The Journey

from Sylas Wilcox

Jan. 1, 2014, 3:52 p.m.

1) Stepping of my father wedged in the corner where the floor and wall meet, bottle in hand, I quietly sneak off to my room before anyone can hear me. I click the lock and just go lay in the bed, stained with blood from the last time Mildred beat me. For an old hag she sure has stamina and a whip to her wrists.

"OPEN THIS DOOR IMMEDIATELY! NOW! Where are you?! You can't lay there all day!" I get up and face mother at the door, "Yes?" "Oh honey, you look so tired. Was work difficult today? Can I get you anything? Milk?" "No, thank you mother." I close the door with her on the other side. I just let my body slide down the door and my knees meet my forehead and I can't help but feel horrible. Suddenly, my body jolts off the door. My broken lock, some splinters of wood, and a piece of my mothers flesh lays next to me, I flinch at the sight of a piece of flesh detached from it's owner. "Mom! Are you crazy?!" "The door was in my way, I didn't see it, I am fine honey. Ouch this hurts, do you think you could get me some tea?"

2) "Get outta MY way! Caren, isn't this person just in everybody's way?" The two bitches flip their perfect hair and clutch their precious bags and walk away just laughing. Probably laughing at me. I see Abigail, she stands by the column as she always does. "Hey Abby!" She smiles when she looks my way. Abby throws one eager waving arm up into the air, "Hey Todd!" I look behind me and there is Todd, "Hi Abigail." When I reach Abigail and the column, she is flirting with another guy that walks by. "Do you even know that guy?" "He has broad shoulders." She pauses, "I could get to know him." and smiles. "Abigail, you can't just fuck everyone with broad shoulders." I don't return the smile.

3) Sitting and waiting. That is all I do now. Sit and wait. Sit. And. Wait. For what? I don't know. This is just me waiting, "Spare some change?" I yell at this fat lady walking by in her long, warm coat talking furiously. "Son, if you want to get their attention, you need to give them something worth their attention." There was a man, well dressed, staring right at me when I looked for the source of the voice. "Who, me?" "I generally look at the people I talk to."

4) Feeling the rain and dirt hit my face and body, I look up on the way down. Now, I am free.


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