The Sober Games

Level One

“Shhh, Mom’s coming!” I snap, slapping my hand over Kinley’s mouth. She guiltily looks down at the floor, breaking my heart into pieces. Her eyes water, filling with tears, and I mentally kick myself. I shouldn’t have been so harsh… I hate to upset my sister; she’s the only thing I have. We’re all we’ve got.

            A tear rolls down her inflamed, pink cheek, creeping towards her jutted chin. Before it reaches the bottom, I reach out and gently wipe it away. The tear feels warm on my skin. Kinley peeks up at me through her stubby eyelashes, grinning slightly. I can’t help but smile back; her happiness is just so contagious.

            I squeeze Kinley tightly, holding her close. Nobody will ever take her away from me, not even our heartless mom. I watch her frightened expression, while sympathizing with her, and sigh--- things haven’t always been this way. At one time, before Kinley was even born, I was a happy, carefree child. I had a loving, caring mother.

            Mom had been a single parent, yet managed to make it on her own. Not once had I ever heard her complain about that fact. She was the kind of mom that never went a day without telling her child how much she loved her. I would always laugh at her, too young to understand. I took it all for granted. Now, I’m older.

            I’m wise enough now to know that I had it good back then; I had it real good. If I could, I would hand that precious life over to Kinley and live like this on my own. Mother would have me to herself, and Kinley would live the good life. I want her to experience a mother’s love. I want her to be the adorable kindergartener that brags to her friends about “The Kissing Hand”. When I was little, mom would kiss my hand, telling me that I’ll stay with her for the entire day.

            I would press the hand to my face, again feeling her tender kiss on my skin. The Kissing Hand stuck with me through everything, and I always knew mommy was with me. Never did I doubt that she would leave me, but today, I do. I can no longer press a hand to my face, knowing that she’ll still be there. The warm feeling has disappeared entirely. Mother is a completely different person, one that can barely be classified as human. She’s more like trash, pathetic and wasted.

            Choked coughs break me away from my memories, bringing me back to reality. My glossy eyes become silver dollars as I find my mothers, which are cold with hatred. She crosses the room and tears me away from the bed. Her fat arm fiercely wraps around my throat. Her icy fingers dig into my skin, bruising my scrawny neck.

            I gasp for air and reach out to grab her hair. I catch a few greasy locks and pull with all my might. Her head falls backward, just an insignificant bit. She doesn’t even flinch. She just shakes my neck, cutting off all my sources of oxygen. My bulging eyes roll back into my head, and I fall into a deep pit of blackness. It’s like I’ve fallen off of a cliff, and all that’s around now is a blanket of black.

            I’m losing consciousness, sprinting towards the empty sheet of black, when her forceful grip loosens. My shaking hands fly to my neck as I suck in deep breaths of air. Mom steps closer to Kinley, bringing me to my senses. I groggily shake my head, awakening from my daze, and grab the closest object that’s nearest to me. My hands clench it firmly, desperately grasping it. Mother spins around on her heels, facing me.

            That’s when I make my move. I swing the wooden bat with all the strength I can muster. It connects with her head, breaking into thousands of splintery pieces. Kinley screams. I laugh happily; the bastard got what she deserved.

            She falls to the ground, collapsing in a heap. Her face goes pale--- well, paler than it was before. It loses all color, draining completely. Her forehead changes from a sickly pale color to an even grosser bluish-purple shade. Heart racing, my eyes lock on Kinley’s.

            “Dial 911!” I shout frantically. She races out of the room and wanders back carrying the phone. Her bewildered expression resembles a deer caught in headlights. “Tell them we were playin’ a family game of indoor baseball, and--- and… you, ah... missed,” I stutter.

            Hurriedly, she taps the numbers in and presses the phone to her ear. She clenches it tightly in her hand until I can see her throbbing veins. Time passes slowly as I scoot closer to hear the phone. Finally, on the third ring, someone picks up.

            “Can I help you?” A dull, demanding voice picks up, repeating the routine answer given to every caller. My heart skips a beat as Kinley delivers my cover story. She stammers it through the phone, clumsily stumbling over her words. I sigh in relief when the lady on the other end accepts the lie, telling us she’ll be on her way ASAP.

            “Whew, that was close.” I turn to lock eyes with Kinley, raising my eyebrows. She just stares back at me in astonishment, too shocked to speak. I drop my head, ashamed. She’s too young for this. I’m too young for this.

            I guess that means nothing to our self-obsessed mother. She’s too vain to change her ways, only cares about herself. She’s just too drunk to care, too out of touch with the world around her. We could die in her arms, and even that wouldn’t change her. She’s broken beyond caring. I pull Kinley into my lap and carefully begin wiping her tears away.

            “I love you,” I softly whisper in her ear. I pull her hair out of her face, making it so that I can see her intense gray-blue eyes. They hold a stressed background, one that has been matured by the weight of a burden to heavy for her young age. Her wavy, golden-blonde hair shines and glides across my skin when I push it aside. The freckles dotting her nose and crossing her cheeks seem to quiver through her fear. I put her shuddering hand in mine, drawing tiny circles across her palm.

            “I’m scared,” she whispers, her voice cracking. I drop my eyes, not letting her see my sorrow. Not allowing my weakness to be revealed. Tears roll down my face, and I let out all of my pain. I stare up at the ceiling, not knowing what to do. We have to get out.

            “I’ll keep you safe… I promise,” I assure her, twirling her silky smooth hair around my finger. Her bright pink lips tremble in response. I sigh, unable to understand why life has to be this way for us. We’ve done everything right; we’ve been good, well-behaved. Mom turned on us for no apparent reason--- it all happened out of nowhere.

            I was lying on the couch fighting a fever. I was sick as a dog, yet happy to be spending alone time with my mommy. With a rag over my blazing hot forehead, I waited for her to come and sit by me. She was making me some chicken noodle soup--- her specialty. Her footsteps started coming closer, but they sounded strange.

            I tilted my head to hear better, leaning forward and cocking my neck sideways even more. Her stride began to get louder, angrier. I wasn’t really scared, only confused. I had never seen mother upset. She abruptly stopped in front of me, but I didn’t notice her. I had already turned my head away.

            I didn’t know she was there until sizzling, steaming hot soup fell into my lap. I jerked my head back, yelping. I screamed out in pain, thrashing around from the smoldering sting. Mom giggled behind me, acting as if my pain were only a joke. It all made no sense to me at the time so I reacted how any child would.

            “Mommy, there’s soup all over me!” I squealed at her. She just continued laughing as she strode down the hall, turning her back to me. I watched her move farther away. When she reached the end, she turned back to glare daggers at my wounded face.

            “You can take care of your own da** self!” She shouted. She stomped to her room and slammed the door behind her. Its hinges shook, rattling like the heart inside of my throbbing chest.

            Kinley jars me away from my past, taking the hurt away from me. “Skyler, was she always like that?” She sobs, wiping at her eyes.

            As police sirens sound, approaching our house, I shake my head and reply, “No Kinley, she wasn’t.”