Going Maniacal

1. Ronnie

"RONALD JOSEPH! GET DOWN HERE NOW!!" I immediately heard a woman screaming from downstairs. I was in some kind of trance, I just appeared in a small bedroom with a bed for a child. I looked in the mirror, small body, short brown hair, like a hair style a mom cuts, dark brown eyes. I look around 6 or 7. I don't remember anything before this point, but I feel everything that has happened, somewhere in my memories. I stand there, examining the mirror, a blue and white striped-collared shirt, khaki pants, and blue and green tennis shoes. "Ron, go down to mother before she gets mad again." I didn't notice him standing there, he was young, a bit older than me, roughly around 10 or 11. He was kinder than the voice I had heard earlier. He had a cut on his face above his eyebrow, I don't know from what though, but when I look at it, I feel the memory of sobs and screaming, of glass breaking. For a moment I zone into the memory, when another, louder scream bursts through the house, along with the sound of glass shattering, "RONALD JOSEPH RADKE!! WHAT DID I SAY!?!?!?!" the scream cut through the air, furious but pinned to a point I could not determine. "Ron, please, come on, I don't want you getting hurt." The kind, older boy said as he pulled me by my arm to the kitchen. An older woman stood, her face was red and she had a broken beer bottle in her hand, the rest of the bottle, along with the contents that were once inside it, were spilt on the floor. "I'm sorry mother, i don't know what's up with him today." The older boy said politely to whom I'm now guessing is our mother. "Anthony, I didn't need you, go upstairs and sit in your room," she said harshly to the boy next to me, once he left the room she turned to me, pointing the sharp ends of the broken bottle towards my face, " Now you, you come down when I call hear me?" i was shaking, scared of what she might do, "ye-s-s ma-a-'am," I replied with a shaking voice. "Now go set the table, and clean up this mess you made!" she snapped, gesturing to the spilt beer and shards of glass on the floor. I stood for a second, hesitantly, scared. "WHAT DID I JUST SAY YOU PIECE OF SHIT!?!?!" she screamed, coming towards me with the bottle raised high, as if to hit me with it. I flinch and just curl as she comes closer, too scared to move. "NO!!" I hear a boy yell at the same time hearing the sound of glass cutting open skin. But I don't feel and cuts on me. I open my eyes, seeing what I think is my big brother, Anthony, in front of me, his hand raised over our heads, to block the bottle from hitting me. Our mother is grinning angrily. There's blood dripping from Anthony's hand and one of the ends of the glass bottle. "THAT PUNISHMENT WAS FOR RONALD!!! NOT YOU!!!" mother yells, throwing her other hand down against my brothers cheek, the force causing him to fall to the ground. Her hand raises, and is quickly slapped back down against my face several times.

Then everything changes, like switching the channel on a tv, but his one doesn't last as long. I'm still Ronnie, but I'm older and wearing a black suit. I look up, ahead of me there are rows of seats, ribbons on the back. But all of them are empty. They face towards a wood casket at the front on the room, my cheecks begin to feel wet, I'm crying. The casket is closed, a big array of flowers on the top. Angled towards the chairs, there is a sign, a memorial sign. It has a picture of my big brother Anthony, one from that family dinner night when we were hit, and the other of what he would look like now, if he were still alive. Above the Pictures, it reads " In Loving Memory of Anthony Radke. Father, Husband, Son, and Brother. "

Everything stops. Everythings white. Overwhelmingly white. I'm the corner of a room, there's two men in front of me, wearing white suits, to keep them clean. My arms are wrapped around my body, fastened, like I'm a straight jacket. Then I hear a voice, my voice, echoing loud in my head. " Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie. Ronald, Ronald, Ronald. Ron, Ron, Ron." those words, over and over again, getting faster and faster with each set. Then another voice, faint, but I can still hear it. "Yep, He's rememebring who he is again. Won't last long." Then everything is quiet. There's a ringing in my ears. My voice suddenly starts again. this time the words are different. " Bottle, bottle, bottle. Shatter, Shatter, Shatter. Oops, Oops, Oops. Die, die, die." Chanting, over and over, as I'm rocking back in forth. This goes on for a minute or too, when I finally hear the faint voice from before, "Alright buddy, time to go to sleep." As he says this, he comes closer. Frightening me. But as he's right in front of me, I hear my own voice, " Bye, bye, bye, goodnight, goodnight, goodnight." I only hear this round of chants once, then a flash of red goes over my vision. And again, I'm light, and everything is dark.

The darkness is disrupted by the sound of a crowd, and a single voice. "Pete! come on!"