That’s what I wished for when I blew out the single candle that my mum stuck into a cheap cupcake. I should probably eat the cake, considering I won’t know when my next meal will be but I don’t want anything from her. I’m so tired of her hurting me.
I push the cake away. “Thanks mum.”
“What’s up with your face, why are you sad?” She spits out then lights up another cigarette. White smoke swirls around us both as we sit at the rickety kitchen table. This is her fourth one in a row, soon she’ll be sending me to the shop for another packet.
I keep my head down, focusing on the scratch marks that cover the top of the table. “Nothing, just tired, that's all.”
She scoffs and blows out another plume of smoke. “You’re always tired, Kincaid. Don’t you think I should be the one that’s tired? I do everything in this house. I’m always seeing to you. Don’t be such an ungrateful little boy.”
She always calls me that, a little boy. I’m not a little boy anymore and she’s a liar. As soon as I come home from school, I’m given a list of jobs to do around the house and if I don’t finish the jobs, I don’t get to eat. Or worse.
If only there was a way I could get rid of her, so I wouldn’t have to go through this anymore. I could escape her forever and she wouldn’t be able to hurt me.
Slowly I lift my head to face her. Her eyes are cloudy but I can see the anger in them. She’s annoyed with me again.
“I’m not being ungrateful, I’m just–”
My mum slams her hand onto the table, making me jump. “Why are you upsetting me like this, hm? I do everything for you and you choose to treat me like this. Apologise.”
“What?”
“I said.. apologise to me.”
Tears threaten to fill my eyes. “I’m sor–”
My mum rolls her eyes and stubs out the cigarette into the overflowing ashtray. “Not like that, baby. You know the right way to apologise to me.”
No. No please. Not again. Not on my birthday.
My hands begin to shake in my lap and I can feel my bladder threatening to burst. I can’t wet myself again. The last timeI did that she hurt me so badly with a wooden spoon that I couldn’t sit down for days.
I shake my head, allowing the tears to fall down my face. “I don’t want this anymore, mum. You’re hurting me.”
She pushes her chair back, the wooden legs scrape against the dirty tiled floor then she rises from the seat. “This isn’t about you, Kincaid. This is about me. I deserve this. I’m your mother and you will do as I say, won’t you?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head, “no, I won’t.”
She snaps her head to the side, causing her greasy hair to fall over her frail shoulder. “I’m sorry, did you just say that you won’t?”
I do my best to shove the fear away because I have to do something, anything. I need to be brave, like the hero in my books. There’s a kitchen knife to the right of me that she used to make herself a sandwich before. She probably expected me to clean up after her, like usual.
I couldn’t possibly use that. Could I really hurt her like that? But if I did, I’d be free to run away.
Slowly she begins to walk around the table and I sink further into my chair, my fingers itching to grab the knife.
“ANSWER ME!” She roars like a wild beast, fury bursting from her.
Everything happens so quickly. One minute she was standing above me and now she’s on the kitchen floor. There’s blood leaking out of her stomach from where I shoved the knife into her. I didn’t mean to do it, did I? I don’t know..
I just wanted her to stop hurting me. I wanted this nightmare to end, and now it has.
My hands shake and all I can see is blood. It's on my skin like spilled paint but there’s even more on the floor. Quickly I scramble to the sink and turn the tap, as soon as the filthy water comes out I shove my hands underneath the cold streamto rinse away the blood. Pink water swirls around the dirty sink. Once I’ve washed it away, I turn off the tap and dry my hands on my pants.
“Ki.. Kin..”
I turn to face my mum. She lifts her hand from the floor, attempting to reach out to me. Blood covers her gangly fingers. “Please.. help me.”
Help her?
