Don't Speak

There was only one rule: don’t open the door. “Don’t Speak,” was bursting through the walls, reverberating a fuzzy and airless feeling inside of John. He had Hello Dolly! on for background noise as he was looking at the bathroom door where momma was inside using. He remembered how it felt that one day when he was on the merry-go-round. His mom looked good that day.

No, not good. Normal.

(John! Don't open that door!)

It was the only time he felt like he had a normal life. He pretended to feel like that, keeping that moment on the ride watching his mom with clear eyes forever in his heart.

One shaky breath, two dirty side glances. Needles, broken and used, line up on the kitchen counter like spiked cookies, raw dough that will never be cooked. But, his momma, she's cooked, smacked out, strung out.

He blocked out the gruff, out-of-the-blue masculine voice telling him to not, yes, it was not to open the door. He ripped a newspaper to write:

I find myself writing over and over again, over again, is it over again? Is she finally going to be here while she's sit—-

“JOHN!”

He crumbled the paper and shot up from the couch.

“What cha doin’ boy? Go do what I told you,” The gruff man demanded. The man who left them both, a father figure that wasn't really a father, his blood that left him high and dry, was back. He lowered himself to eye level with the ten-year-old, not his son urchin. “to do.”

“What did you ask me to do?” John rubbed his brown eyes. ‘I don't wanna see momma die,’ John thought.

He heard Momma dying and in a haze since the days in and out felt endless—-

“Open the damn door.”

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Author note: The Half Paper Moon is available now on Amazon. Atonement will be available via JMS Books soon!