Stand off
I keep thinking things will get better. I just keep thinking if we do what they want. But it never seems to matter. Sometimes I don't even know what sets the powder keg off. Suddenly everyone is screaming at everyone. I think momma found some chocolate in Kendall's stuff and ("She's not supposed to have it, it makes you crazy. What right do you have going thru my stuff? You little Bitch. Leave me alone.") suddenly Kendall is pinned to the floor, her arm twisted hard behind her back, screaming bloody murder which will only incense our mother more. I want to run from the room. There is nothing I can do but cry. Maybe the neighbors will call the cops. Maybe the cops will arrive at the plate glass door to the scene of 180lb mother sitting on her 11 year old daughter with a gangsters 1/2 nelson pushing her arm up so much she could scratch the top of her own head. but I can't run. If she notices me will I be next for screaming at her to stop it? I back into the living room as Kendall flails and thrashes. Suddenly she rolls and pushes and is free. Running for the front door. Her face is red and puffy from crying and screaming, her arm hangs limp and she uses the other to open the door. She's gonna make it. If she can just get away this can deescalate. But the limp arm flaps behind her and the nails bite into the upper arm and she is yanked back yowling she crumples to the floor a tiny ball kicked to the side as the front door shuts. But she leaves her there. Suddenly it has stopped. Kendall uncurls a bit and I creep over to her as our mother retreats down the hall. We both keep looking, listening for any telltale sound. The dialing of a phone. Is she calling our father, the cops, DCFS? Kendall's hand flexes and tho' sore she seems unbroken.
Next will come the hours of yelling and lectures. Even if they're not directed at me I will have to stay and listen. Maybe we will break for dinner, maybe there will be no dinner, maybe she'll stop so we can go to bed, maybe she'll yell at us for nodding off after 11. I look for a comfortable spot on the hardwood floor to wait it out terrified to mention I have homework.
Next will come the hours of yelling and lectures. Even if they're not directed at me I will have to stay and listen. Maybe we will break for dinner, maybe there will be no dinner, maybe she'll stop so we can go to bed, maybe she'll yell at us for nodding off after 11. I look for a comfortable spot on the hardwood floor to wait it out terrified to mention I have homework.
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