Divided

Once again, I copied my older brother’s movements. And although the hallway had never seemed long,
tonight this journey felt endless. But worry must have made me careless, clumsy. Because foolishly, my
weight triggered the groan of aged wood, its sound slicing through the silence.
Our bodies froze. And for a second, hope withered within me just as fast as courage had been rallied.
Oh, God.
For in this house, disobedience was not a sin that was easily forgiven. In this house, my father’s words
were law. And at this corridor’s conclusion, beyond the cracked door, those words had just died.
We were so fucking dead.
Quietness surrounded us.
And for a moment, I thought that this was over before it had even begun. Derrick’s eyes shot daggers
back at me. However, I was spared his wrath as the conversation resumed, its sound allowing us to
breathe again.
Sorry, I mouthed, earning an eye-roll before he moved forward.
“Shh,” came Derrick’s urgent whisper as we crept past the twins’ room.
Small comatose figures, lost in dreams, remained huddled upon matching pink beds. And to the right of
us, the door that belonged to the youngest of my siblings remained blessedly closed. A small fissure
separated little Maxie from this world; a habit that misleadingly assured him of his safety.
We dropped down onto all fours, crouched into positions we had not enacted since grade school. Then,
at last, we came upon the edges of our parents’ bedroom door.
“Once again, you’re not hearing me, Samuel.”
As we shifted closer, a lean figure became visible pacing back and forth by the bed. It was only as the
candlelight’s flicker danced across her brown skin that Mama’s expression became clear.
And instantly, that dread once again began to sprout deep within my chest as doubt watered its roots.
Because I knew that this wasn’t good. That look on her face wasn’t one of blind faith that she normally
showed us, it was one of fear.
“What is it that I’m not getting, Jasmine? You tell me, what it is that you want me to do?” Dad asked, his
body bathed in the window’s moonlight; his blond hair like a beacon partially shielding his weary
expression.
“I want you to come to reality. Things aren’t getting better here!”
Their words sounded so familiar…
Dad snorted, his blue eyes shifting back to the view. “You think I don’t know that?”
“You certainly act like it. This is worse than when Travis was here. You heard Greg today. The
government is done! If those crazy fucks haven’t used bombs on what was there, what was left of the
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