Tyler Petrit Isn't Here | ✓

04

Biting my nails turns to shoving my fingers in my mouth. My fingers are covered in bite marks and I made myself bleed. It runs into my cuticles.

I don't like blood.

And Mommy didn't love Daddy anymore.

She left me alone with him, warning him through clenched teeth to not "fall asleep."

As soon as he heard her car was start, he took out all these different kinds of alcohol. He dragged me in the room and said he was going to teach me a "life lesson."

He spent the next hour telling me which drinks tasted good, or which ones just gave him a buzz. He taught me what to mix with some and not mix with others.

He hyped it up so much that I was actually disappointed when he wouldn't let me taste anything, despite how much I knew it was wrong.

When he finally passed out, I nestled into him and closed my eyes.

I woke up when Mom came home. She dropped her purse and the groceries and went straight to Dad. She shook him from his drunken slumber and told me to go to my room.

When she thought I was out of earshot, she shouted, "That's it! I'm so fucking done with you."

"What are you talking about?" Dad groaned.

"I told you not to drink with him home. Why can't you be a father? Just, for once, in your fucking life?"

"It's not like he noticed."

Mom scoffed. "You're so..."

"'So' what?"

The anger drained from her voice, being replaced with exhaustion. "I can't take this anymore. I can't take your laziness, Victor. You're the most irresponsible man I've ever known."

"Okay?" As if he genuinely couldn't believe what she was saying.

"I want to break up."

It was dead silent.

Footsteps.

"Victor, what are you-"

Screams.

"I'll do it, bitch! I swear to God I'll do it if you leave." He slammed into the bathroom and I heard Mom struggle against him.

"Put the fucking knife down."

I peeked from my room.

Dad's eyes were ablaze, setting fire to my mother's quivering lips.

He saw me at the same time Mom did.

"Victor, don't-"

Dad yanked me into the hallway. His wrists were slashed open, thin red rivers pooling in his palms. "You see what you did? Do you see what you fucking did? You made me fucking do this!"

I screamed my lungs out, screamed so loud that I couldn't focus on anything else.

Mom grabbed Dad by the shoulders, swallowing back her wails. "Okay, I'll stay," she sobbed. "Please stop. Please..."

She had to drag me from the house, to the back patio. She swung the screen door closed and sat in a chair, lighting a cigarette.

She pulled me to her lap.

Like a fragile piece of glass, she began to crack.

She couldn't tell me not to cry or that I was safe because she was crying and wasn't safe. All she could do was puff her cigarette, keep my ears covered, and sing me to sleep.