keep myself silent any longer.

"You!" he yelled as he came at me, and I knew that from that moment on everything just might change. I would be in a puddle of blood, dead, being dragged outside to become a bed for the new rose bushes that would be here by tomorrow. The only thing to mark my final resting place.

"No!!!" I screamed again and tried to side-step him, but the slippery red substance underneath my feet didn't work well with my new shoes that was way to smooth at the bottom.

I fell.

Hard.

"Help! Mom! Help!" I screamed at the top of my lungs as my father slipped on the same blood I slipped on, which left him falling out of the front door.

Taking advantage of his moment of weakness I scrambled to my feet and dashed up the stairs – two at a time, still slipping slightly from the blood under my shoes. Every so often I touched the wallpaper, staining it with blood that might never be able to be washed off, but I didn't care. It was time that she knew the truth. It was time it all came out. I cannot live with this secret any longer!

"Mom!" I yelled as I came to the top of the stairs, but the only answer came from behind me.

"Come here you little shit! Look at what you've done! This is all your fault!" my father screamed up the stairs. The words that I fear the most. It was my fault...

"No!" I screamed back, not once turning toward him, but rather dashing towards my mother's room, hoping that he would not follow, but also wondering why my mother hadn't come out of her room from all the commotion.

"Elijah!" my father's voice boomed against the walls once more just before I entered my mother's room, shut the door and locked it.

"Mom," I said as a sob ripped through my entire body. I must have been crying all along and not even realized it.

"Mommy... Help..." I cried as I turned around to find her, but she wasn't in bed, sleeping like I thought she would be. She was...

"Mommy... Why are you crying?" Like a little boy I walked around the bed to the other side where she was sitting in the corner on the ground, crying in her hands.

She looked up at me, but she didn't answer. Not even a sob escaped her lips. She was silent. Listening but not speaking.

"Mom? Please... We need to get out of here..." I cried, not sure what I needed to do. I could feel my arms hanging limb beside me. They felt out of place completely.

"It was you..." she muttered, looking down at the ground.

"What?" I was confused.

"You did this... This is your fault..." she muttered as she pulled her legs up to her chest, leaning her head on her knees, not once looking at me.

"What? Listen mom... Dad... He murdered..."

"NO!" she screamed. She was on her feet, facing me, looking me directly in the eyes. Her eyes flaming with murder and mayhem. "You! You did all of this! This is your fault! You brought this into this house!"