Conversations About Witches
I’m 18 years old. Dad’s angry again. A dish whizzes by my head with no warning, no expletives and I duck just in time. Saving yourself requires more these days.
But I can’t stay awake and I fall asleep and dream of the man in black, who is always waiting for me in the dark. I run from him, but I can’t seem to move my legs and my screams are never heard. He always hurts those I love. I watch in horror knowing that I am saved for last. It is not safe in the waking or sleeping hours.
“But you paid for the others’ schooling.” So I worked. And on the coldest day of the decade, you refused to drive me “all the way downtown!” to work and dropped me at the train because my car froze.