Scent of Desperation *End*

Bobby Pendragon's adventures through the flumes toward another world came to an end as the bus reached my stop. I slowly gathered my things as my face turned redder than a cherry. I try to focus on something besides the looks crossing my path. I didn't wear the right clothes, I didn't have the right hair, I was an outsider. I finished my journey through Tumble Road and stepped off the bleak, rubber steps which was my serenity. The peace was gone.

It was so beautiful out, but not as beautiful as gum covered seats. There I was safe. Here, where the birds were singing, the sun smiling, I had no hideout here.

Maybe I could go for a walk. Press reality on pause, play a moment of fantasy. Escaping myself seemed like an intriguing idea. Just go across the road...and walk. It's not like my mother would care...she might even be grateful not to deal with me for a while.

I take a step. Nothing. Then another. Then another the--

"Where do you think you're going?" Great. So much for three times the charm.

"Out." I begin to take another chance to escape with a brisker pace, but once again reality plays. I wanted to fight for my remote control.

"Oh, no, you're not. Get in this house." She presses play for the final time. I eject the DVD on fantasy...maybe I could watch it later. As I walk in, I'm hit by a foul stench.

My mom doesn't clean, I have to. Although, most nights I'm so broken I just lay there in the middle of it all.

I start to clean before a hurricane huddles closer. It's not as bad as usual..but what's that stench?

"What's that smell?" I choose my words carefully, the women has a temper.

"Oh," The women that was my parental figure let out a gut wrenching burp before continuing. Ladylike. "I spilt milk on the chair a few hours ago. You can clean it up later."

Throwing the wrappers and beer bottles on the floor away, I hurried to my room. Eager to escape the wrath of my mother.

My four year old fantasy room. I was obsessed with Barbie and Dora at the time. My sheets had Dora's face on them. Dora and Boots smiled at me, as if they had something to smile about.

My mom walked into the room, her prescence made even Barbie's confident shoulders slouch. Oh, joy. I wait for the bomb to blow.

"It's your fault!" I knew what she was talking about. For years, she told me the same thing everyday. She blamed me because I survived the accident and dad didn't...I was in the car with him the day it happened. I saw him die.

"It wasn't." I knew what would come next.

"Everyday I have to stare in the eye what was his face! His eyes! I have to stare at death." With a scream, her hand swept across my face. Then, I screamed.

The burn of the sudden strike left behind a trail of evidence. It hurt, the tears were pouring. This made her angrier. This bomb was big enough to start a war...

The words formed in my mouth before I could stop them. "Why'd you do that?!"

"Because!" Tears were streaming from my mothers eyes. I didn't know how to stop them. I didn't know how to stop this..

I wondered if Dora could talk, would she defend me? Would she be frowning and violently cursing in Spanish? I would.

My mom left the room, but Barbie didn't prop herself back up. I wouldn't blame her after the scene she'd witnessed.



...........................
A slap in the face,
A punch in the chest,
A fall to the ground,
No one there,
To witness the sound,
No one to see,
The Scent of Desperation,
Covering my fresh layer,
Of blood, sweat, and tears.
............................





Together we can end the endless story of pain for these children. If you or someone you know is being abused, call the NSPCC. Say NO to Child Abuse.