My Mind is the Axe

My shoes squeaked on the wood floor, and the repeated whispered mantra, "hurry hurry hurry shit," bounced around in my brain. I nearly tripped over the door way as it slammed shut behind, and in one smooth rhythm, jammed the key into the hole and ran down the stairs. I could hear the rumble of the car, parked at the edge of the sidewalk and waiting for me.

"Sorry, I know, I'm late," I gasped, tossing my bags into the backseat. I threw open the passenger door and slid in, sighing as the cool air blew into my neck.

"What took you so long?" My dad asked, pushing the gearshift into drive.

I settled in, tapping my fingers and looked out the window, "Needed to fix my hair."

He laughed, shaking his head. I sneaked a look. His eyes were different, golden brown and full of bitterness.

"Just like your mother."

I didn't say anything and my vision blurred. Daughter lives once, mother lives twice, isn't that what they all say?

"Pack everything?"

I stiffly nodded, "Mhm. Are we gonna see Terri first?"

He hesitated, letting a car pass by us, sliding right in front.

"Yeah, she wants to go axe throwing."

I raised an eyebrow, eyeing the massive truck next to us that was driving a little too close.

"Axe throwing, isn't that dangerous?"

He just shrugged, turning up the music, "Only if you make it, baby girl."

I wrinkled my nose at the old overused nickname. I felt too bad to tell him to stop calling me that though. The divorce was bad as it already was, lasting three years and over ten thousand dollars. It was all useless now, to keep arguing and fight with someone who had all the energy to fight back, even if they were dead wrong.

The tall buildings that I was familiar with shrank almost immediately, replaced by grazing cows that littered green hills with patches of dead grass that disrupted the perfect image. The sky was a perfect light blue, with prancing white clouds, lining the atmosphere.

"Did you get that money?" he suddenly asked, breaking the silence I was maintaining. I blinked, keeping my eyes on the blur of rolling green.

"Yeah, fifty dollars right?"

"Well, I don't know. Did you check?"

I swallowed the lump of dough that had welled up in my throat.

"Yes, it said fifty dollars deposited. Thanks, I needed it," I sounded out, pointedly looking at him. My eyes flicked down to his shoes, pristine white and all. New Cole Hann shoes that he had recently bought. Before, he had bought Lacoste and Banana Republic. Now he had Cole Hann. Yet he was 'just living to survive'. Of course.

"You have money, don't say that you don't. Remember that," he grit out, as if to scold me.

My teeth jammed together, locking my jaw. All I could force out was a tight "Mhm." I was afraid that if I let my mouth go, it would run and never come back. It had been my goal not to argue like my mom had. I had to be different, I couldn't turn out the same way she did. I just can't do that to my conscience.

"You have that twenty-thousand dollar check and-"

He stopped saying words, only numbers. He even began to add them all together, and I was more than halfway to 100% sure that he was making them as he went. Their value always went up, always a few thousand more. And we always pretended he wasn't still thousands of dollars in student loan debt from 2001.

"-so you should have anywhere between 80,000 to 130,000."

"Whoa, what?" I blurted, unable to control the deranged numbers he threw at me this time.

"Yeah, that's all the money you're getting when you turn eighteen," he argued, his eyes wide and round, like he was bleeding the truth from them. Suddenly, going ninety down the highway felt far more dangerous than it already was. It was more than a blur now, it was a tornado. Everything was just too fast.

"I don't have that much money," I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut. A ringing began to echo in my ears, bouncing around in my brain like a spider. It made webs, linking them all together just to muffle and haze my cranium.

"You will. That's how much you're getting when you turn eighteen."

I shook my head, leaning back. The ringing was starting to fade, and the spider crawled out of my ear. Everything was fading back to normal again and I could actually form a cohesive thought to keep face.

"Okay," I sighed. I was tired. My head hurt. I don't want to go through a yelling race again.

Downtown of Nowhere began to appear on the horizon, the old brick and stone dull and weathered. It looked abandoned, empty and lonely. Only one corner stayed breathing and that was the corner that my dad stayed in. There was one apartment complex, standing only five stories tall with a dusty lobby and a piano that had been locked and shut since it most likely first opened.

