Lightning without Thunder

The devil

I never liked the hallways of my apartment block. They are cramped, grey, and cold. It is as if the concrete walls suck all the warmth and colour out of everything. I always thought of them as the gates to hell, the portal between the world outside and the netherworld I call home.

The policeman taps twice on the weathered, wooden apartment door while I fidget with the bottom of my skirt and glance down at the concrete floor. When nobody answers, he knocks again, more forcefully this time. The door is trembling against its hinges.

Eventually, my mom finally opens the door. Her dirty blond hair sticks to her face; she has large bags under her eyes; and dried blood sticks to the corner of her mouth. She is wearing a sleeveless nightgown with large, dark stains. The skirt is extremely frayed, and the fabric is torn in several places.

She holds a half-full bottle of vodka in one hand and rubs her blue eyes with the other. She looks at me, rolls her eyes, and then turns to face the officer. "What did she do this time?"

The officer folds his hands. "Can we please come in?"

Mom opens the door to allow the officer into the living room. She walks around the living room table, which is covered in dirty dishes, empty packages, and other trash. She then walks past the similarly cluttered kitchen counter before coming to a halt at the filthy, stained couch.

She looks at the stench-filled couch, which is as messy as the rest of the room, and simply turns around without sitting down. All while refusing to look at me or acknowledge my existence. "What did she do?"

The officer looks over at me. "Why don't you tell her?"

Mom scoffs as she takes a sip from her bottle, spilling some of it onto her nightgown. "Don't bother talking to her officer." She leans forward towards him. "She is deaf."

The officer frowns. "Ma'am, I spoke to her earlier. She can lipread almost flawlessly. I don't understand why you can't ..."

Mom gestures at me with her bottle, spilling some of the contents on my hoodie. My stomach turns at the smell of the alcohol, and I fight the urge to retch.

"Let me tell you something about this girl, officer." She pokes at me with her finger. "She has only been deaf for a year, but she could lipread before then. She has been able to do so since she was a little girl. She always liked to eavesdrop. She was always a little troublemaker, sticking her nose in adult affairs."

She takes another swig from her bottle. "I don't want to hear another word from her lying, silver-tongued mouth, so you tell me, officer, what did she do this time?"

The officer looks at me with pursed lips. "Very well then." He says. "She ran into a bank during a bank robbery. She obstructed an active police operation and assaulted a police officer in the process. She also vandalised a police vehicle. The lieutenant decided not to press charges, but we would like to emphasise that what she did was extremely dangerous. She could have been injured or killed! Next time, she might not be so lucky."

"I was never in danger," I protest. "I am invulnerable."

Mom scoffs. "Yeah right. It doesn't stop you from getting lots of cuts and bruises, doing whatever you do all day." She turns back to the officer. "Do you mind if I speak to you alone?"

The officer frowns. "If you insist."

She splashes with her bottle, as if I am an evil spirit that she is trying to banish with holy water. Stains appear all over my clothes, from my scarf to my boots.

"Go to your room." She yells. "Let me talk to this man alone."

I force myself not to vomit or cry. I look at the ground and quickly walk to my room, eager to escape the conversation. I close the door behind me.