I lean into the warm water, feeling it fill my ears with a soft whoompf, the tip of my nose and lips just breaking the surface. Slow, measured breaths. Quiet breaths. The ceiling shimmers and flexes as I open my eyes, the water stings for a second. I like the pain. I’ve always liked it. Razors with their warm shiny edges, beautiful wet blades. It connects me to a body I don’t quite own.
The light flickers, buzzes, blacks out, wavers back to life. The cold fluorescent echoing in shadows.
Warm waves flood my scalp as Mama’s fingers ripple through my hair. Hands move mechanically, massaging my head. I go limp.
Shall I braid it?
I slide up, nuzzling my neck into the edge of the porcelain tub. I nod. I’ve missed my braid. Wiggling my fingers, I check the mobility in my left hand. A little better.
She leans over me. The light pops zzzaaap, black splatters her face.
“Sing?” I mumble.
Her hands disappear for a second. I feel her shift behind me and then lean closer.
fingers trace the red welted scars on my wrist. My blood burns. An itch only a razor can scratch.
on a treetop
fingers press into the flesh, digging, searching.
when the wind blows
Zzzzaaaaazzzaaaap a cough of darkness.
the cradle will rock
Something is shifting, changing. Her arms elongate, thinning, a yellow foot hooks over the edge of the tub.
The door handle rattles. “Ava? You in there?”
Patrick? What’s he doing here? His flight gets back tomorrow.
Zzzzzaaaazzzzzz a chaotic symphony of shadows dance gleefully along the walls.
Mama perches on the edge of the tub, all elbows, knees, and bony edges, like she swallowed a bag of hammers. Emaciated skin sucked around jagged ribs.
I wonder why he doesn’t come in. I don’t remember locking the door.
when the bough breaks
Her eyes are gone. Just a white sloping emptiness distending from straggling ropes of hair down to a pocked nose. The cheeks pull into something resembling a grin. Part of her bottom jaw is gone.
“Ava, who are you talking to? Who’s in there?!” The rugged mahogany groans as he throws a shoulder into it. “OPEN THE DOOR! AVA!”
Mama turns and scuttles up the wall, her wet, hacking voice splattering around me.
the cradle will fall
I can’t pull my eyes away, fascinated by the ripples of her distended spine protruding through her back. Bony shoulder blades squirm and jerk.
ZZZZZZZZAAAAAAAAAAAA POP the light goes out leaving me with one last glimpse of her body splayed across the ceiling above me, small but impossibly large, her head rotating, black hair falling around a sightless face.
and down will come baby
“BABY! PLEASE! AVAAAAAA!!”
I reach up in the darkness, “MAMA! DON’T LEAVE ME AGAIN! DON’T LEAVE ME!”
cradle and all.
CRAAAAACKKK! The door splinters open, a beam of light catching Mama’s form as she launches herself toward me, all disjointed arms, knobby legs, hooked fingers.
And then I am awash in fire and blackness and rushing water. Patrick diving, reaching, but he’s late. He’s too late.
Mama takes me.
Down, down into wet, shiny nothingness.