She sat, curled into herself on the hard wooden floor. The youngest kids’ screams were only muffled a small bit when she slammed the door shut for some quiet. This chaos was not hers. This chaos was her bff’s. Her best. Friend. Forever. (Foreshadowing: they will no longer speak). Her bff! Now shes screaming herself. Being beaten in the ribs and her young 15 year old breasts. He knew how to hit her. Where it would hurt. I dont get it. I know him. Howd her little brother learn this? Whered he learn how to hit?

As i sat, curled into myself, on the hard wooden floor, listenening from behind a locked door for some quiet, i knows its a matter of time.

As he breaks in through the locked door, i immediately recognize the sight of a gun. In slow motion, I recognize the sound of a gun barrel spinning. In slow motion i freeze.

I begin to bargain.

I begin to explain.

I begin to rationalize.

I should be able to control him, this young boy who ive known since childhood. I should reason with him. I got this!

Click.

The gun fires nothing. Of course! i shreik. Of course his weapon is not loaded. Hes okay! Were okay! Weve shared christmas’ together!

Enraged. He towers over me on the floor. This ….kid. This kid …all of a sudden has black eyes. All of a sudden hes ten feet tall. All of a sudden im in trouble. He shows me the gun barrel.

One bullet.

Closes..click

Spins….wrrrrrr

And one last time, as he presses the smelly old metal tube against my right temple.

Click.

Click.

He walked away.

My offense? I used the telephone. He was 13.

He tries to hug me hello when he sees me in the grocery store today.