Vulnerability

by Eimy Gonzalez

We were alone.

Unconsciously, still in my sleep, I heard the slam of the front door.

We were alone, and I was terrified.

Slowly, I dragged myself from the covers of my bed. I moved so patiently that I was not sure if I was moving at all. I knew that eventually, I would have to face what was out there. I did.

I opened the door quickly. There she was, clearly eavesdropping on my awakening. Her eyes were like glass. She gave a long tight squeeze, her sour smell intoxicating my lungs. I needed to get out, I thought. Instead, I gently pushed her away and closed the door behind me after entering the living room. I tried to push my heavy thoughts away and get lost watching something, anything.

The voices were so loud. I could not hear them, but I know she did, as she clumsily turned the house upside down in search of something. I was so nervous; I couldn’t help it. The voices that lived in her head were suffocating me, too. I gained nothing from watching cartoons; I was still swallowed in fear. Still, I hoped.

I heard the clicking sound of a door closing. I ran to the window and saw her cross the lawn to the neighbor’s house. I jumped! I went in search of her phone. Time was running out, and once I found it, I dialed the only number I knew.

No one answered. I was so terribly alone.

I left a desperate voicemail and hung up immediately, just as the front door was pulled open. Her footsteps were harsh, and her breathing was heavy. She was like a ghost, passing through and shutting herself in her room.

I heard crying, things being thrown, and finally, something shattered. At first, I thought it was the sound of her mind breaking in little pieces or my heart, which was now pricking my chest. But no. She surged from her dark hole and threw the living room door open with hands behind her back.

I stood and slowly made my way away from her. Then, she attacked. Like a snake, she threw one of her hands forward to grab my own, quickly making her way up my forearm. The grip was like iron, her nails digging into my flesh. I was crying; I couldn’t break loose. She was on fire, and her smile was vacant.

“Die, die with me.” She smoothly repeated these words over and over again, like a lullaby.

I was in shock when she pulled out her other hand, revealing a piece of broken glass. Then, the spell was broken, and I sprang into action. I kicked her off with enough strength to startle her and run off. She chased me until I finally broke free. The air outside was sweet and full of spring, but all I could see were my blurry tears.

Arms were soon around me; the police were shaking me back into reality. How long had I been standing there, unaware of my surroundings? I did not know. All I could see was hatred and hell within the eyes of my mother as she was pushed into an ambulance.

I never counted the stitches she got, neither do I look at her in the eyes. If I do, I can only see the trail of blood she left behind and the screams wishing for my death.