only took three screams with short, barely-take-a-breath, intervals, like she’d been holding it in for long time. While at the same time, Aiden had been holding whatever’s wrong with him in. Like a ticking time-bomb.
It took just three screams from her to mentally check out from this fucked up world, shedding her responsibilities and surrendering to the sorrow and pain that was always there in her eyes when she looked at her husband every morning like he didn’t creep in at four am for as long as I can remember.
Three screams.
With the first scream, I heard a loud crash coming from my brother’s room. It was so loud and so sudden, my head snapped around so fast I didn’t have the time to notice, let alone catch my mother from falling as she lost her footing, fingers scrambling to tear her evening gown.
With her second scream, I quickly got up to catch her, my ears perked up to the nerve-racking distinct sound of choking.
That sound. It paralyzed me to the spot, turning my insides into cement blocks.
I was hoping Mom was listening when three seconds passed after her second scream. I shook her shoulders, begged her to stand up and come with me to check on Aiden but instead, dead eyes filled with an emptiness that’s been eating at me since I was three years old, met my gaze. I don’t think she could see me, but when she belted out the last shiver inducing, horror movie scream, I knew.
“Fuck!” I bellow, every inch of me coiled so tight, anger making my vision hazy. For a second the white walls look like they’re glazed over by bloody red stains.
Did she know? When she screamed like that, did she already know what was going to happen to Aiden?
I mean, that’s the only explanation I can come up with as to why she didn’t get up to help her son with Down syndrome, but instead sought out three bottles of her favorite wine to console her.
But if we’re being honest, Aiden hasn’t existed for my parents since he was born. How can the Fitzgeralds be so flawed?
Fuck them! Aiden’s still they’re son!
But he isn’t supposed to be in this fucking hospital. I took care of him. I gave him medicine when he complained about a headache and when his temperature shot up yesterday afternoon. I was with him the whole time up until that point.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, but just like the past four or so hours, I ignore it.
If either of them can’t be bothered to be here for their son, then they don’t deserve to know what’s happening.
I screamed at Mom to help me, to come help with Aiden, but she didn’t.
I called my asshole of a father to come home, but as usual, his phone was answered by a sultry sounding whore, no doubt enjoying her after-hours work perks of sucking his dick, literally.
I shake my head, trying to erase the image of Aiden, lying on that cold floor, his body cold to the touch, his breathing short and labored like he was taking his last and the fear in his eyes…
Over the years I’ve experienced a lot when I looked into his eyes. There was sadness mixed with anticipation. Happiness and joy clouded by pain. Excitement and cleverness coupled with anxiety and shyness.
But goddamn it all to hell, this is fucking different! His fear and mine are different, much more heightened and on another level, and neither one of our parents are here.
“Fucking hell!” I bellow. With a burst of anger, I kick the damn chairs neatly placed by the wall, sending them tumbling down. They scrap the floor with a loud screech that I’m sure will draw attention, but no one would dare throw me out. Not if they know what’s good for them and their funding.
It shouldn’t shock me that my parents aren’t here, but it does. I’m stunned at the level of selfishness my parents have sunk to.
So, I kick the chairs again and again, all my pent-up rage and frustration that I never allow myself to feel when I’m around my family comes bursting out from within, like a volcano erupting. White hot anger blinds me for a second, demanding to be felt. Demanding to be expressed with immediate effect and the hospital hallway is my best outlet.
I grab an ugly painting hanging on the wall and throw it as far as I can. I hear the glass shattering, but all that