• He came home drunk again last night, raging at us like we were nothing more than an annoyance that had never done anything right. Perhaps that's all we were. I held her in my arms as He shouted curses and threatened violence and I promised her everything would be all right. I lied through my teeth, but she listened and believed, because no one so innocent could possibly think there was a demon eating away at the souls of our once-happy family.

    I still remember when He loved us, when we and Mother were the greatest joy He could ever have imagined. He had a job, then, working at the plant. It didn't bring in a lot of extra money, but it was enough. We ate, we were clothed, and we were too delighted by life itself to care that in the eyes of the other kids at school, we were poor. It didn't matter to us, my sister and I, that the things we wore were often as not rescued from some Goodwill bin or that we didn't have the money to go to Disneyland over summer vacation.

    Then the economy collapsed, and the plant workers found themselves with nowhere to go but home to the consolation of alcohol and anger and rage. The cycle broke us, and we were left behind like so much refuse. Society forgot us, forgot the plant that was no more, forgot the people who had to scratch like chickens now to simply come up with a bit of food. And alcohol. We barely had enough to eat, even with the government checks, but somehow there was always money for beer and whiskey and whatever else took His mind off the failures.

    He still raged, a demon in a man's skin, beer-scented breath nearer our faces than we would have liked. The details of His threats were getting more distinct, and it was hard to believe that someone whose judgement was so clouded could think so clearly on matters of violence. She was out of my arms in an instant held aloft by that Devil-sent man. He said something softly in her ear, and she only cried all the louder.

    What did He say to you, my dear sister? Why did you leave me here alone?

    All I know was she left the next morning, telling me not to wait for her after school that afternoon. She said she would be home late, but as I watched the clock hands sweep around the face there was no welcome footsteps in the hall, only at quarter-past twelve the heavy thuds of a broken, drunken man.

    The ending of an age dashed us against the rocks of life harder than anyone should ever feel. First Mother disappeared from our lives. Then my sister, my single constant in this variable-filled world, was gone as well. And there was only I to wrestle with the demon I had been abandoned with. The door opened, and the bloodshot eyes of a man betrayed searched for the girl who was no more. I alone faced His wrath that night, and I dare say it is past time to quit this life I have.

    I hear the weather in Texas is nice.