“Flame,” Maddie whispered, and she lifted her head to look me in the eyes.
“I tried, Maddie. I tried real hard to speak to other kids, but I never said anything right. I… I didn’t understand what I said that made them laugh at me, or cry, or run away. Never ever understood. Every time it happened, my poppa would get more and more angry. And he would hit me, send me to my room because he told me he couldn’t stand to be near me.” I inhaled and continued. “He would see me playing on the floor with my toys, and scream at me that I was evil, that I was a retard. And my mama… he would scream at her too. She would try to get him to stop. She would try over and over again. But he’d hurt her too when she did. When my baby brother was born, he would scream at him too, to stop crying. But he was a baby, and babies cry all the time.”
Maddie lifted her head and asked, “You have a brother? A mother?”
My stomach fell and I shook my head. I could feel my head twitching. My body jerked and I needed to get up, but Maddie shifted her body to lie across mine and her palms caressed my face.
“They are not here?” When I looked down, my arm was held out, my sharp nails scraping over my veins.
I choked, my throat too tight, and I whispered, “Maddie… I killed them. I hurt them… I fucking killed them…”
Maddie swallowed and prompted, “What do you mean? Talk to me Flame. Do not keep it inside, where it causes you pain. Share it with me. Let me share your pain.”
My eyes shut, and I heard my poppa screaming in my head. “Flame… talk to me, please…” Maddie begged, taking me right back to that day. Right back to that hell…
Poppa had left. I heard the slamming of the door. I relaxed, and laid down on the dirt floor. I was so tired. I was so hungry. But I hadn’t dared to move, hearing his footsteps above me. If he caught me sleeping I would be punished. And my body hurt. The belt hurt and I didn’t want more pain.
Just as I laid my cheek on the dirt, I heard feet moving above me, then stop. I sat straight up and shuffled back into the corner of the hole.
My heart started beating too fast, thinking it was my poppa, and I scratched at my wrists to get out the flames before he could do it himself. I didn’t want his blades on my arm again. They hurt too much.
Then just as I’d sliced my arm with my sharp fingernails, someone laid down on the hatch above. I froze, my eyes trying to search through the cracks. But I couldn’t see anything.
Then a voice drifted down to the cellar where I sat. “Son, can you hear me?”
My body relaxed when I heard the sound of my mama. “Mama?” I whispered and I heard her sob.
“Yes, it’s me. Are you okay?”
“It hurts,” I whispered, and held up my arm to the cracks in the floor, just in case she could see. I could see the blood on my skin.
“I’m trying, Mama. I’m trying to get out the flames so Poppa won’t take me back to church. I don’t like the snakes. The Pastor ties me down and they bite me.”
Mama sniffed. “I know, baby. I know you don’t like them. I don’t either.”
I lowered my arm, and said, “Poppa says I’m a retard. I think… I think that’s bad. Because he hurts me when he calls me it. But I don’t understand what one is?”
My mama sobbed again. “Listen to me, baby. You’re not a retard. No matter what anyone tells you, you’re not a retard. Okay?”
I nodded and dropped my arm. I pushed myself to my feet and tried to reach the floorboards above. But I couldn’t. “Mama?” I asked. “Can you let me out? It’s dark and cold, and I get scared down here on my own.” Mama kept sobbing, but louder this time. My eyebrows pulled down. “Mama? Why are you crying?”
Mama didn’t say anything for a while, then I saw her fingers squeezing through a wide crack in the floor. “Can you see my fingers, baby?”
“Yeah,” I replied.