“Touch my fingers, baby… let me touch your hand.”
I looked around and saw a bit of dirt sticking out of the wall. Moving over, I put my foot on the ledge and lifted myself to touch her fingers. As soon as our fingers touched I took a deep breath. I loved my mama. She was kind, and she never called me names.
Mama cried louder and tightened her fingers around mine. “Mama? Can you get me out now?”
“I can’t,” she cried. “Poppa’s locked you in and I don’t have the key.”
My heart sank. “Okay,” I whispered.
“Baby,” my mama called. My head looked up trying to see her, but I couldn’t. Her voice had changed. I could tell.
“Yeah, mama?”
“I need… I need you to know that I love you. I love you so much, baby… but I’m tired. I’m so tired.”
Mama’s fingers tightened on mine, and they were shaking. “Mama, why are your hands shaking?” I asked.
Mama cried. She cried and cried, and she didn’t stop for such a long time. Then she whispered, “I love you, baby, so much. You’re so special to me. Even if you’re different, you’re my little boy. But…” She sucked in a breath. “But I can’t stay. I can’t stay…”
My heart dropped in fear and I gripped her fingers tighter. “No, Mama. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. I don’t want you to go.” But her fingers began pulling away. “No!” I shouted, and tried to hold them tighter. But I couldn’t keep hold.
“Look after your brother, baby. Protect him and keep him safe,” she hushed out, then her fingers disappeared.
“Mama!” I shouted, but my foot slipped on the dirt ledge and I fell to the hard ground. Mama’s footsteps moved away from the hatch and I heard her say, “I love you, baby. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”
I lifted my knees to my chest and began rocking. Then the house went silent. And I cried. I cried because she’d left me. She touched me, then she left.
Left me here with him…
Opening my eyes, I put my hand on Maddie’s face, and blurted, “She was on the bed. She never left the house like I thought. I heard my poppa screaming from their bedroom when he got home. Then he came to the hatch and dragged me out. He didn’t say anything, just dragged me into their bedroom. And there she was, covered in blood, lying still on the bed.” I moved my hands and pointed to my wrists. “Blood was coming from her wrists. And there was a knife on the bed, at her side. A long sharp knife.”
“Oh no, Flame…”
“And my baby brother was in his crib at Mama’s side, screaming at the top of his lungs. My poppa was pacing, his hands clutching his head. But I couldn’t stop looking at my mama, on the bed. I couldn’t stop looking at the blood… then I saw her eyes. They looked strange. They were staring right at me, but there was no life. It made me feel so sad. I remember my chest tightening and my hands beginning to shake, because of the blood, because she wasn’t moving, and because of her eyes.
“A noise came out of my throat the more I stared at her pale face. When I made the noise, my poppa turned round. His face went red and he pointed at my face, ‘This is your fault you evil little retard. You made her do this. The evil in your veins made her do this. You’re a curse, a curse on this motherfucking family!’