The World Outside my Window

Title: The World Outside my Window
Rating: PG13
Summary: Seven Year old Pebbles tries to comprehend the day that changed her life.
Notes:
Warning(s): Viloence, Child Neglect, and Abuse
Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction. Not intended to represent any real persons, places, events, or things. This story is copyright Dawn Kelley and all rights to these characters belong to me.


Dreams sure had a funny way of coming true, seven year old Pebbles thought as she sat on the chair holding the gun that had finally stopped him. She tried to remember what had happened, but clear pictures eluded her. Mixed images of blood ran through her mind, her blood, her mom’s blood, and his blood. What was wrong with him? Pebbles wondered as she stared at Pinky laying on the floor.

Pebbles stared towards the window trying to straighten the events in her mind. The sun was rising again. How many times had it risen and fallen since that day, that horrible day?

She remembered awakening from a nightmare the morning of that horrible day. But it was more than a nightmare, it was a memory of his hands on her and whispered promises behind alcoholic breath. He smiled at her though yellow teeth while he fondled her young body. So use to the attentions of her mother’s pimp, she went numb in those moments, but the memories were torture.

She remembered awaking alone. It was not an odd occurrence; her mother didn’t spend a lot of time in the apartment. For her however, the apartment had been a seven year prison and most of her time was spent in solitary confinement. From the window she watched the world outside. She wanted to join the children headed to some unknown place beyond her point of view, but she was scared. All she had ever known was her prison, her mom and Pinky. Things looked pretty from the window, but were they really ugly on the outside.

When the world outside her window cease to be active, Pebbles went in search of food. She found some stale crackers for her breakfast. She tested the sink, but the water didn’t seem drinkable so she went without. The rest of her quiet morning was spent playing with some junk she used as toys. She kept them hidden away in a bucket. The bucket she used like a drum; she also had a set of mismatched forks and spoons that she used for various games and reed thing that made a funny noise when you blew in it. Taking a bath or getting dressed never occurred to her. She had had on the same dingy undershirt and sweatpants for days. Her hair was a mess and her skin was dirty, but she didn’t know these things were important.

Her mother stumbled through the door in the middle of one of her games. Pebbles jumped up and danced around her mother’s feet hoping for some attention. Then Pebbles looked into her eyes and realized she wasn’t with her, she wasn’t anywhere. She was high. She didn’t communicate with Pebbles at all, Except to push her out the way. She fell on the couch and completed her journey away from reality. Pebbles stared at her sadly, not knowing what was wrong, but knowing things shouldn’t be like this. She never felt like those kids in the world outside her window. Never got the kisses and hugs most got from their mother. Never laughed and played with the other kids. Never danced in the white stuff outside her window.

She got hits from her mother though, plenty of them, she thought as she rubbed a bruise on her arm. But that was Pinky’s fault. She had noticed that whenever Pinky got mad a mommy, mommy got mad at her. Pinky liked her, but thoughts of his callused hands made her feel all icky inside. He smiles scared her, but she didn’t want to make him mad. So she never resisted him. He told her she was special and sometimes bought her gifts. Gifts her mother destroyed. Once she had a doll. She cherished that doll and tried to hide it, but her mother found it and threw it away. That was Pinky’s fault to, he should have given her the magic medicine when she asked for it. She still had the bruise from that day to.

Pebbles curled up in a ball below her mother, who sat on the couch, and went to sleep. She slept soundly, with dreams of a better life, a better time, until he arrived. She awoke during Pinky and her mother’s argument. As usual Pinky used his fist to win the argument. The fist contained the same hand that had fondled her all these years. She felt as dirty inside as she was outside when she thought of it. Her mother’s cries pierced her ears and her heart as she watched their shared abuser rough the mother up.

Then she saw it, his gun. Somehow, his gun had fallen off of him during the tussle. She had only seen used a few times from her window. It was on of the more ugly things she had seen in that world outside her window. The gun seemed to invite her, despite how she had seen it used.

She didn’t remember picking it up, but she remembered the explosion in her hands. Despite her shock, she felt powerful at that moment. Powerful because, for once it was his blood being spilt. She didn’t know what, but something drove her to empty the gun in him after that first shot.

She expected praise of thanks from her mother, but she didn’t get it. Her reward was instead a slap to the face and a dozen profane names mixed in with words like “He loved me.”

Pebbles sat on the couch still grasping the gun while her mother walked though the house shouting and tossing a small amount of her worthless possessions into a bag. Then she was gone, leaving her little girl alone with the dead body and the gun. She grasped the gun knowing it had changed her life forever, but still hoping her mother would return.

Each time the sun and moon change places her hope dwindled away. Pebbles knew her mother had never been gone this long, even though she couldn’t count and had never seen a calendar. Slowly she let the gun slip from her fingers and walked towards the door.

She met the sun in the world outside her window and smiled. She was free, whatever happened she was free. Barefoot, she stepped down in the snow and danced with glee. For now, her nightmare was over.

In that small amount of time she wasn’t the victimized child or the juvenile delinquent she would soon become. In those few seconds she was simply free. The snow, though an amazing thing, chilled her toes. And so her future began with a knock on the door of the neighbor she had never met. Her freedom was over.

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