iris (sally face)

little dudes

⚠️TW for mentions of domestic violence

"Why do you even bother coming home? Go back to Theresa's, I'm sure she'd love to have you. Or just fuck off somewhere."

"I'd watch your mouth considering I'm the one paying the bills around here. The fuck do you do all day? Sit around and play house with the kid?"

My dad's drunken snarl creeps through the hallway, ringing in my ears poisonously as I press my body up against the hall door. I shouldn't listen, I shouldn't, but the menacingly quiet tone of his voice is alarming. It's like the sickening feeling of dread you get before a storm starts rolling in.

"I'm being an actual parent to Iris," mom's voice trembles. "Which is more than you've ever tried to do for her."

Dad's voice is raising dangerously in volume now. "To hell with both of you. You think I asked for this shit in the first place?"

"Stop talking about us like that."

He's yelling now. Mom's pushed him over the edge. "You wanna tell me what to do one more time, bitch?"

I clench my teeth, knowing what's coming. I've heard it before, but the sound of fists and hands against flesh doesn't get any easier to listen to, nor the yelps of pain my mother emits with each blow.

As quietly as usual I creep down the hallway and back to my room, my feet thoughtlessly following the familiar patterns to avoid the creaks in the floor. And that's when Mom starts screaming.

The shriek paralyzes me, sending jolts of fear through my body until I'm rooted to the spot in terror. She's just screaming at first, the sounds of glass shattering and limbs scuffling against each other filling the excess sound until she screams my name.

"IRIS!"

I'm terrified to go, terrified to look. I can't do this anymore. Maybe I should've ran out there, maybe I should've helped fight, maybe I'm a coward.

I slam and lock my bedroom door behind me as fast as possible, pull out my phone and begin dialing.

"911, what's your emergency?"

. . .

I'm not sure if it's the blinding haze of streetlights through my thin curtains or the cold sweat flooding my body that wakes me up, but either way I jolt upright with a start.

It takes me a minute to adjust to my surroundings, remembering where I am, before I drop my face into my hands with a groan. It's been weeks, maybe even months, since I've had nightmares like this, and this is the second time this week.

I roll out of bed, picking up my alarm clock and squinting at the time. It's 3 am. I throw it down onto the carpet, giving up on trying to get any sleep tonight.

I crawl to my window, fishing my cigarettes out of my jacket that's discarded on the floor and begin unlatching the window, pushing it up just a smidge until the cool night air washes over me and fills my airways pleasantly. It's chilly, but refreshing.

I cup my hand around the flame to block the breeze as I light the smoke hanging between my lips. I can't say my first week in Nockfell has been bad. I have to admit, I'm actually kind of starting to like it here. I miss the warmth of Tennessee, but the cool misty forests and towering pines that frame the landscape here is a nice change of scenery, and I'm almost starting to love it. It provides a sense of mysterious, mystical wonder, like there's endless possibilities for exploration and adventure. It really is beautiful around here.