I .
Can’t.
Write.

My fingers. No control
Hitting the wrong keys
Typing the wrong words.

My fingers are frozen.
No impulses from the brain
No command
My sentences unfinished.

There’s no direction
too many backspaces
too many Cut
too many things to say.

No write way to say it.

She poured another glass of whiskey and leaned against the wall as I watched from the other side of the room. My two younger sisters and baby brother, Sara, Lucy and John were sleeping with their heads leaning on me as our mother drank herself into oblivion. It was only a matter of time before she lost herself completely to the liquor.


I woke the three kids leaning on me.


“Time for bed now,” I whispered to them. Three sleepy eyes looked over at our mom and back at me. “Come on now, hurry up, I want you in your pajamas and tucked in when I come in to check on you. Understand?”


They nodded and left for their bedroom.


I glanced over at my mother as she poured herself another drink and started looking at the pictures of my father on the wall. I hurried into the kids’ room.


“Everyone settled?” I asked nervously.


Three heads nodded.


“When I leave, Lucy, I want you to make sure the door is locked and I don’t want you to open it until I say so, okay?”


"Okay,” she said quietly.


I smiled at my brother and sisters, turned around and walked back out into the living room where my mother was crying.


“It’s your fault!” she screamed at me.


And it began.



The next morning, my body was still where it had fallen the night before. I looked down at my body, beaten and covered in dry blood. I mused. Then I walked to the door of the younger kids and knocked lightly.


“Who is it?” a small voice asked.


“It’s me.”


The door creaked open and baby blue eyes peered out. “Why didn’t you come back last night?”


I pushed the door open more and walked into the room. “Go sit down, I have to talk to you all.”


Lucy walked to her bed and sat down, the other two sat up in their own beds.


I closed the door. “You all are going to go away from here. I can’t come with you. I want all of you to stay in this room until the police come. Do not leave your room until a policeman comes. Lucy?”


“Yes?”


“You are going to have to watch out for John and Sara.”


“Why aren’t you coming with us?” John asked.


“I’m going somewhere else. I just wanted to make sure you all were safe before I left.”


“Jasmine, you look different.” Sara said.


I smiled. “I know. I have to go now; I need to take care of a few other things before I go okay? I want you all to be on your best behavior.”


I turned and left before I could see the tears.


I went to my mother’s room next.


She was sprawled out on her bed, a bottle of whiskey on her bedside table. “Mother,” I called.


She jumped and opened her eyes.


I looked into those dark pits of alcohol and glared as hard as I could. “You won’t hurt them like you have me, mother. Your time ends now.”


She died then. Her soul lost to whatever Hell awaited her.


I walked back into the living room, past my body and to the phone. I dialed 911 and told them that there had been a murder. A girl, seventeen, had been beaten to death by her mother and her siblings were in their room. Their mother was passed out on her bed and she wasn’t responding.


I watched as the police bagged my body and my uncle and his wife took my sister and brothers. My mother was carried out in a bag as well. Only then, when I saw her in the ambulance, did I let myself go. My soul drifted into the beautiful oblivion of afterlife.

"You always have no faith in anyone."

I stayed quiet.

"Do you know what happens when you don't believe in things? Bad stuff. Take faeries for instance..."

"What is it with you and your damn faeries?" I finally yelled. "Christ."

He continued on as if I didn't say anything. "If you say out loud that you don't believe, a faerie somewhere dies. You have to clap your hands to make it right again."

"I don't believe in faeries."

He looked up at me with pain in his eyes. "Don't say that."

I looked at him with anger. "I don't believe in faeries."

It started raining.

"Since when, come on, stop kidding around."

"I don't believe in faeries."

"Stop it!" He started getting angry.

"I don't believe in faeries."

His hand connected with my face just like I knew it would. "Damn it. What the hell is wrong with you."

"I don't believe in faeries."

His anger flared again but this time he just left me there with tears sliding down my face. I slipped down onto the ground and waited until I knew he was gone. I sat on the cold, hard wet cement and started clapping my hands.

"I do believe in faeries, I do believe in faeries, I do believe in faeries." I repeated over and over again.