Not That Little Girl

Not. That. Little. Girl.

I blink rapidly, gasp for air. I turn and kick up my leg as hard and fast as I could, hoping it would connect with something that hurt. Miss. My leg swings in blank air. Mommy's eyes are black and wide: Insane. She starts to giggle like a maniac and rolls over. She grips her stomach, pounds her small ebony fist on the cracked, grey tile. Brian"Mommy’s latest boyfriend"has his big arms around me, squeezing the air out of me.

Can't… Breath…

Furious crimson tears are rolling relentlessly down my cheeks. I won't let this happen again. He won't win. I kick back, connect. Brian is letting go of me, taking steps back and groaning in protest. Says words I can't repeat. I can feel the heat of his anger behind me and I leap forward toward my insane Mommy. I put one of her arms around my shoulder and lift her with weak arms to the sofa where I lay her as fast as I could. I think I almost heard what sounded like a cackle behind me. Turning around on bare feet and flicking my glance around the room to any possible weapon my eyes finally meet his.

Brian is a weapon all on his own.

Brian's got that smile again. He jumps toward me with such immensity that I'm sure, for just a moment, my heart stops. His hands are coming toward me but I can't move a millimeter.

Red.

Black.

He lifts the back of the sofa, dumping Mommy back on the floor and lifts her above his head, all in a two second time.

“Think you can save your pretty Mommy?” He laughs and I scream; scream as loud as I can, then bolt toward him. Brian's ahead of me, but he knows what I'm doing. One swift move and he hurls Mommy through the basement window.

Glass is shattering and smashing all around me.

Wicked laughs.

Screams.

Red.

Black.

The world slows and Mommy flies through the air, crashes into bright sunlight. The thick, black curtain surrounds her and I can’t see her anymore, only the shapeless form of her hurtling to the green grass outside.

“This has to stop right now!” Suddenly, behind me are the whimpers of someone else. Brian and I spin to look.

A pretty lady dressed in a white dress that is ripped at the knees comes out from Mommy’s room and is shouting in protest. Her eyes are black orbs of terror and her hand quakes when she lifts it to point a determined finger at Brian. Her lips move wordlessly.

Along her arm are little red dots, little scars. One is new and drips a trickle of blood that rolls down her arm and off her fingertips.

Those are Mommy’s scars.

The pretty lady’s eyes are so blue they look blind. My mouth gapes open and I blink a few times to confirm what I am seeing.

It’s her: the big girl in my mind.

But… She isn’t… Isn’t…

I can’t think of the word. Those blind eyes never turn to me, but remain fixed on Brian. The white-blond hair that entangles her face seems to shake with her fear. Tears dribble pathetically down her cheeks and a scream stops solid in my throat because of her beauty. It almost hurts to look at her. How can she be so scared?

Brian roars with laughter and stumbles backwards to a small brown dresser. I pray he won’t hurt her. She deserves her little world, her universe, my universe, whatever it is.

Another chuckle shudders his shoulders as rips the dresser drawer from the dresser and lets it crackle to the ground, wood chips flying in all directions. He then pulls out a black…

A black gun.

I can’t move, can’t speak.

Her desperate blue eyes widen further.

Please no…

I watch in a daze as he lifts it level with her head, his finger tensing there on the trigger. Screams, earthquakes, tremors are exploding inside my body: destroying me inside out.

Her pink lips pale but continue to move without words.

The room goes silent.

Then it explodes.

She crumbles to the floor.

Blood crawls across the floor like a demon-creature.

The guns single eye turns to me.

I crumble.

The gun drops.

Brian turns his back to me and runs outside and away, away, away. My body jolts toward the pretty lady that now lays lifeless on the tile, her blue eyes wide open, her lips parted.

Color is fading from her face.

She should be speaking words, singing like an angel. She should be doing something. I don’t feel the tears as I touch her hair, her cheek, which was, moments ago, throbbing with life.

The deep red blood is warm, soaking through my pajama pants, through my thin t-shirt as I lay there beside her, through my skin.

You will always be that little girl.

Reviews

[AleyshaRosa]

Wow, thank you so much for that amazing review. Just to clarify one thing, "Brian"Mommy's latest boyfriend", the quotations are actually meant to be --, but for some reason they don't show up when I post.
I was hoping for the best when I posted this because it's one of my most intense pieces, but obviously it went pretty well =p
Thank you

[Tunder]

I like the fact that you stagger longer and shorter sentences through out the story. And I really enjoyed your use of phrases. If not done properly, phrases can become tiresome and make the story feel choppy, however, you executed this aspect with ease.
"Brian"Mommy’s latest boyfriend"has his big arms around me, squeezing the air out of me." This sentence confused me at first. I think it would make more sense if it read, "Brian, Mommy's latest boyfriend, has his big arms around me, squeezing the air out of me." If you were trying to use the quotation marks as emphasis, perhaps uses italics instead.
"Furious crimson tears are rolling relentlessly down my cheeks." for some reason, this particular sentence struck me. Obviously the protagonist's tears aren't actually going to be crimson, but the use of the color really shows the anger and emotions the girl is going through.
It's really quite wonderful how you managed to write this story completely in the presence tense. This is something that I personally have trouble with. It makes the story more intense, because it's happening NOW, in the present. Nicely done.
The use of the terms "Mommy", and "the big girl", suggest the main character is very young. I like how you hinted that from the very beginning.
It is very interesting that the "big girl" from the protagonist's mind is both strong and vulnerable. She stands up to Brian, but is still afraid of him. Usually, fictional role-models are unnaturally brave, and too strong to be realistic. I like that this young woman shows that you can be courageous and scared. It's also rather odd that the protagonist both admires, and feels as if she must protect this young woman. I like that she does not play the damsel in distress. Very refreshing.
"The guns single eye turns to me." This is an excellent example of flawless personification! Very chilling.
You begin this story, "Not. That. Little. Girl." and end it, "you will always be that little girl." It's the exact opposite of what I thought was going to happen. I was certain the main character was going to prove that she was grown-up, but instead, she feels as if she lost the battle, and is not old enough, big enough, or mature enough to stand up for herself, her mother, and the beautiful young woman who appears.
All in all, a very though-provoking story! I really enjoyed it, and I hope my feedback is helpful! I will be looking for more work from you.
~Tunder~