Mommy

Chapter 17: Beer

The children in the room could hear gambling and drunken laughing from downstairs. We have been waiting for almost half an hour—waiting until we heard incoherent slurs and the smell of smoke creeped under the door and filled the room.

I looked to Alex and he nodded, standing up abruptly. Only a minute later, we were outside of our room, down the stairs, looking from a distance into the the populated kitchen.

The table was still littered with small red and black discs and a few packs of cards. Beer cans and packs of cigarettes laid around the table, the air intoxicated with thick smoke. The room filled with the sound of chatter and laughing—the words they spoke slurred and not understandable. The bag of food had been untouched.

I looked behind me to Alex. He seemed nervous and hesitant about his actions, and I could see him fiddling with he frame of his glasses. He swallowed uneasily.

I didn't know exactly what I was doing, but my body ended up figuring out for me as I ended up slowly crawling towards the table, Alex staying behind on the stairway, to look over me.

I was the only one that was small enough to get the food without being noticed—and that left Alex to watch. In the plan he discussed earlier, he planned to make a sort distraction if they noticed me, or if they were getting close to.

I think that was the only thing he would do in this situation. I think, out of both of us, he is the one that truly understands what Mommy can do. And he feared it.

I sat right outside the kitchen, peeking around the corner and watching as they gambled their money and drugs away. They were clearly all high and drunk, and some of them with even a lack of clothing.

Mommy withered down to nothing but panties and a thin piece of fabric covering her old, sweaty breasts. Her makeup was all sweating coming off, her dark lipstick smearing on her face—and it looked like some of the other men's faces too. Her hand was under the table, and she was rubbing one of the guy's inner thighs. I shivered, squeezing my eyes shut.

I could've gotten the food at that second if I wanted to. The food was only about six feet away, but I was afraid that if I moved out of the shadows, they would see me. Mommy would see me.

I backed away from the entrance and looked back up to Alex, giving him a worried look. I didn't know what he was planning on doing, but he seemed to have an idea. He was going to distract them so I could get the bag. He nodded, and I returned the gesture.

He looked around on the ground, before picking up and tossing what seemed to be a small stone, or a button from the floor, up in his hands— his face going pale, although he covered it up with a nervous grin. I knew he was scared, I knew he wanted to take back his decisions to help me. If Mommy caught him, if Mommy caught either of us—it would be the end.

But before either of us could question what was going to happen, he threw the small object, it soaring into the kitchen air and landing on the floor on the other side of the room, making a surprisingly loud popping sound.

He ducked down in the stairway, seeming to crawl back into the hallway and to the room while he had the chance. But that's all I needed from him—a distraction.

The noise gained their attention. And with the short amount of time I had, I crawled in, grabbing the bag, and running back out—not daring to check if they saw me or not.

The plastic bag made a loud crunching sound as it folded between my fingers and hit my legs as I ran, but I knew I couldn't stop. All I had to do was pray that they wouldn't hear me—they wouldn't see me.

I refused to look back as I ran as fast as I could upstairs, into the room. I shut the door quietly, my heart pounding too loud to hear anything else as I took heavy, labored breaths. My arms, back, and legs hurt—the stretching and quick movements making my wounds ache.