Closed in and Numb

Pulling up to the parking lot, Becca hesitated in opening the door. Glancing at the time, she calculated about one hundred and sixty-eight hours of her time in a home that she no longer belonged in. Sluggishly she got out of the car and took her bags out from the trunk. Walking up the steps she saw old markings made with chalk, from the days she used to be innocent. Such memories no longer remained in her head, she sighed and then gave two loud knocks to the door. She heard footsteps and then a yell, another argument about to break out she figured. Home sweet home, she just couldn't wait to be put in a corner like some kind of homeless man just needing a place to sleep.

Her humble abode had turned into a place she now detests. A middle-aged woman opens the door, with a cigarette in her mouth, her curly hair is all over the place, and she's wearing a stained almost see-through blouse. Becca gives a disgusted look and starts to cough. She walks right in and instantly goes inside her prison room. The walls peeled, and spider webs surrounded all the corners of the ceiling. The bed is stained with spilled coffee and cigarette burns, holes are ripped from the middle, and it's just set on the floor. The old TV meant for the kitchen is now on the floor across the bed. She closes the door behind her and tries to get some rest, although she knows that in this house rest is a word not commonly known.

A loud sound of glass breaking against the wall woke Becca up, she gave a loud sigh as she saw that not even ten minutes had passed by. Plates were already being smashed against walls and floors. The cries of children were starting to grow as she heard swearing after every broken dish crash. It was hard to distinguish what the argument was about since the loudest voice sounded hoarse; she figured it came from the old smoking woman. The swearing continued and not too shortly after Becca heard a soft knock on her door. As she went to open the door, four little children ran inside and hid themselves under the covers. A small smirk appeared on her face, she thought of all the possible ways these children remained so innocent after living in such an evil home. She pitied them, she was free to leave this place whenever she pleased, but Becca knew they were not blessed with the same luck.

She thought of why she even bothered to come back to this place she hated so much, and then as if reading her mind, the children gave her a look she was not used to. They looked at her with admiration and respect. These children were the reason she would always come back, a blessing and a curse she thought. She hated coming home but loved those kids so much she would take the risk anyway. Coming back to reality, the yelling and swearing continued, along with the crashing and banging of things being thrown around. The sound of police sirens would be coming in soon, she thought. To some, this might be shocking and frightening, but to Becca, this was just another typical night involving the old smoking hag and her lover of the week. Looking back at the old clock with the numbers fading and the minute hand slightly bent, she figured it was about three in the morning. The children were fast asleep each holding their comfort toy close to them. Dehydrated Becca listened for any hostile noises coming from the outside, nothing but the static sound of the television was heard. She opened the door; broken glass surrounded the entire living room floor. She winced as a blade of glass cut her foot, she let out a soft swear and pulled out the broken glass.

Once in the kitchen, Becca gagged at the smell of rotten eggs mixed with sour milk and pickle juice spilled on the floor. The ceiling fan looked as if it was about to collapse at any moment, the wallpaper was peeling off as cockroaches made their way across the kitchen. The floor tiles, once white was now piss yellow and covered with old food crumbs, colonies of ants crawling around, and cigarette butts with lipstick markings on them. Flies swarmed back and forth, as Becca made her way to the fridge. It was no surprise to her that inside the fridge was nothing but booze, cheap booze, and an old moldy piece of cheese. She grabbed one of the cans of cheap booze and made her way back to the jail cell. Before she was able to make it to her room, she couldn't help but notice how oddly quiet it was. It was almost unnatural, she decided to have a look around and found the old lady knocked out on the floor with no sign of her lover which Becca found completely normal. She looked at the table and scoffed as she held a barrel tube from a Bic pen that had been used to snort cocaine.

She sat down beside the drugged-out body of the old woman and pushed back the hair from her face. Becca looked at her face and gave a soft laugh as she caressed this woman's head, she remembered how it used to be the other way around. When the old smoking hag was a loving mother, and the lover of the week was the father who loved her. And as quickly as she remembered those things, they faded even quicker,r and reality set back in. This woman was a stranger to her and deserved no compassion, so Becca got up covered the body with a blank,t and locked herself up in her so-called room. Since the children had all fallen asleep on what you could call a bed, she made herself a comfy place to sleep right beside them on the floor. Before her eyes shut, she saw the time was six forty-seven, only one hundred and fifty-six hours to go.