Screaming fills your ears.

It’s angry,

Agitated,

And filled with fury.

You run downstairs,

Worried.

When you reach the kitchen,

You see what’s going on.

Mom stands in front of your younger brother,

Mark.

Her arms are spread,

Asking a question.
Mark is tense,

Scared,

Upset.

In between them is orange juice,

Spilt all over the floor.

The glass that contained it is spread with it.

Broken,

Irreparable,

Shattered.

Neither notices your presence,

As your Mom continues to scream at the child.

But she’s too drunk to realize,

It was an accident.
There’s no use crying over spilled milk,

She had told you once.

But was there use screaming over spilled orange juice?

You call to Mom,

Tell her to calm down.
They both notice you for the first time,

And you notice the bottle of vodka.

It sits empty on the counter,

And you sigh.

You couldn’t afford alcohol,

But Mom was on a binge again.

Trying,

To forget her failed marriage.

Pretending,

That everything is okay.

Failing,

At be a mother to her kids.

Her fast food job couldn’t afford the things she wanted,

And neither could yours at the convenience store.

Go get me some Vodka,

She slurs,

Digging in her pocket.

She pulls out a few bills,

Extends her hand to you.

You take a step back,

Shake your head,

Tell her no.

Tell her that you can’t afford it.

You barely have any food.

I don’t care!

She screams at you,

And thrusts the money your way.

When you don’t budge,

She begins to swear.

It was like this every time she drank;

She would do a complete one-eighty.

But like a tornado,

There was no way to stop her.

You step over the mess,

And take the money without meeting her glazed eyes.

You put a hand on Mark’s shoulder,

And lead him out of the house.

You both are silent,

Listening only to the sound of your feet.

The clerks at the convenience store knew your mom so well,

That they sold alcohol to you even though you’re underage.

However,

They do call you mom,

To make sure that she gets it.

You and Mark are walking out,

After buying Mom’s Vodka,

When you run into Jake.

He and his friends spot you immediately,

And walk over.

Jake’s seething,

Ready to kill.

Mark looks up to you,

Making sure things are okay.

But when he sees your worried look,

He knows it’s far from okay.

When he reaches you,

He extends his arms,

Pushes you backwards.

He barely glances at Mark,

As you stumble,

Then regain your balance.

You tell Jake to leave you alone,

That now is not the time.

But it just makes him madder,

As he shoves you against the brick wall of the store.

You got Jocelyn pregnant!

Your eyes grow wide,

He shoves you again,

Waiting for a response.

Shocked,

You stutter out that that’s crazy.

Insane,

Could never happen.

You thought not seeing Jocelyn anymore,

Would end your problems.

Instead it just caused more.

He punches you in the stomach,

Where he had only days before.

You wince,

Knowing that the purple,

Black,

And blue mark,

Is only going to deepen.

Don’t lie to me!

He screams,

You look over to Mark.

He’s hiding behind the garbage can.

You tell Jake that you’re telling the truth,

A fact.

He doesn’t believe you.

He notices the shopping bag,

That you clutch tightly in your left hand.

Smirking,

He snatches it,

Pulls out the bottle.

Tell me the truth,

He sneers.

You tell him,

But it isn’t good enough.

The bottle breaks in his hand,

Against the brick beside your head.

The top smashes,

Shatters,

Explodes.

Until he’s holding what’s left of it against your throat.

You think I’m going to let you get away with this?

The glass is pressed tighter to your neck,

And Mark’s crying turns your head.

He looks scared,

Because you are being beat up.

Upset,

Because he doesn’t want you to get hurt.

Shocked,

Because he never knew that this was what happened.