Lex
“Getoffme, you son of a bitch.” Her words are razor blades between her teeth. “Stop it, please. Mortimer…goddammit, our child is in the next room!”
She doesn’t know I’m here.
She doesn’t know I’m in the closet, peeking through the cracked door. I came in here to play with my race cars. Mom’s closet is a little hideaway, created just for me. It’s filled with pretty things. Colorful dresses, sparkly shoes, and handbags made of gold. It’s quiet in here.
But not right now.
Dad came home from work late. Whenever he gets home late, he’s in a really bad mood. He yells at Mom and says mean words like “fuck” and “whore.” I usually hide in my room and pretend to be a sleeping lump under the covers, but I didn’t have time to make my escape before Mom’s bedroom door busted open and Dad was ripping his belt from his trousers.
He has her pinned to the bed.
She’s fighting and kicking. Clawing at him with her red fingernails.
I don’t know what to do.
My hand is clamped over my mouth to keep the shrieky sounds inside. If Dad knows I’m hiding in here, he’ll beat me with his belt or maybe even his fists. I know it’ll hurt. I hate being a wimp, and I want to protect my mom, but I’m scared.
“Stop it…stop!” Mom pulls his hair from the roots as he climbs on top of her, his back to me.
Dad lifts up and shoves his pants down his thighs until I’m staring at his naked butt. I squeeze my eyes closed and tighten the hand around my mouth. I don’t want to watch. I don’t want to—
“No!” Mom’s screams fade out, turning into tiny whimpers. She sounds smaller than me. Almost like she’s dying. “No, please…”
One eyeball wrenches open, the other too afraid to look. Part of me is curious, and the other part wants to hide, so I do both.
Dad ignores her cries. He just makes awful grunting sounds and wiggles his hips. It looks like he’s stabbing her with something, but only his body moves, his hands holding her down by the wrists as his hair sticks up in every direction.
Mom is quiet now. She just lies there, and I wonder if she really did die. The thought has my heart doing somersaults in my chest, and my lungs feel like they’re shrinking or bursting. I can’t tell which. My pulse thunders in my ears as I watch the mattress bounce up and down and listen to the squeaky sounds echoing through the room.
Dad keeps grunting. He moves faster and faster.
The bed squeaks louder.
Squeak, squeak, squeak—
The scene morphs into something else. My father dissolves, my mother’s image replaced by a different face. Shiny black hair and a come-hither smile. Bianca. She’s naked on the bed, hooking an index finger at me. “Come, Lex. I want to play with you.”
Techno music pounds. The closet morphs into a dark room. I glance down, and I’m not a little boy anymore.
I feel drunk, confused, out of my head.
Bianca sneers, cackling with glee as she throws her head back.
I can’t find my clothes.
I can’t find my—
I jolt awake.
There’s a fly buzzing around my face. Blinking myself back to reality, I swat at it as it whirs near my ear, then skitters out the open window and into thegolden afternoon. Sounds of nature guide me to the present moment as I glance around at my surroundings, realizing I must’ve dozed off while sitting in my car in front of Stevie’s house.
My drive-thru coffee is half-tipped over in my lap, leaving a brown puddle near my crotch. Excellent. Blowing out a breath, I jam the plastic cup in the cupholder and swipe at the wet stain, shaking away the residual itch creeping across my skin.
I fall asleep for five goddamn minutes, and that’s what I get.
Nightmares invading me like uninvited guests who refuse to leave.
