awoken

panicked whispers

"dad... car... hospital... now."

13? my memory doesn't serve me

pulling my the innocents out of bed

car

mom stricken by shock

uncertain how she managed the drive downtown

endless halls

carrying a sleeping Odin

hearding a drowsy Noni

voice slurred by poisons

his own and theirs

tongue out

displaying the gouge to me

centimeter more

it would've been gone

tooth marks embedded

lacking permission

rushing down the hall

unstoppable

following

ashamed and horrified

this monster

my father

woman tied to a stretcher

eyes meet

screeches echo

glimpsing his insanity in her gaze

innocence

truly gone

Mothers are meant to love forever. Unconditionally. Without payment. Yet in my household there came that time when Love required gifts, favours, acts of gratitude. And they were hardly returned with Love.

That moment when meals require prior thought and planning. Gestures of comfort must be asked for. When parent becomes child, and child, parent.

When everyone around me was dying, or so it felt like. When I was constantly bombarded with grief and pain. When everyone seemed to be fulfilled with sunshine while I was stuck in the rain. No. Not the rain. But a storm. Pushing me back and forth and mixing up my thoughts until I couldn't decipher what was right and wrong. Would I ever move on? Sometimes it seems like there's a force trying to egg me forward, but sometimes I miss its giant swoosh of arm and I fall back. Sometimes further back then when I began.

"Time to measure!!" I squealed, jumping with joy. "How much have I grown?" I asked my mom. The smile on my rosy cheeks was stretching so wide I thought they would burst. A look of shock crossed my moms face as disbelief crawled into her eyes. "What?" I said, tilting my head, the broad grin gone. " Jessie," mom muttered, " you've grown 2 1/2 inches." " What???" I gasped. All happiness drained out of me. "How did this happen?!!" I thought. I suddenly didn't want to grow up.