10-56

“I know how you feel… I used to be fearless too…”

Michael was six years old, and he wasn’t afraid of anything.

At least, that’s the lie he told his friends at school.

Jolted awake, he thought lightning had struck the house. Whipping around, he looked out his window.

It wasn’t raining.

BANG

BANG

Leaping out of bed, he scurried over to his favorite hiding spot in the corner of his room; the one right behind his dresser. No matter how bad Mommy and Daddy fought, they never looked over there. They were always too drunk. But then again, they never fought this loud before, either.

Something rustled down the hallway.

It was his Daddy’s footsteps. He knew it. They always sounded this way right after him and Mommy got done yelling.

But something was different this time. The footsteps sounded like panic – like fear.

Suddenly, the door swung open!

Light poured into the room! Two flashes of light!

BANG

BANG

The bed exploded in an eruption of pillow stuffing and cheap mattress springs! His ears rang like the time he got hit with the cast iron skillet! You know, the time Mommy said Daddy didn’t mean to hit him, he just got in the way.

Tucking his head down, he stayed perfectly still; an art he’d nearly perfected over the years. The footsteps trampled off down the hall. This time, more full of panic than before.

Straining to listen, he heard Daddy say something. It sounded like he was crying.

BANG

Something hit the floor.

And then, everything went dead silent.

Everything was still. More still than it had ever been.

Moments passed like hours.

Minutes passed like eternities.

He felt something squishy under his feet.

It was urine. He’d peed himself again.

Daddy was going to be mad at him if he found out. He said only faggots and pussies pee themselves. He’d have to hide them in the clothes hamper so no one would notice.

Curious, he decided he’d go see what happened. They were probably just passed out on the couch again. Hopefully they were so he could hide his accident.

Creeping down the hall, he froze when he got to the kitchen.

Why was Mommy lying in the floor?

Why was Daddy sitting against the counter?

What was the shotgun doing in here?

What happened to Daddy’s face…

Michael was six years old, and he wasn’t afraid of anything.

At least, that’s the lie he told himself.