Terri , my dad's girl friend, was waiting in her apartment, already sipping on a glass of white wine clutched in her short pink nails. Her blonde hair hung short, kissing her bare shoulders. She smiled a wide smile when she saw me, her red lips spreading across her face.

"Oh, honey, you made it," she giggled, throwing her arms open. I smiled back, half politely and half genuine and hugged her back, her flowery perfume planting seeds in my eyes.

"Hi Terri," I sighed, pulling away, my eyes watering. She held out her glass for me to hold, already eyeing my father. I turned away, taking a sip of the white wine as they kissed, my dad forgetting all about his faithful catholic girlfriend who was closer to my age than his.

Cheating since 2010, roll-tide.

Six seconds later, she pipped up, tapping my head.

"Baby, I'm gonna buy you the good stuff, leave this shit to me."

I grinned. She winked. I sipped. She laughed.

"C'mon, we're wasting daylight," my dad announced, hooking an arm around her shoulders and dragging her away.

"What daylight?" I snorted under my breath, placing the now empty glass on the counter and followed them out the door, taking one last look outside the window.

My shoes squeaked on the tiled floor and I softly shut the door behind me.

"So, what have you done this summer?"

I picked at my earring, sending her a fake smile.

"Applied for colleges, read a few books, drew a bit."

Two lies and a truth. The only thing I drew was a failed oil portrait that had no eyes. I still felt like it was watching me though, judging me from the corner of my room.

"Oh that's nice. What colleges did you apply to?"

"Indiana University. And Purdue."

The elevator dinged and as we stepped in, she began to rattle off the colleges her nieces and nephews went too. University of Georgia. Some other university.

She talked all the way until the elevator hit the ground.

"What college did you go to?" she asked, turning to my dad.

I tuned them out and just followed them, down the dark street and rounding a corner. I didn't need to hear my dad bragging about his college degree that he didn't earn and the classes that he never took. Instead, I breathed in the moist wet air, the coolness of the wind, and the firm concrete below my feet.

The axe-throwing-place had black tinted windows, hiding it away and making downtown look even more shady. Images of axes littered the window, already peeling away like cheap wallpaper.

We entered, immediately hit with the strong stench of beer. Plush leather couches were organized to the right, and the to the left, the room was sectioned off with couples throwing axes into the painted on target on thin wood. There was a dim glow to it all, making it more mysterious and cleaner than it should be.

Connor looked up from the stand and smiled, his green eyes twinkling in the dim light.

"Hey, you guys are back."

Terri smiled, nodding. "Yup, couldn't get enough."

That and the sugar sweet cocktails.

"Alright, you can just go get your wristbands and drinks at the bar since you already signed the waiver last time. Section four is open if you guys wanna head over there."

"Fantastic," my dad grinned, patting him on the back.

"Wake up," Connor whispered to me as I walked past. I paused, turning to look at him with a frown.

"What?"

"Wake up and throw as hard as you can," he smiled, winking.

Oh. He meant the axe. Last time I made the target only once. Disappointingly.

"I will," I whispered back, rolling my shoulders back. I left him standing, and moved to Terri, who was already holding out an orange plastic wristband for me by the bar.

"You need help putting it on?"

"No, she needs to be taught some responsibility," my dad cut in, taking a sip from a tall glass of beer.

"John," Terri mock scolded with a grin, slapping his arm. He grinned at me, without even a glimmer of a smile in his eyes.

I chose to not say anything, silently wrapping it around my wrist, and locking in the plastic clasp. I had heard that comment before, it was one of his favorites. Instead, I took my shimmering pink drink from the counter, and took a sip before we even reached our section. It was one of the ones closest to the bar, conveniently. The axe was hanging by its blade on a magnet, mounted against the wall.

"Who's first?" My dad clapped his hands.

"I'll go," Terri smiled, stepping forward and placing her drink on the tall table they provided. She was already half drunk from the wine so her aim was way off, her steps sightly unsure. The axe bounced off of the wood board, clattering to the floor and made every eye turn to us.

"Whoops."

"Aw, baby. Next time."

