(Sheer cold has frosted my ass—maybe I am a cold ass mothafucka!....dayum that was corny)

This room omits a monotone, but a bright one, it is my room and its monotone shines bright for me. Its not a comforting place for anyone—including myself, but for what it is, its very peaceful. A weird solace.

I know why, yes I know why, I know what? I Know why Neeta's confession of the frog-granny's passing, lingers a little disturbingly in my head, in this monotone room her creepy hue is bleeding in, the color of is invisible to naked eyes. But I am not blind of it.

BEEP

(Maybe a dumb notification—but just let's pick it for the phone)

With a hook swing I grabbed the phone laying non-sentient-fully beside me.

(HOLY FUCK—why he brightness so high man!)

With a quick toggle I went to some social media, with the shimmering hope of something brain tenderly.

MHEHH

"Not another game bootleg bro—the fuck's even this shit—'Sixty-nine nights at teddy's'"

(Why in the burning hell does Teddy Grassbear, looks like a M*LESTER with BUNNY SUIT kink?)

"Nah man doom this shit—"

HAAAGUUUUUU!!!!!

(FOR WHAT PURPOSE DOES SHIT SHOOTS MULTIPLIED AT ME?)

COMINGGG MOMMA!!!

With the call of embarrasing name and my heir purpose, I descended down the squeaky stairs a second time.

Finally as I was there in the hall, mom came with a pot aromating suspiciously..scrumptious.

(It suspect that she stirred crack in it, for I could see some autumn colored streaks of wind looping 'round me. Shi—I bet maybe it gonna levitate me on some psychic-ass crap)

"Dayum—whats that spreading allat smell?"

"I tried makin' some Bamboo-chicken my mother used to make..old hag hid the dish till end—BUT FINALLY I some—how got a a lucky hand there"

There was a lot o' GIRTH felt emptying in my gut as soon as her words mentioned "chicken". Though there crawled somethin' suspicious regarding the mention of...bamboo

"Eh—mom where's the.."

With a clicking aloud she placed the pot on the dinin' table, unintentionaly cutting me. 

(Very obnoxious)

"The what?"

She said as steam drop dripped down her red tinted forehead.

"The bamboo?"

"I SCOOPED the chicken out myself kiddo, your fingers are too fragile for such heavy lifting..or pulling I think?"

(No way she thinks allat sounded funny.)

"Take a seat Ha—"

HONEY!

"Yayaya—honey—take a seat already"

(Let's make myself comfortable at last!)

This house, whenever my eyes fall on any corner of it it, there feels nothing particular, nothing too describable, lending a thought to these parts, these corners feel like a chore to rush, they are great for one thing, a residence. But whenever I take a look of it all, it all feels, insignificant to...think of, in all these corners.I wish I had something descriptive to say of but...its all bitter husk. there is an exception, my room of course. Wet with all the walls that were licked, By the pests and me.

(I would prefer to be there in a limbo than glancing shit here.)

(All the existentialism aside,' it is 8:40 as the hourhand shows, where's dad—)

KNOCK KNOCK

(HOLY—TONGUE!)

Mom stood up in a sloth pace, her face sticked in weariness, it felt like she reeked of migraine.

"THE DOOR IS OPEN—GET IN"

"Jeez—mom don't need to shou—"

The door creaks open as papa enters, his office shirt always sticks to his body that his vest is translucent, the pants never change. The color. The size, the iron press—absolutely nothing at all. I never gave great attenton to the shoes, maybe some dirt bits, maybe some gaping edges. I don't know.

Those dark wrinkled under-eyes speak no emotion. Unless their is a bark for bark with momma.

His head slowly moved left and right, there was no meaning to do that.

(Atleast in my opinion)

"Why's the door open?"

"Cuz I thought you were coming soon, so I let it open."

"Do you..have a mind?"

"I—"

Shuhh

"I am askin' you Mahi..do you have a mind?"

Tsk

There is a new quarrel ever night, this is the today's loop of a broken marriage I think...a broken marriage.

His palms lifted to commit something. Prostration. 

His breaths amplifies each day he puts the palm on his face. His breath stinks of weariness and drain, but then a twisted miracle always happen. The wearines sticks out. And he achieves the will, the will to bark. Why? 

"Can you just sit down and ea—"

SHUT UP.

WHAT IF SOMEONE BURSTS INTO THIS FUCKING HOUSE?!

