Lost - By Nadia Simonenko Page 0,1

away from the door. In the end, my cowardice wins the battle and I turn away

My entire room shakes as Dad slams her against the door, and I nearly leap into the air. A framed photograph falls off the wall and its glass shatters as it strikes the ground. It’s our family photo from ten years ago; we were all smiling back then.

I can hear Samantha’s terrified whimper just outside my door, and my legs begin to shake. I’m such a fucking coward.

I have to protect her.

I open the door just in time to see my father’s outstretched arm and my little sister tumbling down the stairs.

Samantha crashes into the wall at the middle landing with a terrifying thud, her neck contorted in an impossible way and her gray eyes staring blankly up at me.

The world freezes around me as I stare back into her empty eyes, and everything is strangely silent.

I’ve failed her. I’ve failed her in the worst way I possibly could have.

My father’s face is as white as a sheet as he looks down at what he’s done, and I shove past him and race down the stairs.

“She fell, Owen,” he calls after me. “It ain’t what it looks like.”

I don’t care what his excuse is this time; my sister isn’t breathing. I can’t tell if my heart is sinking into my stomach or if my stomach is rising into my chest. I feel like I’m going to throw up.

“Owen Maxwell, you come back up here and...”

I ignore him and race for the telephone in the kitchen. I have to call 9-1-1.

The phone is nowhere to be found, and I hear the thud of his boots coming slowly down the stairs after me. I shove papers off the kitchen table, knock over a vase by the sink as I push aside all the clutter and broken dishes, and then I finally see it lying on the floor next to an overturned chair.

I pick it up and just as I start to dial, Dad’s fist connects with the side of my head.

I hit my head on a chair as I collapse to the ground. I’m dizzy and my vision goes almost entirely black except for a few strange, floating blue spots. He grabs the phone out of my hand, and as I try to get back up, he kicks me hard in the chest and knocks the wind out of me. I can’t breathe, and I feel like I’m going to pass out.

I hear him dialing a number above me as the toe of his boot catches me squarely in the ribs again. Somehow, I barely notice the blow this time. Maybe I’m too far-gone already.

“Hi Betty. Sheriff please,” he says in a shaky voice. He steps over me and starts to straighten up the kitchen. He sets the chair upright as on-hold music blares through the receiver, and even from down here I can smell the alcohol oozing from his pores.

“Hi, Bill? Yeah, it’s Todd. I need you to send someone over here with an ambulance. Samantha fell down the stairs. Please hurry!”

He’s so good at putting on an act when anyone else is around; it’s only his family that sees the other side of him.

“Thanks Bill. I really appreciate it,” he says with a tone of terrified concern, and I almost believe him for a second. My belief shatters instantly as he hangs up and shoots me an ice-cold glare.

“Don’t you ever tell the town about our dirty laundry like you were gonna, you hear me boy?” he snarls, and he kicks me again for good measure. “Now get the fuck up and help me clean up this mess.”

I continue to lay motionless on the floor. A strange chill is spreading down my body, and I can’t be bothered to listen to him anymore.

“God, please take me away from here.”

His boot connects with my stomach, and I gasp as he knocks the wind out of me again. I close my eyes and brace myself for the next blow.

“You heard me, you stupid shit! Get up!”

He kicks me again and again, and I don’t care about the pain anymore. It doesn’t matter. None of this matters.

The only thing that mattered to me is lying dead at the bottom of the stairs.

Seven Years Later...

Friday, February 15 – 9:48 AM

Maria

My breath forms a thick white cloud in front of my face, and I shift my weight from leg to leg awkwardly as I wait at the top of the