My stomach hurts

My stomach hurts. I tell Mommy, but she says to go shower and get ready for school. But my stomach hurts, and my throat. I shower anyway, and my throat feels better, warm and wet, not dry and hot. My stomach still hurts.

I tell Mum again, stepping carefully on the tiles of the kitchen so I don't break them like I did once before. They're an awful color, all blue green and puce striped. My stomahc hurts as I pull on my bookbag, full oif books and papers in proper orderk, so Mommy can check to see if I did my homework at Grammy's yesterday. Mommy doesn't trust me. I frown, and look down.

My head swims, bobbing in luke warm liquid and I slip, but I don't know on what. I want to scream, but Mommy would say to be quiet and get ready for school. My too-big hands come up too late, as the floor climbs slowly towards me, and my mouth hangs open, bubbloing out liquid with soft parts of my throat ripped out.

Daddy sees me, and his eyes bulge as my cheek hits the floor, a familiar smack of flesh that breaks a tile on the hallway puce striped floor.

Mommy, my stomach hurts...

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