Broken

January 12 1998

They're at it again, the monthly screaming matches that inevitably happen due to someone forgetting to clean something or someone forgetting to make him food. I clung to my bed gripping my blankets and my pillow over my head, trying to block out the noise and destruction of his temper. I hear the crack of a unknown device and swearing. I close my eyes and try to sleep.

I dream of a snowy day, the flurries drifting through the air and landing softly on my skin, forming little towers that melt on my skin, I feel weightless and bounce through the trees that stretch into the stars, I feel free, and the snow cools my hot body.

"Wake up! Wake up you lazy fucking shit!"
I jolt awake, shoulders being shook by him,

"Why the fuck are you asleep you're not fucking done your chores,"
I squint at the light from the hall way, then at the clock, one in the morning.

"I-I did do my chores" I stammer, wincing knowing it was the wrong answer.

" Really boy? Then What's this?" He puts his feet on his bed, showing his heals, "You see this? Huh? You call this clean?" I whimper, shaking my head, I know his feet are clean, and I'm sure I've swept, I know I did, I didn't do it wrong did I? I get up, but not fast enough as he punches the back of my head. "Go!" I shake my head and began to sweep, my head throbbing in pain. "Come on, I haven't got all night." He yells, and I begin to sweep faster, quivering in fear. I hope he gets tired again as I weep silently, eventually he does and goes back to bed. I slowly slump to the floor, wondering when it will end.