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“No!” Mammy whisper-shouted hysterically, as bare-chested Eejit-Da raced across our bedroom toward us.
She didn’t scream. Maybe she should have, but having learned to be quiet for many abuse-filled years, it was a near-impossible habit to break.
Instead, Mammy rushed to get in front of me, her arms already swatting at his outreached hands that hadn’t even arrived yet.
How he heard us, or realized we were trying to escape, is a question I would never get answered.
His little beady eyes, without glasses, were full of rage that I had never witnessed before. His bare chest and round belly were sweaty, matted hair I’d never seen before. His pants were not even buttoned…
My stomach tightened painfully as he quietly snarled, “Get back in here.” Not being able to see us properly without his glasses made his attempts to grab us somewhat futile.
Not that this relieved any of our panic. Mammy’s cries were so sad as she smacked at his hands. She didn’t stop when he changed tactics and started pulling on the homemade rope.
As he gained traction, his gammy body still stronger than ours, my feet started getting dragged—and I was forced to step forward.
Eejit-Da was filled with outrage after Mammy bit at his hands holding on to the rope. He growled a muffled yell, then shoved Mammy with one hand. As soon as she started stumbling backward, his face lost all anger, and his expression filled with alarm.
Everything on his face showed instant regret—a monumental mistake made—so visible that even a child with barely any social skills could read his remorse.
Then, in a slow motion that I had never experienced before, I watched as Mammy’s unsteady feet let her body start to fall…
Heroic actions can’t be taught. They are a pure reaction and will of the heart. There was no thought that told me to reach out. My arm just soared into the air.
Mammy grabbed onto my hand, her weight quickly pulling me with her. My one hand holding the rope burned as my palm lost its firm grip, sliding down the wet material. But I refused to let go.
I couldn’t let go. Of her or the rope.
As her weight yanked me off the small roof, my hand tightened on the rope. That had my forearm taking the brunt of our mass at the edge of the roof. My malnourished—vitamin D deficient—bone didn’t have a chance. It snapped as if it were the smallest branch on the tree, sheltering our failing escape.
Keeping my promise to stay quiet, I swallowed the first painful scream I ever wanted to holler. Mammy instantly released my hand, to prevent me any more harm, but it was too late. My face grimaced, as the pain won… and I let go of the rope.
Momentum had my body twisting in the air. As it did, I had my second slow-motion experience. I watched the leaves drip water from above, as I fell—we fell—to the ground.
Mud splattered as I landed on my back, stunned at how hard the earth felt underneath me. Laying there in shock—completely overpowered by sensations all so new—raindrops forced me to blink so that I could see.
There was only one who could bring me any sort of solace, so blindly, the fingers of my right hand searched the sticky wet leaves and mud. A bare foot is what they felt, giving me the strength to roll over to see Mammy above my head. She was on her left side, not moving.
Not caring about the excruciating pain in my arm, my right hand gripped the wet dirt and I pulled, sliding my body toward Mammy. Rainwater slipped into my mouth. It was gaping, due to shortness of breath, terror, and fighting the need to scream. But I kept my promise.
Once to her side, I saw rain splattering in a red liquid. It was around her head, as that was the only part of her that had landed on the concrete Mammy called a driveway.
In blinding pain, I fell to my right, cradling my broken arm to my chest. Tears mixed in the rain as I stared at Mammy, my right hand reaching out for hers in front of her upper body.
As soon as she felt my touch, Mammy sucked in air and opened her eyes. “A stór.”
Trying to stay quiet, I whisper-cried, “Mammy.”
The hand holding mine dared to lift a pointing finger. “S-See the sky?”
It was dark and cold, and I was petrified, but I lifted my head to see the night sky, which was a light shade of grey due to the moonlight. “Y-Yes, M-Mammy.”
Her weakened hand, losing strength, squeezed mine. “N-Never… t-trust a-any… man… unless he has,” she swallowed, struggling to speak, “eyes t-that color.”
The Reaper does exist. I swear it. I felt him come. I felt him all around me and Mammy.
Hearing Eejit-Da running across the porch behind me, I cried. “Okay, Mammy.”
Arms that I couldn’t recall ever touching me, slid under my body, lifting me from the ground. My hand was pulled from hers as she told me, “I love you, Elleora.”
