how many times is enough ? ( tw : child abuse )

the door creaked
like it always does
when she opens it in a hurry
when her face is wrong
when her voice is sharper
than anything in the kitchen

jazz said
“she’s doing it again.”

and i didn’t ask what she meant
because i knew.
you don’t forget something like that.

i didn’t see it this time
not at first.
i heard the burner click.
i heard the shuffle of shoes
and someone trying not to cry.

he didn’t scream.
he didn’t beg.
he just kept trying to pull away
quiet
like if he stayed still enough
it wouldn’t hurt.

and she kept saying
“where’s the twenty.”
like pain
makes paper show up.

and i remembered
my hand
years ago
the heat
the way she grabbed my wrist
and pushed
and pushed
until i could smell it
and all i could think was:
if i say i did it, will she let go?

and i said no.
just like him.
i didn’t take it.

and it didn’t matter.

she told us
“don’t say anything.”
“it stays in the house.”
she says that like
this place is a mouth
with teeth
that snap shut
on anything that tries to escape.

i don’t know
if he’ll call the cops.
he said he would.

i want him to.

i don’t know
if i’d be safe
if he did.

but i’m tired
of feeling the heat
even when the stove is off.