Shattered Remnants of a Dream

38. Fear the Voices

She could feel herself falling into the abyss again. Weak bones rattled against the ground. It was three days before her twelfth birthday. For hours she crawled along the cement, searching for anything. Anything that could go inside her mouth and be eaten. She felt sick. Her eyes went dark. But they continued speaking to her.

They were her only friends. They taught her everything about the sinful world and the sinful people in it. Only they understood how special she was, how all she needed to do was bring God into her heart to be saved. She was different from her mother and the disgusting people that woman brought into the house.

Then, she realized. After hours and hours of scraped concrete and broken nails, Naomi finally realized who the voices were. God and His angels had been speaking to her all along.

God was inside her now. God gave Naomi the power to free herself. Mother wanted to kill her, but God helped the girl heal her bruises and cuts. God kept Naomi alive and allowed her to live through hell. God saved her.

Naomi closed her eyes and listened. Noises from the floor above trickled down to her darkness. Noises of her mother. Noises of other people. Echoing on and on, deep into the night.

She clenched her bloody fists together and walked up the stairs. Naomi banged on the door many times before, but she always got tired and stopped. This time, God would give her strength. Naomi threw her body against the door and let out an obnoxious, uncivilized wail, so ear-splitting that it made her throat ache in pain. It was just the sort of wail that would send her mother into a rage.

Moments later, Naomi heard footsteps creaking across the wooden floorboards. The kitchen door flew open.

"Shut up!" Mother screamed. "Stop screaming, dammit!"

Naomi reached out for her mother. Her mother shut the door, smashing Naomi's arm between the wood. Naomi didn't scream.

Naomi's mother pulled the door open a bit wider, and the girl could see more of her mother's naked flesh. Then, Naomi felt the door smash against her a second time, sending sharp, invigorating pain up her arm.

When her mother opened the door a third time, Naomi launched herself down and sank her teeth into the tanned flesh of her mother's ankle. She bit hard and held on, feeling the blood trickle down her lips. Naomi's mother screamed and pulled her leg back, dragging Naomi across the ground. She stumbled backwards against the kitchen, but Naomi held on.

"What the hell's going on?" A man entered the kitchen with a shirt bunched around his crotch. "What are you–"

"Stay in there!" Naomi's mother screeched as she tried to smash Naomi against a cabinet. "I'll be done in a minute!"

The man scurried away as Naomi sunk her teeth deeper into her mother's raw flesh. Her mother's other foot hit the ground, and Naomi reached out to grab it. Wriggling against the counter, her mother's feet slipped, and she fell to the ground.

Naomi stood up, blood dribbling from her chin. She ran out of the disheveled kitchen, through the rotting hallway of their withering split-level, and through the door to the garage. Inside, she found a plastic container of gasoline. She pulled it down, twisted off the yellow nozzle and stared at the shimmering liquid within the case. God told her about this, and what she could do with it.

Naomi splashed gasoline all over the garage, its walls, and the door. Soon, her mother would be here, and everything would be purified. She dashed behind the door and took a box of matches from a nearby table. Her mother was never good at keeping the house clean. Naomi stuffed the matches into the pocket of her shorts and stood in the corner, waiting.