Bad Memories.
By Opal Abernathy
He remembered that day perfectly. He always tried to forget but it was always there, in the back of his head. Like a ghost, constantly haunting him. He was 4. But he had been through so much more than a regular 4 year old would ever imagine.He sat down at his desk, thinking about that day.
It was hot. Sweltering. Especially in his bedroom. He couldnt open the bedroom window and he vaguely remembered his momma telling him not to mess with the outlets or he’d kill himself, so there went the idea of a fan.
He took his shirt off, throwing it on the floor. He was still too hot but he didnt dare leave his room to seek comfort of a cooler place. So he just picked up his toy soldier and got lost in the figments of his imagination.
“Christian!” his mother yelled at him from down the hall. He stopped playing with his G.I. Joe and looked up at the sound of her voice. He took a breath and let it out. She didnt call his name again. Maybe she would forget he was even there. He went back to playing with his toy soldier, until he heard his door creak open.
He slowly looked up and then he dropped his toy. He backed up against a wall. “Who are you?’ he stammered. The man in the door sneered at him, holding a bottle of jack in his hands. “She told me I could play,” the man slurred.
He looked away as the man stepped foot into his room. “I dont want to play with you,” he said tears starting to fall out of his eyes. The man stopped walking in and then laughed. He watched as the man pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pants pocket, pulled one out of the pack and lit it up.
“Well too bad I didnt ask for your permission you little shit,” the man snapped as he took one step forward, cornering him in the corner. The man knelt down so he was at eye level with him.
“You know what happens to little boys that talk back?” the man questioned. He shook his head, really not wanting to know the answer. The man took the cigarette from his mouth and before he could reply, the man pressed the cigarette against the skin of his chest. Once. He screamed. Twice. His voice went hoarse and he couldnt make any more screams come from his throat.
“What are you doing, I told you to wait for me in the bedroom!” a voice screeched from the doorway. His mother was standing in the doorway, half naked, leaning against the door jam. “What did you do to him?” she questioned. The man stood up and took a drag from his cigarette before looking back down at him.
“Just having a little fun, your boys a trooper,” he said laughing as he flicked the ash down on top of his head. He wiped the tears from his eyes and looked at his mother willing her to kick the man out, to hit him, bite him, burn him...kill him. But nothing happened besides a drunken giggle from her and a mocking salute from the evil man.
“I called your name earlier, you didnt answer,” his mother whined as she leaned against the man. “I wanted you to meet your new...Uncle Charlie, but apparently he took it unto himself to do the introductions,” she said laughing. She didnt even comment on the burns. She turned and left the room, slamming his bedroom door behind him.
He knocked himself back into reality as a knock on his office door sounded. He heard his assistant from the opposite side talk to the other person behind it.
“Mr Grey will see you now,”