"STOP SWEARING IN THE FRONT OF A KID!"

Swearing?

I could feel things rattle. The thing that did not exist in this house. I am afraid. Its about to get to me. But it never gets...extreme.

His eyes, there were now locked with mine, his eyes were not red. They had a tint but they weren't red. Red is rose. His eyes can never that soft.

"Beenli, tell me do I swear?"

"Tell me Beenli DO I swear?"

Beenli. Do I swear?

Yes...yes paa...you do.

I see.

It wasn't in my observation, but apparently mom filled my plate already. It striked in a notice now as papa picked it up.

With his two hands, he picked it up, felt like he made sure not a single drop of gravy spilled on the ground.

My eyes were fixated at it, it zoned me out.

Beenli. 

Reality snapped back to my eyes. It brought the view of that plate closed up.

Take it.

Without any further question the plate was now in my hands, the gravy still didn't drop, miracle given how filled the plate was, weird to see it didn't fell when my hand just jittered.

Beenli. Step aside.

As he said, I stepped aside. 

THWACK

Mom shot up in horror as paa tossed the table, there were brittle sounds of plates cracking, the wooden floor was tainted in deep curry and stabbed with dozens of sharp shards.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU JATIN?!—HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!"

"We are a couple Mahi, we will sleep hungry tonight—"

"SHUT UP YOU PSYCHOPATH—"

"ATLEAST PSYCHO ISN'T RISKIN' ITS KID LIFE WITH OPEN DOO—"

OWCH!—YOU—FUCKIN—BITCH—

ARRGHH

Papa groaned painfully as mom smacked him straight in the face with those sharp, pearls stickin' out bangles, point blank in the face her bangles broke. His nose bridge bled a, thin scar.

***

They...are so shameless. So despicable, today was an amplification. I can find a hundred words for them. My stomach drops whenever this happens. All the slanging. The slurs i speak, all the fun shortcuts of speaking. They all dissolve. Mom and paa are acid. They dissolve me. Everyday. I mound again. Everyday, just to be dissolved again.

I didn't realise, but mom shut herself in the kitchen door. Paa took the hands off his face. Maybe he is going after the door. Or not. His will is doomed. 

He limps to the door, even though there wasn't an injury, he exaggerated his pain, father is a con artist. 

BANG-BANG-BANG!

"OPEN THE DOOR MAHI!"

"GET AWAY FROM ME YOU BASTARD!!—STAY AWAY FROM HIM BEENLI!"

"Stop whining. Its never his fault. Nothing will happen... to our son".

Their son. Yes, I am there son.

I felt her voice, morphing into a shriek. A shriek of despair, it was pitching lower and lower as higher it was aloud. 

"open THE door Mahi!"

"GO AWAY. GO AWAY FROM ME"

OPEN THE DOOR—BANG!

OPEN IT—BANG!

OPEN—THE—DOOR!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Open the door damnit.

There was no hope. Two stomachs will go hungry. I will eat what I have. What they gave. I am not stripped of it.

I was deaf of mom's cry. The door stole her voice, father sat on the belly of the twisted table. Soup creeping up to his shoes, the blood on his face dried. And witnessing it all. Was I, slouching at the stairs, i was manifesting their current claustrophobia 

The chicken was tender even on the edges. Mom really is great at cooking. The gravy had that texture that grip, tastes like delicious lubricator for fissured tongues. 

***

My room, its the same as I left it. It isn't like the hall. The brotherhood of rooms. The big brother got gutted. Everyone is vulnerable. You are not invulnerable either. But you are safer. You are not comfortable. But you are safer.

For the plate its left on the lowest of the stare. The absolute bottom. Its convenient to be picked that way. 

How deranged I sound. how dettached. In the morning tomorrow. I won't. Every night It is the same. I love mom. I love her so much. She is kind. She is supportive in shadow. She can cook..For Dad. It's unknown for what type he is. I have seen him at the nights. He is exclusive to nights. Maybe he is verocious. But its unknown. Is he inheritly a bad man?

(Why do I think like this everynight? This dettached sense of speaking when it is him. Sometimes I feel, he is not human. Kinda feels, Its not necessary, to talk to him like a human. Its uncanny. To be thinkin' like this, in a decent sense. It will always sound corny. But then, what is he? How he thrashes my awareness?)

The night, its so bitter, why isn't it always the Hours of mom.

Why is it, a home so bitter?

A goddamn home bitter home?