I took another long sip, letting the alcohol slip down my throat. I realized, I didn't know what was in my drink, not even last time. Whatever it was, it was good and exceeded my needs.

I went next, lining up my throw.

"Wait," Connor called, walking over. He adjusted my aim, pointing my elbow straight into the middle of the target.

"Fucking throw it."

I did, letting it fly. It sank into the wood, not in the center but close enough. My shoulders fell three inches with relief that it didn't bounce straight back to me and I giggled, happy that I was able to finally get it to stick to the damned wood.

"Good job," he smiled, pursing his lips and backing away. I grinned, turning to my pseudo parents for the night but they were laughing. Laughing over something with her arm on his shoulder. I didn't care. Totally.

I yanked the axe out, holding it out for my father, which was technically something you're not supposed to do.

"Your turn," I said flatly, all the winning giddiness leaving my chest.

"Great," he took the axe, barely aiming and giving it a toss. It sank into the wood easily, dead center.

Terri cheered, clapping her hands. I didn't, taking another sip. The next few rounds were nearly all the same. Terri and I would miss. My father wouldn't.

The alcohol was gone in the next ten minutes and when Terrie left to get another, my father hooked me under his arm like he cared.

"I love you, you know that," he muttered, kissing my head. In that moment, I felt like my mother. Stuck like an ant in a trap and made to watch a cheating husband perform his act in public, just to say that he had something permanent and stable, so that he was free to play around with ugly girls just to stroke his fat head.

"Yeah, I know," I answered, my voice devoid of any emotion.

"Here you go babe." She was back, two sparkling pink drinks in her matching pink nails.

"Perfect," I sang, taking another sip and savoring the salty burn that lined the rim.

"Oh you drink just like her mom," he sighed, taking another sip of his beer, nudging Terri's shoulder.

"Date me then."

I couldn't take it anymore, I downed the whole thing. Wasn't like they were going to notice, they were too busy playing lovers.

"Go first," he muttered, pushing me towards section four while he moved closer to Terri.

I stumbled, watching her giggle. Then my gaze traveled to Connor, watching me with a slight frown. For a second, I thought he finally figured out I was seventeen.

The ringing came back, louder than ever, bringing the spider along with it. It shook in my head, like marbles in a tin can. The sound was blaring and stunning and the cocktail made sweat glisten on the back of my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut, turning away. My father said something but it was all muffled and far away. Tightness spread from my chest to my head, and everything was getting small and big at the same time. Like a kaleidoscope of sizes, morphing and changing constantly, compressing me from atoms to the size of a god.

You've got the same expressions as your mother, that's what makes you so similar. I mean that look, how you stand and sit, it's all her.

My feet were moving underneath me, and my hands wrapped around something wooden, firm, and heavy. And then I acted before I could process and swung with all of my force straight down.

The raw sound of the axe in my hand hitting flesh cleared my head. The blade had sank on their interlocked arms. It was a sickening squelching sound, shocking every nerve in my body and created ants that scattered up my arm. Terri screamed, her pink nails now decorated with little red dots, matching her lipstick. My dad shoved me, harder this time. But the air had turned thick like water and his shove only sent waves that ricocheted off. Whether it was the alcohol or just pure adrenaline, but I swung again, almost on instinct and out of control. The blade was controlled and sliced through my father's wrists easier than wood. I watched them with wide eyes, red splattering my line of vision. Blood spilled on to my clothes, staining the floor, my face, and my hair I had spent time curling that very morning. The wrists that drove me fell to the floor, the fingers twitching like a war movie from 2005.

I never saw him hit the ground and only heard the loud thump because Connor whirled me around, heavy strong hands on my shoulders, the axe suddenly disappearing from my hands like dust.

"Wake. Up."

I jerked up from our couch in the living room, breathing as if I had actually killed and had been running away. I was in my apartment, in my living room, my bags at my feet, and my hair sticking to the back of my neck.

It was all a dream then. All a fucking dream.

My phone dinged right next to me. A text from my father read, "I'm here."

Taking a deep breath, I smoothed my hair away from my face, controlling the curls that had wrapped their greedy hands around my damp neck.

And then I opened the front door, bags in tow to go axe throwing with my father and his friend Terri.