Free Shut The Fuck Up And Die! by William Todd Rose

The moving shadow seemed to
quiver with nervous excitement, glancing over its shoulder every
few steps as if to ensure that some larger shadow wasn’t creeping
up behind it.
    A different voice in the darkness now. A
voice that cracked and broke beneath the strain of raging
hormones.
    “ Drink this . . . it’s good. Drink it
all, okay?”
    The shadow advanced in a series of abrupt
jerks, almost as if it were passing through a strobe light as dark
as the surroundings. One second it was ten feet away . . . the
next, six. Then three. Two. One . . . .
    A pockmarked face that looked like a
masculine version of her own floated so close that Mona could feel
the sharp gasps of air warm her cheek. Then sensations burst
through like rapid fire gunshots in the night: the smell of sweat
and garlic, hands fumbling and touching, pain exploding somewhere
between her legs before the numbing cloud washed over her again,
pulling her into a darkness much like the one she floated in
now.
    “ He’s a fucking gridiron hero, for
Christ’s sake! He could bang any cheerleader he wants? And you
really expect me to believe that a dirty piece of trash like your .
. . .”
    Mona felt as if she were collapsing into
herself, as if all of her molecules were being compressed into a
little ball of ice so dense that a black hole formed within her
soul. She kept expecting the sting from the back of his hand and
the black olive taste of blood trickling from her split and
throbbing lip. Coat hangers straightened into slender rods, the
studded belt wrapped snugly around a beefy fist, bottles of Mad Dog
that shattered like a cheap tiara, leaving her wondering how much
of the sticky liquid drenching her hair was blood and how much was
wine: these were expected, these were the norm, and no one gave a
damn about this quiet little girl who flinched at every loud noise
or sudden movement.
    Her father staggered in front of the creeping
shadow like a washed up actor who’d somehow stumbled into the glare
of a spotlight. His bloodshot eyes blazed over top a bulbous nose
webbed with thin, blue veins and his jowls flapped like a rabid
bulldog as the torrent of abuse flew like froth from his mouth.
    “ She’s just jealous, Dad. She’s makin’
shit up to try and get me in trouble. Why the hell would I drug my
own dawn sister? Who does that?”
    Mona wanted to scream at the top of her
lungs: I never said I was drugged! How did
you know I was drugged, Timmy? If you’re so fucking innocent, how
the hell did you know I was drugged ? But all that came
from her throat was a whimper so soft that it may have come from a
puppy wavering between life and death.
    “ None of the boys will touch her ‘cause
she smells like pee. Fifteen years old and still wetting the bed
like a little fucking baby. She wakes up early to do the laundry so
you won’t know, Dad. I’ve seen her do it.”
    A chorus of voices swirled in the darkness
around her, each one jabbing with the cruelty only adolescence can
foster.
    “ Outta my way, Urinal Cake!”
    “ Oh hell . . . here comes Pissin’ Mona
. . . .”
    ‘ S’up, Outhouse?”
    A school desk flashed into existence like a
brief crack of lightning, leaving the image of a plastic bag of
diapers perched atop her textbooks seared onto her retinas as
dozens of voices thundered with laughter.
    “ You lying sack of shit . . . is that
it? You trying to get your brother in trouble? Trying to make sure
he doesn’t get that scholarship because you’re so damn retarded.
Well, missy, maybe you need to be shown what it really feels like.”
    A pressure had built up somewhere within
Mona’s abdomen. It was almost as if her bladder were expanding like
a balloon; she could feel it swelling with warm liquid, the walls
stretching thin as it continued to grow. Only not quite. Something
was different this time. Almost as if the scream that had been
trapped inside her for so many years was submerged somewhere down
there: it burned like an ingot, the fierce