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 for a moment the house had been struck by lightning, though, as he peered outside, he didn’t see any rain.
BANG!
BANG!
Terrified, he scurried out of bed and shut himself inside his old toy box – his favorite hiding spot. No matter how bad Mommy and Daddy fought, they never looked in there. They were always too drunk. But then again, they’d never fought this loud before either.
A few moments later, he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. It was his Daddy’s. He knew it for sure. They always sounded like this when he’d been drinking all day; his feet dragging the ground as he walked. Only, something was different this time.
Suddenly, the door burst open!
Light poured into the room!
Two flashes of thunder!
BANG!
BANG!
All at once, the bed exploded in an eruption of pillow stuffing and cheap mattress springs! Curled up in a ball, Michael held his hands over his mouth to muffle his screams, his ears ringing like the time he got hit with the cast iron skillet. You remember? The time Mommy said Daddy didn’t mean to hit him, Michael just got in the way.
Tucking his head down, he stayed perfectly still; an art he’d nearly perfected over the years. Soon enough, 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 just like that, there was no more noise.
Everything was still. More still than it had ever been before. Moments passed like hours. Minutes like miniature eternities.
He felt something squishy under his legs.
It was urine.
He’d peed himself again.
Whimpering, Michael felt his knees beginning to wobble. He knew his Daddy was going to be mad at him if he found out. He said only faggots and pussies piss themselves. Michael would have to hide them in the clothes hamper that way no one would notice.
Crawling out of his toy box, he began creeping down the hall. As far as he could tell, the fighting was over. Mommy and Daddy were probably just passed out on the couch again. Hopefully they were, that way he could hide his accident.
Making his way to the end of the hall, he froze when he got to the kitchen.
Why were Mommy and Daddy lying on the floor?
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.
