Crosses and Cages

Aches and Cracks

The front door of the house is ripped open and slammed shut with twice the force. Every nerve and muscle in my body tenses as I wait for the outcome. I shiver underneath my clothes, not because I am cold, but because of the never-ending fear that has taken over my soul. Footsteps bounce off the creaky, carpeted stairs, each one leaving a hole of anxiety in my stomach.

My father slams open the bedroom door and his fist hits the wall with a loud bang. His eyes spit fire at my brother and I, "Could either one of you tell me why Orlando isn't happy with this week's sale?"

Sky and I look back and forth at each other hoping that one could answer for the other but we have no idea. Everything seemed to go well to us.

Once again he hits the wall and looks directly at me, "Idu do you know? You should, you were there." I look down at my hands, callused and slightly purple from the last time a talk like this happened.

He strides over to Sky and grabs him by the collar of his shirt, "What about you Sky? You should know the drill inside and out by now?"

Sky looks down at dad's fist and then shrugs himself away, "I don't know anything sir. We did what we were told and you can count what is in the safe, it is all there, the records are the same and everything should still be up to code."

Our father casts a look at the both of us and I can tell there is no calming him down. He has that glaze over his eyes that is a warning to both my brother and I that even sleeping is going to hurt tonight.

The tone in which he continues talking to the both of us is chilling, "You both know why I am so serious about this correct?"

Sky and I both nod in unison.

"And you both understand that this is the only way that people learn? Is by understanding what they did wrong and making sure not to mess up again."

We nod again. But this time that isn't enough.

Father hits the wall again, "You must not understand, because even though you say you do, the important shit is still being swept under the rug and I'm having to deal with it as I am trying to go about my day like normal. You both know how much I hate cleaning up the shit you two sweep under the rug."

Not knowing what to do with what he said we both mumble a small, "I'm sorry."

He laughs. Laughs for a long time actually. But this isn't happy laughter, it's the type of laughter one does when they finally realize that their loved one died, it's the kind of laugh that someone lets out right after they realize they cut too deep with the knife, it's the kind of laugh someone does when all they want is the sweet relief of death but somehow they never get it.

When he is done laughing he grabs Sky and throws him into the bookshelf. Sky winces at the pain of impact and lays against the wall, not wanting to draw anymore attention to himself. My father kicks him in the gut, twice, once for the lesson, twice for the memory.

When he is done with Sky he comes over and kicks me in the side, knocking me over, and taking the breath from my body.  His second blow lands right below my jaw. My teeth scrape my tongue, causing the taste of blood in my mouth. His third kick is once again in my side, but twice as hard as the first one. My lunges struggle to move and my stomach feels like it's been torn from the inside.

Father wipes his mouth with his sleeve and his shoulders droop. "Why can't you two just get it right." He mumbles. "Maybe then I wouldn't have to do this."

As he turns to go he fumbles for the door, almost trips on his way out, and a small bottle of vodka falls from his back pocket onto the floor of our room.