From One To Another

“Mother and father are fighting again.”

“I know.”

Decka, my twin, and I were hiding behind the staircase, hearing our parents scream about who know what. I think they started with the dishes, but moved onto the stack of unpaid bills. Who knows what they’ll argue about next.

“Drear?”

“Yea?”

“Let’s go.” Decka moved away from the staircase and began walking toward the kitchen. I sighed and followed her.

“You’ve been found at the pubs numerous times this week alone! How can you expect me to believe you when you say that you’ll take care of the money?” I stopped. I looked at Decka. She looked back at me. We rushed back to the base of the staircase.

“Yea, I was there to get away from you! From you and those wretched kids you call your babies!” We heard clomping down the steps. Decka rushed towards the kitchen.

“Drear, come here!” She hissed.

“No.”

My father stopped right in front of me. He and I both knew two things. One, I heard everything he said.

Two, I’m now the head man of the household.