The morning seemed like any other morning. Mommy came to wake me up this morning for school. Dad was still asleep. I slowly get dressed, scared of the day ahead. What would I face at school? Would I come home to craziness? Sometimes it’s things thrown on the floor. Sometimes it’s things broken in pieces. Then, what’s always there, the shouting.
It didn’t happen often. But lately, it happens almost every day. But today… I didn’t even make it out of the room before the shouting started. Dad was screaming, Mommy was screaming back. I pressed my ear to the door, trying to hear what the argument was about this time. “You never do anything right! I ask you to do the simplest things and you don’t! Or you just slack off and not do it at all!” Dad shouted.
“If you want certain things done, do them yourself instead of pinning everything on me! I have enough to take care of!”
“Like what?” he asks loudly.
“Like work! Like school, the house, our daughter!”
It’s silent. No one says a word for forever. Until I hear things breaking. He throwing things, again. “Nothing ever goes my way. There’s always something or someone to interfere!”
“Stop, stop! Kiane will hear you!”
I’m already listening, I think. What’s the point? You guys are already loud enough for the people of Europe to hear you. Dad keeps breaking things. Mommy keeps screaming at him to stop. “Nothing should ever go your way! You bring misery wherever you go!” Mommy shouts.
I hear Mommy’s strangled cries for help. “Please, please stop, you’re just angry, tired, even. You wouldn’t hurt me on purpose.” Help that I know I can’t give her and that she wouldn’t want me to get in the middle of. “Mommy!” I yell anyway. I yell over and over and eventually stop.
This violence goes on for hours. Glass shattering, things sounding like they’re exploding. At some point, Dad’s voice sounded farther away, like he wasn’t even in the house anymore. I eventually retreat from the door, my ears ringing from the constant noise outside my room. I turn away, looking down. I frantically turn back around, seeing smoke covering the ground. Fire? The smell of smoke gets stronger. “Mommy?” I quake. I don’t know what to do. Where to go. My parents have never told me what to do in this situation.
“Kiane! Kiane!” I hear. But it isn’t my mom. It’s Dad. I bolt to the door, opening it to see my mom, looking more flustered and worn out than ever. “Mommy!” I yell. She pulls me into her arms and takes off running. “Mommy! Where’s Dad?” I yell. She’s coughing, wheezing more like. “Gone.”
“He’s gone Kiane, and he’s never coming back!”
She’s got that tone of voice that shuts down the conversation. We race out of the house, past a billowing fire that we manage to somehow escape. We leave the last place we’ve ever known.