"Leave me alone!" She shouts her voice is a sickening mix of anger and fear. 

        He is nothing but a shadow as he throws her to the ground like a rag doll. The wood shakes in resistance. Except that you can never truly resist darkness. It's around every corner. So the floor is overpowered and beat into submission by her anaconda body. His big shadow hands wrap around her neck as he chokes her. Her lungs were always undeserving of air in his mind. His dark mind. His abused mind. His twisted mind. The blackness swallows him whole and dissolves his skin. All that is left is bones and rage.

       "You're nothing. You're a weirdo, a wench, a fat sloth, you're worthless," his gravely voice attacks her from all sides. It gladly pierces her scaly skin and heart. The shadow starts to seep from his fingertips and into her bones. 

       She grips at his hands with a cocktail of emotion. Her tail flicks and kicks fruitlessly at his transparent body. He is trained to kill. She'll never win. He'll never let her. He raises his fist to deliver a murderous blow and holds it there. He wants her to know she is powerless, because she is. He needs to feel her submission. He doesn't. 

       Mom rushes to his aid only, begging for him to stop. He shouldn't do that to a child. Her child. Except for she doesn't care. Not really. She just wants her own happiness. I want it for her too. Which makes this so painful. Because she wants them both. She cannot have them both. 

       He stays rigid, fist loaded and ready to fire. His darkness suffocates us all, the shadows consume us too. Mom doesn't fight them. After living in her fathers shadow. She does not recognize that it's not welcome in this home. In her home. 

       "I'll murder a kid in this basement," he tells her. The words hang over her head and then fall, slaying her and myself both. He rises after throwing down a few more insults. He is not satisfied with his work. He is trained to kill. He just might. He wishes to taint all of her and spill her blood on the floor. What a nice contrast it would make to the wood. 

       He is not done yet. His work was interrupted. He wants to come back. He needs to. He wants the last words. He wants her fear. He craves her death. He walks only a few more steps away before hearing her cry out in a viscous pain. He pushes me aside as though a rag doll, and much like one I slam into a dresser. As useless as always. As stupid as always. As weak as always. 

       "Tell that bitch to give me my phone," his parting words are sharp and dark. The black seeps into my bones and I too am a shadow, wishing to cause pain. 

       She slithers into a corner when he is gone and lashes out at all near "I don't deserve this," she hisses and we all pale. Does she not? My mom is not too sure. Neither am I. She likes to fight. But only when she is winning. She cannot win against him. This makes me fearful. I am a coward. I am a dud. I am a wench. I am a weirdo. I am a fat sloth. I am what he calls her. I absorb her pain. Yet she doesn't want me to. She rips it away and leave me empty. I wish I could stay empty. 

         Best to ignore the bleakness of the room. There are no shadows in here now. Not if you close your eyes. Then you can't see them. Can't see anything. Best not to see anything. Best not to do anything. Best to hold your breath and not breathe in the darkness. Best to suffocate. The stains of his anger don't affect her. How could she not see it? Her glass eyes are glazed over and artificial. Her real eyes were taken from her in childhood. She couldn't stand the black hungry beast in her home. Best not to see him. Best to suffocate. 

       The snake coils up and then strikes. Her fangs manage to catch us both. It renders us useless. Both done for. Both unmoving. Not wanting to fight her. Her body is bruised enough. Broken too much. Mended so many times, the cracks let everything through. 

       "You need to calm down," mom politely says, in a voice that is all ice. She does not care. Not really. 

        I do not hold the same restraint "Calm the fuck down!" The sound of her hisses and whimpers anger me. She did this. She always does this. She tears this family apart. How selfish and inconsiderate. Many are victims of her massive coiling body and razor fangs. 

         She only attacks me back. Mom too sides with her, for what seems like the first time. I do not mind as long as they are fighting together, even if it's at me. 

       The glass doll and I leave the snake to her own devices. But not really. We stay near and watch for the shadow, afraid of him lurking in the corners. Afraid he will come back and finish the job. He doesn't. We are all alone.

       The doll soon leaves to aid the shadow. She refuses to shatter under his force. His hungry fangs bite into her neck and she pretends she invited him. Ask him to take more from her body. I look away. Best not to see. Best to suffocate. 

        I am a storm. My body is raging and silent. I do not wish to release the darkness in me. But then I do. She ask me what I would do. And then attacks me. I tell her a divorce. She is angry. She still loves him. She chooses him. She tells me she wants them both. I shatter and rebuild myself. I don't want either. 

        The shadow tethers itself to me. It pulls me to the ledge of a pedi stool built from its own two claws. It grows the stool higher and higher. It sets unrealistic expectations. It tells me I failed. Still tethered it pushes me to the ledge. I fight and scream but I can't win. It won't let me win. I fall and hang. My neck still intact I look at the unmoving ground below me. I could escape. I'm never left without an escape. I don't want to. I can't breath. The shadow is like a rope around my neck. The pocket knife in my hand drops along with my eyelids. Best to not see. Best to suffocate. So

I do.