Souls Unfractured

Opening my eyes, I put my hand on Maddie’s face, and blurted, “She was on the bed. She never left the house like I thought. I heard my poppa screaming from their bedroom when he got home. Then he came to the hatch and dragged me out. He didn’t say anything, just dragged me into their bedroom. And there she was, covered in blood, lying still on the bed.” I moved my hands and pointed to my wrists. “Blood was coming from her wrists. And there was a knife on the bed, at her side. A long sharp knife.”

“Oh no, Flame…”            

“And my baby brother was in his crib at Mama’s side, screaming at the top of his lungs. My poppa was pacing, his hands clutching his head.  But I couldn’t stop looking at my mama, on the bed. I couldn’t stop looking at the blood… then I saw her eyes. They looked strange.  They were staring right at me, but there was no life.  It made me feel so sad. I remember my chest tightening and my hands beginning to shake, because of the blood, because she wasn’t moving, and because of her eyes.

“A noise came out of my throat the more I stared at her pale face. When I made the noise, my poppa turned round.  His face went red and he pointed at my face, ‘This is your fault you evil little retard. You made her do this. The evil in your veins made her do this. You’re a curse, a curse on this motherfucking family!’

“I didn’t know how I’d done it, but then I remembered I’d touched her. My poppa hadn’t allowed me touch anyone. I was too frightened to touch anyone, in case I hurt them, but I’d held my mama’s fingers. And I knew my touch had killed her.

“Then he came at me, came at me and took me by the collar. He dragged me across the living room, hurting my neck, until we reached the hatch. He lifted the handle, and when I looked down all I could see was the darkness. I shook my head, because I didn’t want to go inside, again. I was scared of the dark, and I wanted to be with my mama and baby brother in the other room. I didn’t want my mama to be gone. I wanted her back. Because she was the only person who ever smiled at me. And I didn’t want to not see her smile again. I didn’t want to be left alone with my poppa. Because he hated me.”

Maddie leaned forward and pressed a kiss on my jaw. But I couldn’t stop, I needed her to know the rest. I needed her to know it all.

“He threw me in, again, Maddie. He threw me into the cellar and slammed the hatch shut. I screamed for him to let me out, but he didn’t come back for me. He left me there, alone. It was so cold, but he left me there, again.”

“For how long?” Maddie’s voice was shaking. I shook my head.

“I don’t know. But I was hungry and tired and cold. I could hear my baby brother screaming all the time. And I could hear my poppa screaming back at him, ordering him to shut up. I rocked back and forth, trying to block out the screaming, trying to get warm. Then the door opened. I scurried to the side of the small cellar, the bright light hurt my eyes. My poppa jumped down. I could smell alcohol on his breath, and in his hand he held the knife that I’d seen on my mama’s bed. The one she’d cut her arms with.”

“Flame, you do not have to keep going,” Maddie said softly. When I looked at her face, tears flooded down her cheeks.

“I have to,” I croaked in response, and I lifted Maddie's hand to the side of my head. “I want you to understand me. All of me.” I tapped my head. “In here.”

“Flame,” she cried, but I kept going. I had to.

Even now, when I shut my eyes, I could smell the alcohol on my poppa’s breath. My muscles tensed, but I had to continue. “I tried to hide in the corner, but my poppa reached out and pulled me up to stand. He pushed me against the wall and used the knife to slice off my clothes. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t stand the sound of screaming. So I kept my mouth shut. And then I felt it. The knife blade slicing down my back, the pain making my legs shake. And my poppa began to count, ‘One…’ He counted every slice he made. And I felt the pain, but I didn’t scream. I couldn’t bear the screaming. But my poppa just got angrier, and he kept slicing. Kept counting until he reached eleven. He always stopped at eleven, he never got to twelve. The count never reached twelve.

“Then he stepped back and I thought he’d finished. Thought he’d finished trying to get the flames out. But then I heard the zipper on his jeans pull down, and I felt the heat of his chest at my back.”

I wrapped my arms around Maddie, trying not to go back there. Trying not to feel his hot alcohol breath on my face. His hands on my hips.