text: What do you want?!" She grabbed the collar of my tee shirt and yanked. The fabric burned my neck as she yanked back and forth. "I said what do you want?!" A smack to the back of my head. I felt as if the entire world had turned to look directly at me. I'd froze. Consumed by fear and crippled from the panic setting in. She looked down at me "You're stupid do you know that?" She glanced back to the young girl taking our order and spat out; "He'll have a kids meal, no toy" Again she grabbed my collar and dragged me over to a table in the corner. I climbed up onto the booth and with my hands in my lap stared at the table. I looked through the window and saw children playing in the jungle gym outside the restaurant. I hated them. I wanted them to fall and break their necks. They were happy and they had it easy I thought. Their parents all probably had real jobs at a library or a bank, or as schoolteachers and they probably went on vacations and had family pets. I looked on with anger and disgust. I hated them and I wanted to be one of them all at once. I would never amount to anything. I'd be just like my parents and I knew it. Her voice brought me back to the moment. "What is wrong with you? Why can't you just be normal?" I just stared back. I didn't have an answer. To this day I do not have the answer to this question. You'd think by now after years and years of hearing this same question I'd have an answer, even a made up one. But no, I've been answering the same way since I could speak. "I don't know" I managed to mutter. "Well figure it out, people think you're an idiot." I just stared at her. I felt guilt and shame. I wanted to die. I used to fantasize about some long lost family member coming to rescue me from this life and taking me to live with them where I fit in perfectly. Everyone loved me in these fantasies and they all treated me like a prince. There was always enough food and I had toys and video games to play with. Nobody ever took my game systems to the pawn shop and nobody ever hit me. When I said something even mildly funny people just laughed and laughed. I daydreamed often when I was younger. It was my escape. I often look back and wonder if it weren't for my day dreams what would have become of me, if I'd have been brave enough to take my life or if I'd have just had a nervous breakdown before even becoming a teenager. My fantasies were my safe place and nothing could take them from me. It wasn't until I was a teenager that I finally accepted that nobody was coming and it was just my destiny to be a loser that nobody liked and nobody wanted. From then on I fantasized about dying or being horribly injured instead. I ate my kids meal, I chewed every bite slowly and tried to savor it and remember the flavors. I liked the sour pickles mixing with the sweetness of the ketchup. I silently wondered what toy was supposed to come along with it. I looked around for other kids to maybe catch a glimpse of theirs but it was such a nice day that everyone was sitting outside. Again I watched the children playing and hoped for an accident. I wanted them to fall on their faces and knock their teeth out. I wanted them to fall and become paralyzed; they wouldn't have it so easy then. They'd be miserable like I am. "Why can't I have a toy?" I asked. "You don't deserve a toy, you don't even deserve a kids meal. You are lucky I got you that, any other mother would leave you at the firehouse." I ate silently. The smell of alcohol on her breath was sweet and potent. It mixed with the smell of my food and started to make me nauseous. I kept eating, knowing I'd be punished if I didn't finish. I forced the last few bites down and washed it down with a few gulps of coke. "I'm finished, can I go play?" "No. We're going home." "Please? Just for a minute" "What did I say?" We walked through the parking lot and I stole a few more glances at the children outside playing. I wished the jungle gym would collapse on them. I thought about what it would be like to be them but all I could do was picture myself in their clothes. Their lives seemed so far away from mine. Like they existed in another world or dimension and I could only look on and wonder. I hated them. They had everything. I wanted to be with them; for them to call me over and ask me to play. They never would. And so I hated them and told myself over and over how much I hated them to cope with the fact that I'd never be one of them. We got into her car. A small silver car that smelled like cigarettes and stale beer. The grey carpet was stained with black spots and cigarette burns. The air conditioner didn't work and the Texas heat had converted it to a convection oven. I sat up front and stared out the window as she drove. She drove too fast and she swerved I wasn't scared though I wanted us to crash. I wanted to get injured in a crash and for her to die. Everyone would feel bad for me then. They would come see me in the hospital and say how sorry they were that I'd been hurt and my mother had been killed. They'd bring gifts and food and they'd argue over who would adopt me and who could give me the best life. The car dipped and swerved and the heat inside was thick with moisture, the smell of rotten beer and cigarettes was overpowering. I could still taste the sour pickles and sweet ketchup and the soda that I'd used to force down the last bit of my kids meal. I was sweating. "Mom, I think I'm going to throw up" "You're fine we're almost home. Stop being a baby." The vomit was rising into my throat and I swallowed hard to pitch it back down. The car swerved. My