My Life Told In Revolting Literature

Winter '69

Chapter Five

(Winter '69)

Mom doesn't understand that mirrors can't see through your skin. No matter how thick or thin you've made your shell to be, the mirror can't see your cracked bones. All those weak joints aren't noticeable when you're staring at your freckles and hair on your forearms.

She keeps trying to stretch out her skin to look a little deeper. She's even gotten to the point of buying new mirrors with no money in the bank. The mirror can't see the deep ache that settles in your marrow. It can't see the way you walk like you've been carrying boxes all your life and now you've finally just had enough. The mirror can't see that, and no matter how many times you look a little closer, stare a little longer, you can't see beneath the skin.

And neither can you, neither can I. We can't see the bruises imprinted on bones. We can't see the fluttering bugs crawling all over your ribs. Itchy, painful rashes covering your body from places we can't see.

Maybe it's all in your head.

~~~

Grandpas turned into ashes per grandma's requests and scattered all over the bridge they first met at. He's probably blown into some location unknown to us now, but he will always be in our memories. Memories we store in the back of our mind during the day but as soon as we lay in bed with our hands beneath covers and our bones start to tremble at the touch of memories that haunt our minds.

After grandpa's shocking death, at only 60 years old, mom woke up last year screaming with blood in-between her thighs reminding not only of her proof of living but also of the death of her baby.

This is why mom's trying to find her bones, maybe she'll find bits and pieces of the baby in there. And bits and pieces of her Dad in her DNA, she's just forgetting to look at the outer layer of her shell, what other people see. She's trying so hard to see what no one but her mind can see.

Her skin has now cracked, all the pressure from inside her has come out, pushing against her skin.

This isn't good for her, she just lost two important people in her life. She needs remember that I'm here. Dad's also here, maybe only physically not emotionally, but that's all we can ask for these days.

The nice officer let him out after the neighbors called the cops, worried about mom's screams of anguish. I had put myself to sleep that night, brushed my teeth like mom would have done a couple of months ago, and read myself to sleep like dad would have done when his liver wasn't bursting apart. I'm okay doing things on my own now, maybe mom and dad will look at me and be proud and think that they've raised such a smart child. Hopefully.

~~~

I had finally managed to fall into a soft sleep when I heard a dish shatter against the wood and mom's screams. It continued for 6 minutes; then there was an abrupt stop. I suddenly heard the sound of brooms touching the ground, and then it started again. Her cries got louder and louder, and I swear I could almost feel the way her voice shook my bones.

Dad didn't wake up until 6pm and soon he left to go hangout with friends, I don't think he even knows about the baby and grandpa.

So, it was a surprise to hear her talking to someone and this time having someone actually reply to her. Why didn't I hear the knocks, I asked myself over and over again.

My bedroom window suddenly was coated with blue and red lights. At first, I admit I thought it was dad coming home but mom's screams were no longer be heard. Mom would have screamed even more if she found out about dad's misfortunes and I would be able to detect the hoarse cracks that lie in-between her broken syllables.

Tiptoeing out of my room, I made my way to the top of the creaking stairs, proud of myself for not making any noise. Craning my neck to look at who had managed to stop mom's screams only to find an officer holding her tightly to prevent her from the struggling. Near her, was another officer that placed his hands over her mouth to hinder all the sounds she made.

They didn't notice me, as if my stare and presence didn't affect them. I didn't expect it to, but from all the times I saw people lurking, and others looking towards them as if they knew they were there made me think that they should have known I was there. I was there. I was there. I was there. Open your eyes; I wanted to scream. Instead, I closed my eyes and turned the corner to my room.

Alas, they never turned to look at me only telling mom to quiet down.

"Things will be okay."

"Just stay calm."

"It's going to get better."

If only it were that easy.

~~~

I woke up the next morning with a sore throat as if I had swallowed bitter drinks all night long like daddy does and how he complained that there's a hammer in his head. Mom was nowhere to be seen, and the lights were still off all around the house. I couldn't hear the sound of silverware clattering against plates, surprisingly, even when dad wasn't present mom would always find a way to get food from grandma and make something for us to eat.

Grandma's house was a couple blocks away and she always told me if there was no breakfast at the table to go to her house and she would fix me up some. I don't know if the offer still stands now after grandpa's dead and she must be drowning her in pool of tears and the ticking on her clock seems to speed up now.

The thought of going to hers sounded better than staying at home on a Saturday doing nothing but staring at the empty wall and through keyholes and pretending that I could still hear mom and dad's fights and that everything was like before.

They held together with the gold band of their rings but it's melted off in the inferno of dad's drinks swirling around in his stomach.

Everything has melted, and mom's somewhere with blood still coating her hands and her eyes are now treasure chests that are no longer holding treasures. They carry empty promises and hold hate for love.

~~~

The purple is no longer going to make an appearance on my face.