Whipped

It's Never Just an Accident

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I woke up to the sound of people yelling. I could tell that there was an argument going on downstairs. I was able to pick out Susan's voice, but she was arguing with a male whose voice I didn't recognize. Could that be Bradleigh's dad? I don't think I've ever seen him around here.

The voices were progressively getting louder, but I couldn't hear what they were arguing about. I cringed and curled up into a ball on my side. Yelling always made me uncomfortable, but that might have something to do with my fear of loud noises. I sucked in a deep breath as I felt another flashback coming on. But this was different than my other ones. This was like flashes of multiple memories, almost as if my brain picked out a ton of memories and strung them along, jumping back and forth between each one like I was flipping through channels on a television.

I started backing up from the sight of my dad and Jerome arguing in the kitchen. The atmosphere was really tense and I could tell this wouldn't end well. I watched with wide eyes, as did my other brothers, unsure of what to do. Jerome turned away from my dad and cursed under his breath. Dad didn't like this very much and soon there was talk of an actual fight. I closed myself off from the details, getting more frightened by the second. My cousin Markie and I ran down the hall and hid in my room with the lights off. I sat on the floor and wrapped my arms around my legs. "I'm scared," I whispered. "Me too," Markie whispered back.

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I was sitting on my bed when my dad went down into the basement to do some laundry. I could hear that Wes was down there playing a video game. All the sudden, my dad started yelling at my brother and I flinched at the sound of the dryer slamming shut. I got up and walked into the bathroom. I was breathing deeply. Not again, I thought. I hated whenever my dad yelled. Yelling made me uneasy. I splashed some water on my face and looked at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were wide and my mouth was hanging open slightly as I tried to take steady breaths. The fear was evident in my features. I kept telling myself that everything would be fine, that I had no reason to be afraid, but the trembling set in. My dad kept yelling and Wes, being his naturally stubborn self, yelled back. It was so loud. I could hear everything. I just wanted it to stop. My dad stomped back upstairs and I winced as his door slammed and the hinges shook.

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I sat at the kitchen table, eating my pizza in peace. Wes walked in angry at something my dad did, something about not paying him the $100. I wasn't really paying attention, I was more focused on the book I was reading. Wes called my dad and they got into another one of their heated arguments. I only caught glimpses of the conversation. "Where's my money?!" "That's bullshit!" "What the fuck?!" I bit my nails the whole time, a nasty habit I developed, trying to calm my nerves. Please stop, I thought. There's no reason to yell.

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My mother walked into my room while I sat on the bed, surfing the Internet on my Kindle Fire. "Where's your father? I need to talk to him," she said. "In his room," I replied. She strolled out of the room and into my dad's room right next to mine. I pulled my knees up to my chest defensively. I knew there would be another argument tonight. That's all they ever did. If they weren't avoiding each other, they were arguing. The yelling started and I did my best to tune it out, but they kept getting louder. My breathing became slightly more frantic. I snatched my headphones off the nightstand and blared my music from my iPhone. I mouthed the words to my favorite songs and hoped the fighting would end soon.