The Angel and the Wolf

Chairs scraped across the floor as I crunched tighter under my wooden desk; the tiny splinters dug into my back. Mom’s shreking carried from downstairs as she continued her assault on the house. “Where are you, Aubrey?” I breathed in heavily as tiny tears pooled around my eyes. I could not face her, not today. Footfalls sounded on the stairs, and I closed my eyes as I prepared for the worse. The door opened to reveal Mom; her eyes were heavy and blood shot. “Aubrey, do you know what today is?” She thumbed the top of the desk as she asked.

I gulped as I pushed myself farther into the tiny crevice. Mom didn’t actually expect me to answer; she was just taunting me. She dug her nails into the top of the desk as she sneered at me. “Don’t make me answer my own question.” The tears were free falling down my cheeks because I could already see the glint of something coming underneath the desk at me. A knife cut the side opposite of me. I cupped both hands over my mouth to keep the screams from breaking the surface.

Mom paused once she realized no reaction came from the desk, but she crouched down to see. I held my breath and prayed to God that she would not move the box. It was the only thing keeping me from her view. She sighed heavily before banging down on the desk then slammed the door hard as she left.

My heart pounded as I quickly moved the box, and crawled out of the space. Mom continued her rage fit back down the stairs as she ensured no wall was left without a hole. I quietly opened my drawers and gathered enough clothes for the next couple of days. It would be awhile before Mom sobered up. Today was the worst day of the year: my dad’s birthday. He died in a car accident when I was thirteen. We had been driving home from one of my soccer games. It was a dark, rainy night; it poured so furiously that it was impossible to see two feet in front of the car. I remember watching the water cascaded down the windshield; I didn’t even notice the headlights on the our side of the road. Dad placed a hand across my chest right before the other car collided with us. After the initial impact, I was thrown from the car, and I passed out from my injuries. They never found my father’s body, nor the driver, who hit us. Mom blamed me for the accident even though there was nothing I could have done.

I unlatched the window and carefully glided onto the gutter next to it. This wasn’t the first time I had done this, and probably wouldn’t be the last. My bag hung between my shoulder blades with my long, red hair trapped beneath it. I climbed down quietly as possible; I did not want to be caught. Just as I was about to land on the ground, a hand dragged me off the gutter. The ground greeted me as my body made a loud thud. I gasped for air, and Mom glared down at me. “Where do you think you’re going, Aubrey?”

I rasped,” Hey Mom, I was just going to stop by grandma’s. She asked me to come over.” I made my eyes lock with hers to try and convince her of my lie.

Mom grinned at me as she pressed a foot down on my stomach. “Oh really? I don’t recall Grandma calling.”

I froze, but quickly realized I needed to come up with something, anything to get away from her. “She told me the other day; I just forgot to tell you.” Mom shook her head at me before shoving her foot further into my stomach. This probably looked innocent to the cars driving by because she hid the fact she was stomping my stomach in by facing away from the traffic. All it would take is one scream. One scream and I could be out of here. One scream; no more torture.

I opened my mouth in preparation to scream, but was cut short by being hauled up. “Don’t do it.” Mom whispered in my ear as she towed me toward the front door. I watched the cars go by helplessly if I screamed, I would die. Last year, she put me in the hospital because I ‘fell downstairs’.

“There, now where were we?” Mom closed the front door, and shoved a hand in her back jean pocket. “Do you want to go see Daddy? I bet he’s waiting for you. Only.. You killed him. Murders don’t go where your daddy went. Murders go to hell. Do you want to go to hell, Aubrey?”

“No.” I whimpered as I scooted up against the white living room wall. She had me trapped. I thought to myself,” This is how I die.”