Savannah

Disturbing content ahead;

Fiona was in the mood for games, today. I call her Fiona in my head; it was my rebellion. I wouldn't dare say it out loud though.

God knows what she's do to me.

I can always tell when she wants to play, because she smiles, and she doesn't wake me up with a beating.

"Savannah, come here," she calls.

I do.

I bet my mother was beautiful once. Now she's caved in bones, hollow and full of nothing but hatred and bitterness.

"Don't you wanna take a shower?"

I do. I've been outside for two weeks, and I'm covered in all types of nasty things the men she let in the house left.

But I know there's a trick.

It's new.

"Yes, Momma."

She nods delightfully, motioning for me to go upstairs.

My mother is very smart, science was her favorite subject in school. She told me once when she was drunk and listing all reasons I screwed up her life.

The shower is already on, and the bathroom is full of steam.

Before I can run, she shoved me in there, locking the door behind her.

Immediately I clutch my throat, sinking to my knees.

My very own gas chamber.

She's left chemicals in here, a deadly mixture of them, letting them rise into the steam, contaminating the air.

I can't breathe.

I wheeze I cough, I try to stay low to the ground, trying to get some fresh air from under the door.

But she's already thought of that, so she has a towel there blocking the air. I can't pull it from under the door to cover my nose, or she'll know and this'll get a lot worse.

I don't how, but it will.

So I sit there and let the chemicals fog my mind, steal my breath, and knock me out.

I hear her distant psychotic giggle, and the haggling over an unconscious seven year old.

They settle on a kilo of coke, and twenty dollars.

I know I won't get much sleep tonight. By the way this is going, he'll probably take me for the weekend.

Suddenly, the gas chamber doesn't seem so bad.