"... and Wendy sewed Peter Pan's shadow to his ankle. Peter asked Wendy if—"
"But mom, why did Peter Pan want his shadow to be with him? Isn't shadow bad?"
"Barty, you know, shadows ain't bad. They are natural! The shadow appears when there's light. It means evil in goodness."
"Like the Yin?"
"Pretty close. Remember, that always sew your shadow near you, or else, evil will spread out without you knowing. Do you want me to conti—"
"HEY KRIS! I told you to bring me a beer and a baloney!"
"Coming honey, I'm sorry! Wait here dear, I'll finish the story when I'm done with your father."
Those words echoed as I stared onto our ceiling decorated with luminescent stars and map of the world. Mama breathed heavily as she turn the knob; exiting a peace bubble, entering the devil's lair, the living room.
"WHY ARE YOU SO SLOW? I AM STARVING AND THE GAME'S ABOUT TO START!" bellowed my father.
"Barty's about to sleep Hen! Why are you impatient? If you want to eat then make your own food!" my mother replied calmly.
"Well duh, Rosa. Am I the wife here? That shit's ain't a man job"
Shouts, screams, utensils breaking; I know it's chaos down there, but I have to be strong. I cuffed my pillow on my ears, but the chaos still pierced my nerves. Don't cry. Don't panic. I needed to be strong.
Clack! I paused for a moment, knowing something happened. I stood and saw a pebble on my floor. I peeped on the possible cause, the window. A child waved at me. It's Aries, my friend.
"Hey, you alright? I heard screams. Just checking," he said.
"Oh no, I'm fine. You know, dad,"
Chinas broke and arched though the garden, Aries was almost hit. Papa and Mama are still fighting, this one's really worse than the other ones.
"Are you alright?" I asked Aries in concern.
"Oh yeah, I'm fine. You know the things I taught to you. Call 911 or call me, in case of emergency." Aries replied.
He sprinted away from our lot. He just lives down the block, but I didn't even saw a glimpse of his house. Aries's a very secretive boy.
I ran back to bed and tried to sleep. But the silence downstairs bothered me. I sneaked through the panel of the stairs and went to the kitchen.
Red stains imprinted the white tiles of our kitchen. I followed the blemishes and saw my mother lying near the stove. I was shocked. I cannot move a muscle. Seeing her bleeding that bad... It kills me.
"M-mom..." I tried to ask her.
"B-bart, Mommy's fine... Call 9-1..." she said weakly, shifting her bloody hands on the handle of the knife.
I ran to the nearest telephone on the post of our kitchen and dialled 911.
"I need you here at 1690- Gemini Street, Witherspoon Avenue, Ferndale, Calif. No more questions. My mother's dying!" I said with force on the operator
"May I know who's speaking?" she replied.
"Uhm Aries... Uhm no. It's Barty. Barty Herrerro." I replied.
"Okay Barty we're dispatching units now." the operator said.
I hung up the phone, and slipped the kitchen knife down my back and went to the salas. Papa was snoring deeply while the TV displayed the nosy game. With no doubt, I stabbed papa's leg.
He screamed in anguish as the pain woke his body.
"What have you done , boy?" he said furiously as he held the knife on his leg.
"I'll give back the question to you. What have you done to Mom!" I asked him wrathfully.
"What do you mean? I don't know what you were saying!" he replied.
"She was stabbed in the kitchen, you monster!" I answered as I held the glass figurine of an angel and bluntly knocked him down.
Sirens rang the area. Volunteers ran to and fro. I became nauseate as words from the events circled my head. I went down, turning my vision into black.
I paced out and clang my head in the air. Am I dreaming? No. Yes? Maybe.
I wiped the pouring sweat on my head and breathed hardly on my liniments. Nothing makes me anxious, than that thing. It never let me at peace, even if it's 16 years ago.