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Comforters

Melissa Baskerville

    Mother and Dad are shouting at each other again on the patio outside the master bedroom. Every passerby stops and watches them through the fence. My heart is beating so fast and my breaths are short. I sit down on the furthest bed from the sliding doors that lead to the patio. The mattress springs creak.
    Mom stands up and points her finger at Dad. My mother has so many rings on her fingers. Each ring glistens in the light, except the only one that matters. She snatches that one off and throws to the ground. Then Dad stands up. I have to cover my ears.
    The ugly colors on the comforters covering these beds begin to blur. I get up and run to the kitchen. I open the knife drawer and pull out the biggest, sharpest one I can find. I set the blade against my arm. Then my mother screams. I run back to the room. She holds a hand to her face as she cowers away from Dad. He stalks towards her; his fists are clenched.
    I run outside and stand in front of my mother. Dad’s eyes immediately go to the knife in my hand.
    “Go back inside.” He says.
    “No.” I say.
    “Honey, listen to your father and go back inside.” My mother says. Her whole body is trembling.
    Dad grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me. “Damn it, I said go back inside.”
    My teeth rattle as my head rocks back and forth. I cut him on the arm, straight through the sleeve of his pristine, dark grey suit. He lets me go then and backs away, clutching his arm. I turn around to face my mother and she slaps me straight across the face. I stare at her as she snatches my arm into her hand and drags me back towards the bedroom. She pushes me inside.
    “Stay here.” She says as she slides the door shut.
    She then goes back to my dad and inspects his sleeve. Very soon, the tears blur my vision again. I turn away. The comforter on the bed closest to the sliding doors catches my eye. I walk to that bed. My breath is short again and my face is so hot.
    I raise the knife. Then I plunge it into mattress and into the ugly comforter. I raise my arm and plunge over and over and over again. The comforter is finally in ribbons.
    My lungs expand as widely as they can go. I look out on the patio once again as I wipe the sweat from atop my brow. My dad and mother are holding onto each other as if for dear life. When they kiss each other, I turn away. I leave them, the room, and the mess I made behind.
    I enter the bathroom and shut the door, locking it. I sit at the edge of the tub. I raise my arm. The green and blue veins really stand out. I set the blade against them and press down. Now the green and blue are covered in red.

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