glass

 Dear mother, I'm not certain what has come over me. I musnt tell you so i've written this letter. But I am unable to put this one dream to a halt. I had a nightmare about him once more. I can't sleep. You are the only person to whom I can write. I don’t want to trouble you. What do 

The measly pencil was discarded from his sweaty palm and kissed the rug with a light thud. Ronnie wasn’t a disturbed boy for he was the one with a troubled life, troubled past fore say that still torments him. A former no child can control, one you can merely endure. How could an incident that occurred when he was only a mere lad be so detrimental to him? An event that transpired at only 5 years old and was the cornerstone of all future beliefs and actions. Poor Ronnie could scarcely comprehend the problem at hand but was drawn into it as an umpire ordered to determine who was right. He could have sworn that was the first conflict. He didn’t wish to think about these matters but was determined to make sense of events he has observed. “Think think think”, the young boy murmured as he zoned out and replayed the recollection of the recurrent dream he wasn't so fond of.

tap, tap, tap, tap. Ronnie traced the water droplets with his eyes as they journeyed, struck the roof and plummeted off. tap, tap, tap, THUD. Curiosity killed the 5 year old and preoccupied him from the mission at hand. With furrowed brows the young hero scrutinized the room for the origin of the disruption. Staggering around the small living room, he took interest and peered out the window witnessing something quite odd. Outside of that window was something he always forgot promptly after waking and has been entombed deep in his reminiscences ever since it first occurred. The hinges of the door screeched as it rammed open. Ronnie prepared his jaw for a swift welcoming but was shortly interrupted after he examined this man’s current mannerisms. He was angry. Furious. Before Ronnie could resume his train of thought, the man stomped down the hall and promptly turned to mumble a few words to him. “Where is that woman? Is she your mother?”, With minor reluctance and a horrible gut feeling Ronnie responded truthfully.

“She’s in the shower but she’ll be out soon” Ronnie bit on his tongue as if it was a sandwich and he had missed lunch again. Feeling frozen, Ronnie just sat on the floor and witnessed him rummaging through the debris on the counter before locating an old beer bottle. While retaining eye contact with him, he trudged down the hall bottle in hand. This circumstance did however peak Ronnie's attention but not in a favorable way. With a parched mouth and teary eyelids all he was capable of doing was viewing how this was going to eventuate. With a thump and a flinch from Ronnie, the stranger had barged into the bathroom and had commenced bickering with mother. With hands over his ears, he sought to search for utterly anything to distract him. The shouts got loud, truly loud. But the seriously frightening aspect was that it was silent for a second and was accompanied by mother apologizing. Not knowing what to do Ronnie desperately looked around until he heard a shatter and a scream. The glass bottle. Ronnie suppressed sobs that burnt his throat as he crawled into the kitchen cabinet and consoled himself. With a hand on his mouth masking his cries he sat there for what felt like hours. He sat there as he was compelled to listen to the weeping emanating from mother. The startling sound of footsteps commenced. tap,tap,tap,tap. Similar to the prior raindrops but made the house shake as if a horse had been taking a stroll in the hallway. Ronnie's eyes wandered in the dark space as he breathed in the familiar scent of wood. With swollen eyes he peered through the narrow opening of the cupboard. There was the same thing peering back but not quite swollen, a wide eye belonging to the interloper as he pried open the cabinet from Ronnie's grip. A shriek echoed as everything went black.

Ronnie knew this recollection rather clearly but it did have some hazy bits. It didn't quite faze him anymore but as he had it as a dream, he would awaken in a cold sweat with the same adrenaline coursing through his veins. As if.. as if it had occurred all over again seconds before. Something from years ago had now seized a grasp of a routine operation and had left him restless. Ronnie arose from his desk and staggered down the hall. there he stood in front of his mothers door, what shall he tell her? She doesn't enjoy bringing the incident up and she probably won’t recallr. What should he do? With a deep sigh and his hand inches from the door, he brings his arm down. Rather he proceeded down the hall and to the kitchen. There stood the boy and just envisioned everything as if it was occuring again. Cue the door, arguing, glass, cabinet. What was missing? How is he going to end this unpleasant nightmare? What detail is missing? The window of course. Attempting to recreate the memory, Ronnie gazed through the rainy window as he did once before. There was the tree, the truck and nothing else out of the ordinary. The door creaked open with a swift yank of the doorknob. He hopped down the stairs and marched over to the truck. Looking into the window from outside he spotted something. He noticed something, someone?

Ronnie had certainly noticed somebody through that window. There he was watching a little boy through the rain. A little boy peering through the window back at him. With wide eyes and a panic running through his brain he wasn't too certain on what to do. Ronnie moved a bit closer and saw the boy get abruptly startled with something behind him. Squinting and scrutinizing the boy there unveiled a woman behind him who had delivered him a firm slap across the face. The boy had sorrowful eyes and peered down at the floor, she had taken her arm back but Ronnie couldn’t proceed observing this. He hastily ran inside finding the child on his left sitting down, the boy had seemed perfectly fine. Ronnie snatched anything he could as protection and opted a bottle. There he swiftly walked down to the room with noisy taps coming from it. Before unlocking the door he glanced in the mirror and perceived a handprint on his own face. With a fierce twist of the doorknob, it was open and had uncovered the woman in the shower. Out of pure hatred and vengeance for striking that poor boy, Ronnie hurled that bottle with all of his might. walking out down the hall with epinephrine in his veins, but there was no boy. Until Ronnie heard a faint whimper in the kitchen. Ronnie needed to assure the child’s welfare and felt obligated to get him to safety. There he stood in front of the cabinet, he crouched down and witnessed it gradually open. The crack uncovered a puffy eye peeping through, Ronnie opened the cupboard and the panicked child screeched and fainted.