Yesterday I saved two empty milk bottles from the bin.
When Ma wasn’t looking, I filled them under the garden hose as quietly as I could.
One is never enough in this outback heat.
Doof.
That word makes me smile, the way it sounds when I say it out loud.
But I will definitely need to bring “doof.”
I scour the pantry to figure out which food, if any, Mum won’t need later.
There isn’t much in there to begin with.
Oats. Yuck.
An expired can of lentils. She might want those.
Crackers. Peanut butter. Half a jar left.
I pack them both. A spoon, too.
My dad loves peanut butter.
All the more reason to take it.
That wanker can buy some more.
I’m busting to take a leak, but that can wait for now.
Besides, the bathroom has a mirror.
And I don’t want to look at my reflection.
I already know it will be bad, I can feel it.
I’ve seen the blood on my pillow and shirt.
Last night’s fight was worse than usual.
I copped the brunt of it.
Trying to protect her, as always.
Walking down the hallway, I pause for a moment to watch my mother sleep.
I don’t want to make her feel sad.
I know this is going to break her heart.
I’ve begged her to come with me so many times.
But she never does.
And if she’s not gonna save me after sixteen years, I have to save myself.
Either that or turn out just like him.
