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The air was stale beneath the blanket
My mom had crocheted
There were hearts on it
But the air –
It was cold as it tickled my face
I couldn’t twitch my nose
I had to lie
Still
The sounds weren’t still
I could hear my sister’s breathing
Steady and even
It took eight lullabies
To put her to sleep tonight
I could hear the television
Blaring game show network downstairs
I think it was Match Game
The radiator was crackling
Blasting warm air into the chill
And I could hear his footsteps
Coming up the stairs
The tread was uneven
He went over to the old white dresser
The broken drawer from a former tantrum
Squeaking as he opened it
I could imagine the mirror reflecting
His dark, dark hair and swarthy skin
I knew he could see my books on the floor
My secret yellow notebook was exposed
The heavy tread again
Coming towards my bed
All I could see was blackness
I couldn’t open my eyes
I forced my breathing to sound
Steady and even
He touched my shoulder
And a tear trickled down my cheek
jessicamarie19 said:
This is painfully painful, but really well-written.