Mothers - 4

I discard the absent thought, and focus on the words spilling out my mouth. They are avalanches, they are boulders; rolling, tumbling, cascading down mountains.

“Daddy- he’s- he’s trying to kill me! I need you! Help me!”

She seems to be a rock as well — she does not turn.

“That’s nice honey. I’m busy right now.”

I want to scream at her, to tell her to help me, but I don’t. The words wouldn’t come. They are blocked by the hard ball resting in my throat. The ball of misery, of doom, of sadness and betrayal. It rolls down into my heart, and the words are free to come, but it’s too late, for I am back inside. I run through the halls, and suddenly Anna appears. I look at her questioningly, the silent question bright on my lips, but before I can speak…

This story has no comments.