Sweet Children

I woke up in a panic. I was sure that I heard a sound coming from my window. I yawned and tiredly glanced at my alarm clock which was on this old nightstand of mine that was actually my great grandma's before she passed away. I guess since I'm the youngest, I'm the first to get all the hand-me-downs. I didn't really mind though. The clock's brightly lit numbers hurt my eyes at first and made them go all blurry. I quickly rubbed my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt and glanced at it again. It read 2:47 AM. I let out a long sigh. I'm never going to fall back asleep...

Tap! Tap! Tap!

I jumped. What in the hell is that noise?

I slowly pulled back my bed sheets and got up out of bed. I then clumsily walked over to my window to see what the fuck was keeping me from getting back to my much needed sleep. I peaked out of the blinds of my window and knew what it was instantly. Well..I guess I should say who it was instantly..

The person on the other side of my window mouthed something to me and pointed at my window. I shook my head and shrugged. I had no idea what they had just said. They just mouthed the same thing and pointed to my window a second time. I gave them a confused look and they sighed and put their hand to their forehead. They then took both of their hands palms up, as if they were holding something, and raised them both up. I smiled and mouthed "Oh!" I then raised up the blinds and opened my window so they could climb in.

"Jesus Billie Joe..." She muttered after I had helped pull her into my small room.

"Sorry about that Em.." I replied as a scratched my nose out of habit. "I guess I'm just sorta tired.."

"I can see that.." She said as she fell back onto my bed. She let out a sigh and stared at the ceiling. She then patted an empty spot next to her on my bed, gestering me to lay down next to her. I gave her a small smile and lowered myself onto my bed beside her. I also gave out a sigh and stared at the ceiling as if we were lying outside watching the stars dance in the sky. I absentmindedly took her hand in mine and held it there between us. She then squeezed my hand gently. It remained quiet for a moment. I glanced over at her and noticed her worried expression glued to her beautiful face...I knew something was up. For how long I've known her, I could read her like an open book.

"What's the matter Em? What's wrong?" I asked in a low, comforting voice.

She sighed once more. "...My father went to jail tonight"

I looked at her with a blank expression on my face. "What? Why? ...Did he hurt you again?"

She slowly shook her head, tears beginning to form in her blue-green eyes. "No....but he hurt Natalie..." She then began to cry softly.

"...Come here." I whispered as I raised my arms up, welcoming her to get closer to me. She turned and buried her face into my chest, her arms wrapped around me tight. I then wrapped my left arm around her back, and placed my right hand on top of her head and began stroking her chestnut colored hair for comfort.

Her father, Eric, is an alcoholic. I remember this incident when Emilie and I were little kids, I was over at her house to visit and it was really late at night, probably around midnight, and we were running around our neighborhood with other kids who lived near us playing the game, Ghost In the Graveyard.

It's a game you'd play at night where you'd choose someone to be the "ghost" by a round of rock, paper, scissors, and everyone but the ghost would stand at the "home base" while the ghost runs off to hide somewhere outside. We'd chant, "One o'clock... two o'clock... three o'clock..." until we'd reach twelve o' clock and then we'd shout, "Midnight! I hope we don't see the ghost tonight!" We'd then leave "home base" and search for the ghost around our neighborhood. It was the ghost's job to jump out, surprise, and tag a player. When anyone saw the ghost they'd have to yell out, "Ghost in the graveyard!" and try to run away. Anyone who was able to run back to home base without getting tagged, was safe. Whoever didn't make it, would join the ghost's team and go hide with them and the whole process of counting up to "twelve o' clock" would repeat until everyone was caught. It was pretty much like tag, but a hell of a lot funner. Em and I would play that game all of the time....

Anyway, so that night after we had got done playing Ghost In the Graveyard, as we both headed back to Em's house and all the neighborhood kids went back to their's, we heard glass breaking near her house which sat only three houses to the left of mine. Apparently her father and her mother had been fighting, and most of the time, that meant throwing things which then meant glass breaking. The glass that we heard came from another one of her father's beer bottles.

Whenever he got drunk, and I mean really drunk, her mother, Lillian, would get angry with him and yell things like "Oh why don't you just fucking leave then! Go! Go to the bar with your drinking buddies like you always do and go fuck some other piece of trash like yourself!" Her father would then get so worked up about this that he'd slam his beer bottle against the wall. During this particular night we had barged right in the middle of one of their brutal fights and one thing led to another and they brought Emilie into it all. Her father then decided he was leaving and since Emilie was right in his path of getting out the door he picked her up with the collar of her shirt, yelled, "Move it, you little bitch!" and slammed her head against the wall. Em had a huge bruise the size of a baseball on top of her head for a week. She told the kids at school simply that she had fell while playing Ghost In the Graveyard earlier that night, which no one questioned this, even though they knew what had really happened. Living in a small town like Rodeo, everyone knew everything.

Her sister, Natalie was only a toddler then, only around two years old at the time, Emilie and I around eight years old. She's actually eight years old now, and she has to put up with all of Eric's shit along with Emilie. I hated him. I really did. How much pain he caused Em all these years, but Eric was filled with pain himself. I still remember when he was sober, before he drank and all. He was a pretty decent guy. I guess nothing's ever built to last, is it?

I glanced down at Emilie and noticed that she had fallen asleep. Her tears left stains on my shirt, but I didn't mind. I smiled and gave her a kiss on the forehead. I then reached over her and grabbed a blanket which was on the other side of her and wrapped us both in it. As soon as I closed my eyes, I fell back asleep...