sweat dripped. I tasted ketchup and pickles. I heaved and swallowed, this time some of the vomit made it past my esophagus and into my mouth. I swallowed it down. It came back up. This time onto my lap, the floor board, and some sprayed the dashboard. "Jesus H Christ!" She yelled. "What in the fuck is wrong with you?!" I stared at the puddle of vomit on my lap. I knew she was going to hit me. I braced for it. Nothing. "Hello? What the fuck?!" "I told you I felt sick" I said more stern than I'd intended. "You're like a fucking baby do you know that? A stupid baby!" I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. They were hot and burned but I didn't want to cry. "That's great, just fucking great!" "You're cleaning this shit up not me!" I rolled down the window. I cupped my hands and I started to scoop the vomit up and tried to throw it out the window. The wind caught most of it and it splattered the side of the car and the window. The tears were coming and I couldn't stop them. My lips trembled and I started to sob. "Wait until the car is stopped you idiot!" She yelled. My sobs came on stronger. "Wahhhh! Wahhhh!" She mocked me. Then it came. The back of her hand struck me in the face. Her knuckles caught me in the bottom lip. I could taste blood. Then I vomited. I was sobbing and choking and my eyes were blurry. I could hardly breathe. She slowed for a red light and continued mocking my sobs. "Wahhh! Wahhh! That's right cry you fucking baby." We were a couple of blocks from the apartment we lived in and all I wanted was to get out of the car. I hated her. I'd heard at school that most car accidents occurred just a few blocks from people's homes. I closed my eyes and wished and wished that we'd get hit by a bus or a semi. No such luck. We pulled into the assigned parking space we had at the apartment complex and I stepped out of the car. She stumbled out. I started walking towards the door to our apartment. "Don't even think about it." She snapped. "You aren't coming inside until that car is clean!" I looked down at my clothes covered in vomit. I was soaked in sweat and my face was burning where she hit me. I stood there awkwardly while she barged into the apartment. She came back a minute later with a bucket and a rag. She threw it at my feet and turned around and disappeared into the apartment again. She said nothing this time. I picked up the bucket and walked to the side of our building where there was a spigot. I filled the bucket almost half way and walked to the car. I started scrubbing the outside of the car first. The vomit had congealed and hardened to the side of the car and I had to scrub hard to get it off. After it was clean I opened the passenger door and started removing the puddle of vomit with my cupped hands again. I just dropped it into a puddle right there in the parking lot. The afternoon sun was beating down on me. My face stopped burning but my lips were fat like I'd been stung by a bee. I was drenched with sweat and the acrid smell of my own vomit burned my nostrils. I finished cleaning the inside of the car just as the sun started setting. I went inside and jumped in the shower with all my clothes on to rinse the vomit off of them. I stripped down in the shower and threw the wet clothing into the sink. After finishing up in the shower I put on fresh clothes and hung the wet ones to dry outside. My mother was snoring on the couch and an almost empty bottle of vodka sat on the coffee table. I knew she'd be asleep for the night. I walked over to her and with my fingers I made a gun, I pointed it at her head and made a shooting motion. I shot her twice with the finger gun to make sure she was dead. I grabbed the bottle of vodka and took a deep pull. It was hot going down my throat and into my stomach. The warm sensation crept from my stomach to the tips of my fingers and toes, it felt good. It permeated my whole being and it was like I could breathe for the first time. I had the sensation of relief I'd come to know and love over the last two years, since I'd stolen a couple of wine coolers from a friends mom. The vodka though was quicker and more intense. Instant relief. As soon as I put my hands on a bottle of liquor I'd found a sense of hope in this world. I remember thinking to myself "why doesn't everyone do this all the time?" And I decided that's exactly what I'd try to do. I took another couple of pulls from the bottle and stole two Marlboro reds from her pack. I went to our front porch and lit the first one. I took long pulls from the cigarette and held them in as long as I could. It seemed to intensify the effects of the vodka that were coming on strong now. I was dizzy and tired but I felt happy. Like the world was ok right now here in this moment. I stared up at the stars and lit the second cigarette. This one I smoked slowly and tried to see which way of smoking it looked cooler. I watched myself in the reflection of the front porch window as I took a drag and blew it out. I tried different ways of holding it and bringing it to my mouth. I squinted my eyes and exhaled large plumes of smoke. When it was gone I went inside and took one last pull of vodka, being careful not to take too much. I stumbled to my room and laid in my bed. I had the spins and I just enjoyed them and wished they'd last forever. As I was falling asleep I thought to myself "just 8 more years of this and I'm out of here" and as that thought crossed my mind I mused that my 10th birthday wasn't so bad after all. I said "happy birthday to me" and still had a smile on my face as I drifted off to sleep.