That Moment

Terror

I will never forget the look in his eyes before he hit me. I was flat on the floor, trying to calm him and begging him to stop. He was overtop me, on hand on the carpet to support himself and the other curled into a hard fist behind his head. His face was flushed and his eyes unfocused. The smell of alcohol was all around and it seemed to drip from his shirtless body, though I knew it was only his salty sweat that beaded his brow. I asked him a final time to stop, reaching up to hold his face. But I only got half the words out before I felt the force of his fist collide with my cheekbone. I closed my eyes and held my breath, but only for a moment. I looked up at him, eyes still staring into nothing, and said again, stay away from your brother, who I knew was in the next room, ready to attack him again. He hit me again, this time hard enough to knock my head into the side of the TV that was sitting on the floor. I was still for a moment, but when I opened my eyes he was gone. I heard glass break outside and heard their viscous yells. I knew they were, again, trying to kill each other over nothing at all.