• It's a conversation. A ridiculous one.
    I can hear it. Even upstairs, I can hear it. It's him. It's her. Then, him again.
    Their voices are low; they think I can't hear. No. I can hear.
    There's the crash, almost if by pattern. There's the screams, as if on cue. Then, there's the bang. It's the same.
    The thud sound comes quickly after.
    She did it again. This would be the fifth after Dad. I hear her heavy footsteps come up the stairs. She's tired, like always.
    But, this time, she doesn't go straight to her own room. She stops in front of mine; I see her shadow under the crack.
    The door creaks open and I'm blinded by light. I see her shadow.
    "You're still up." She approaches the bed. She reaches for the bear that I have dropped. She puts it on the bed. "Was it the screams?"
    "No. They aren't that bad." I'm lying. I reach for the bear and clutch it to my pounding chest. My heart is pounding. The gun is in her other hand. Her other hand is bloody; her forehead, her face, her hair...it's all red, not blond.
    She reaches for me with her bloodied hand. "I'll get you help...someday. I just can't find any money."
    I look up at her, my eyes darting from her drenched hair to her smiling eyes. She's still my mom, no matter what. "...Why don't you stop?"
    She smiles, for real, this time. She reaches for my arms. "Stop?"
    "Yes. You're killing people. God said-."
    "God? What God?"
    I stare at her. She was the one who taught me. "The One up there." I point upwards.
    "Oh. The One who takes care of the souls I send to Him?" She laughs a little. "Grow up, kid. Momma's working." She gets up.
    I can't sleep once she's gone. All I think about is that gun and those hands and that hypocritical face. Somehow, I want it to be gone.
    I get up. I want it to be gone; the gun, the face, the hands. I realize how much it had done to me. And, she continued it, because it was her job. What job? She was unemployed ever since I was born.
    I race to her room.
    She opens her door. "Katie, it's pass bed time."
    She's cleaned up, but the stench still wavers in the air.
    I dodge her and go straight to the bed; her gun was under that pillow.
    "Katie, what are you doing-?"
    I feel the cold metal. It's there. I reach for it.
    "Katie-!"
    "You never worked for anyone but yourself. You never even give me goodnight kisses anymore." She had already prepared it. "You don't even tell me goodnight. Ever since Daddy died."
    "Katie, put the gun down, now-!!!"
    "Well, goodnight, Momma." I put the gun to my head.