The Child of Fire

Chapter I

I slam the paint chipped cupboards and sigh. The mold that grows between the wood prevents it from making at satisfying thud. I'm so angry I wish it would make more noise to really embody the fire that burns in my chest.

"Nothing?" My throat instantly locks and I look down at my little sister Ahmay. A pool of tears grows behind her chocolate eyes. I don't have the strength to tell her the truth. I can't remember the last time I felt strong. From taking care of Ahmay to watching my mother's mental condition worsen. I feel weak, exhausted, and angry all the time. Sometimes I envy my mother. I envy the way that her brain steals her away from our reality. She spends all day wandering around the house, talking to herself, screaming about her delusions, and staring out the window. This morning she smeared peanut butter on her face and talked to me about how the government was coming to get her. "Everyone wants to be in my business. They're coming. Talk talk talk. Indirectly, directly." She went on like this for hours and all I could think about was how Ahmay and I could have eaten that peanut butter. There are times when mother asks me questions about her delusions. Almost like a friend asking for advice. I stopped giving my advice a long time ago. Mother's brain doesn't sit in reality and any time I try to talk her down she pushes back. She yells at me and tells me that I'm a stupid nigger bitch that doesn't know anything. So since I am a stupid nigger bitch I stand their and don't say anything. I just look and stare until she sucks her teeth and tells me to "gwan" (get on). I do have on trick that makes it easier. When my mother starts to ramble I stare hard at one space on her face until she starts to disappear. It's my one way of making the noise stop for a moment. Noise. The sound of mother's radio starts to fill the house. She screeches to along to the old hip hop and I can hear the familar thumping of her jumping around. Ahmay's eyes widen. Even though this is a normal night for us she is still so scared. I used to be scared too, but now there is no time for fear. I have to be strong for Ahmay; even if I don't believe in the strength myself. I kneel down in front of my little sister and place my hands over her ears.

"Remember what I told you?"

She nods. "Count to ten."

"Count." I place a small kiss on her forehead as she starts to count out loud. Her small voice is a reminder of sanity beneath my mother's singing.

I take her hand and lead her to our safety closet. When I was three and before Ahmay was born, my mother locked me in the closet for a whole summer. I knew that to was the only place in the house where the door could be locked from the inside. It was the only place mother could no barge in. It was the only place where Ahmay and I could be safe.

When Ahmay reaches six we are nestled together in the dark. Cobwebs and dust brush against our skin as I rock her back and forth. Her body quacks with sadness and I can feel my skin burn. When her sweet voice runs out of number I start to sing. It's a lullaby my mother would sing to me before her mind started to melt away.

Hush now my baby

be still now don't cry

I'll hold you by the bay

When morning comes

I'll kiss all day

Hush now my baby

you're mine
Slowly she falls asleep. I count down the minutes to an hour and mother's wails have died down. Sillence. Sweet silence. I scoop Ahmay into my arms and carry her to our room. I hope that her dreams are more pleasant that our life. As far as I know Ahmay has never had a nightmare. In the mornings she bounces to me and tells me tales of far off lands and tiny joyous fairies. I'm glad that she can find a happy world when she closes her eyes. I wish I could do the same, but the anxiety of trying to keep us both alive only leads me to hellish terrors. Some nights I refuse to sleep just to avoid the horror. I go downstairs to check on mother. She is passed out with her radio still spinning. I shut off the music and tuck her into bed like a child. I have no memories of my mother ever doing the same for me? Had she ever tucked me into bed and kissed my forehead in the loving way that I kiss Ahmay's? Does my mother love me? If she loves me then why won't she take her medication to be better? Why won't she get off her ass and save Ahmay and I from the mess that she has created for us. As I look at my mother my stomach twists. I want to take the radio and smash it into her head. I want her to feel the pain I feel every day. I shut off her light and push the thoughts away.

The shower is my favorite place in the house. Underneath the hot water I am safe. I double over beneath the stream and let out a silent wail. The hot steam comforts me and I inhale the scent of citrus soap. I can feel my stomach growling. I will have to find a way to get food soon. I used to have a job working in a florist shop, but the owner fell ill and left the store to his children. They were bitter pretentious twenty year olds who fired all the workers and sold the shop for the double it's worth. It wasn't all bad. I hated going to work. I wanted to be like the other teenagers I saw going to school. The girl whose only problems were makeup and finding a new boy to date. Then again it was bad because I needed the money and knew that I had no time for childish dreams. I bring my knees to my chest and rest my head on the shower wall. Even relaxing in the shower feels like a waste of time. I feel like I enjoy no happiness. As if I am not even the bare minimum of a human who deserve peace. When I see the sun in the morning I don't even want to get out of bed. I wish that God would just kill me. I wish he would take my soul away right while I sleep. I have thought about killing myself, but that would leave Ahmay alone and I could never do that. I care about her far more than I have ever cared about myself.

Authors Note: Chapter I to be continued