A Not So Good Day
Mark was sound asleep when his mother burst into his room.
"Get up." She ripped the covers off his bed. He shot upright, shivering, both from the sudden chill and the fear clawing its way up his back.
"W-what's happening?" Through his daze, Mark tried to make sense of things, but she didn't usually wake him up for anything. His dad was in charge of getting him ready for school, but that wasn't for another two weeks.
"Get out of that bed," his mom shouted, tearing across the room to his closet. She flung clothes off his hangers without regard, letting them fall to the floor. "Grab your suitcase from underneath and give it to me."
"Why?" He slid off his mattress and crashed to the floor, his legs shaking too much to hold his weight. Sweeping a hand under his bed, he wrenched the suitcase loose and pulled it out.
"We're leaving," she answered shortly, snatching the bag from him when he joined her by the closet. "You get two toys and whatever clothes fit in this. Everything else is staying here."
"What?" Mark's stomach dropped to the floor.
His mom ignored him and threw more clothes into the suitcase. "Stuff these in there and pick the damn toys, Mark. I'm not coming back if you forget."
"We're not coming back?" he asked in a small voice. Sometimes she got like this really late at night when she drank too much juice, but never this early.
Spinning on him, she caught his cheeks between her fingers and squeezed his jaw tight. "Stop asking me a thousand questions! We're leaving, and that's it. Finish this while I pack your sisters."
Throwing him against the carpet, she dropped his suitcase and stormed from the room. Tears surged down Mark's cheeks as he stared after her, too terrified to move a muscle. It felt like he'd been thrown in a washing machine, and now, he was drowning in panic. This had to be a mistake. He had to be asleep.
"And I don't wanna hear shit about wanting me back, do you hear me, Jeanie?!" Mark heard his father shout from downstairs.
That's when Mark knew it was time to hide; if his father wasn't stopping this, no one would. Forcing himself to his feet, Mark dashed down the hall that led to the guest bedroom. He could hear crying from behind the twins' door as he passed.
Mark hated the stuffy old guest room, but it was the last place his parents would check. Making himself as small as possible, he huddled under the bedside table and grabbed the cord phone. He dialed with trembling fingers, tapping it out slowly so he didn't mess up.
It rang three times before the line picked up. "Hello?"
Mark made sure to keep his voice hushed. He could hear footsteps coming up the stairs — coming for him.
"Hi, Mr. Blake. This is Mark speaking," he said, making sure to stay polite. "May I speak to Amber please?"
"Oh, I'm sorry Mark, you just missed her. Carter and his mom picked her up for breakfast. Do you want to leave a message for when she gets home?"
His voice was fuzzy in Mark's ear. Mr. Blake had to be lying. Amber would never go anywhere without him. She'd never make him face something like this alone.
She would never choose Carter over him...would she?
"Mark?" Mr. Blake was still on the line. "Is everything alright?"
Before he could answer, the bedroom door slammed open, making Mark drop the phone. He curled in on himself, tears wetting his sleeve as he covered his face, then screamed when his father dragged him from under the table. He tried to grab onto anything, even the carpet, but nothing could save him now.
"God damnit, Mark, get the hell out of this room and pack!"
"No, no, no, NO!" Mark shrieked until his throat was raw. He tried to fight back as best he could, but his dad's patience was gone.
He threw Mark over his shoulder, the bone digging painfully into his stomach. His father whisked him from the room without a word, ignoring his screams of protest. All Mark could do was grasp helplessly for the phone, still dangling off the hook, until the door finally slammed behind them.