The Child with Old Eyes

The small girl with her curly blonde hair was balled up under her bed. Her teenage brothers deep voice boomed through the house as he scolded his mother and sister. He was the man of the house. The father of the three children had died a year ago, when he Over dosed on meth.


The muffled voice couldn't be understood from under the eight year olds bed, the pink skirt like a fortress, protecting her from the cold cruel world the lurked beyond the thin fabric.

Soon the voices ceased- Obviously the drugs had kicked in. The girl rolled out from her pink fortress with no hesitation, knowing what she had to do perfectly, routinely. She opened her door which read "Ana" in pink Calligraphy, then closed it quietly. outside her room tables were over turned, glasses broken, needles on the run down beige carpet and mirrors and razorblades set carelessly on the beaten side tables. The finishing touch to the redecorating was her three heavily sedated family members laying around the house. She heard a burly voice say.
"Anastazia.....Your Hair!"
Her brothers hand reached up and tugged on one of her delicate curls, and let it bounce back into place.

His eyes were blood shot, his hands shaky, and his generally slicked back blond hair was hanging in his face. his neat demeanor had been wiped away by a high he craved in every sober moment. His white sleeve was rolled up, little needle marks in the bend on his elbow.

Anastazia, because she was distracted, stepped on his used needle. she quickly shook it off, and picked it up. she started to pick things up slowly. She didn't move quickly because it was dark-late. Almost 2 AM now. she looked at the couch with her mother and sister on it. Janice and Meri. Mer i with curly blonde hair to match Anastazia's, and Janice the mother of the blondes, with limp black hair that was thin and dead. Both females were scrawny, Bags of bones, their minds destroyed my drugs and abuse, their bodies ravaged by the same. Both had a crusting around their nose, black rings around their weary eyes, and almost a deathly look to them.

Anastazia cleaned up the house and was done by 4 AM. she helped all three into their beds- she knew they wouldn't wake in time to take her to school- or to see she didn't go. The young girl closed her door, and locked it. she climbed under her comforter-The pink barbie family on it smiled so wide, anastazia was sure every time she saw it that they were on some type of drug. She closed her tired eyes, eyes that had seen so much, handled so much that they couldn't possibly be an 8-year-olds- they seemed to be of a fretful old women. She didn't ever get to go play, she never went to school. She read from her text books when she wasn't cooking, cleaning, or baby sitting- the child inside her had died long ago.

Anastazia;s mother didn't have to work, because she got a check for $3,ooo a month for being a widow- And yet, they had barely any food. it was either spent on drugs or on clothes for meri and Janice- sometime her older brother scott.

Anastazia woke up to a silent house. she slipped out of her bed, her pink night gown twisted around her. She had dreamt of daddy again , which was bitter sweet. She wiped her her big cheeks of tears- she hadn't quite grown into them yet. She walked out of her room into the house. Ever since daddy had died, the house felt dead. Anastazia didn't know why, or what made it feel like this. maybe it was her brothers explosive anger. Maybe it was her sisters decaying body, she was so sickly. What ever killed the house was killing everyone else inside it too- And that scared Anastazia.

The small girl went to the refrigerator to see if they had any food. Curdled milk, which Anastazia threw away, and a bottle of ketchup. She sighed, and looked under the sink. A pie tin was taped to the bottom, and she carefully loosened it. There were 2 nickels and a used needle inside. Not nearly enough for food. She sighed lightly and simply went back to sleep, hoping to sleep away the hunger.

This happened every night. every night Scott would Howl and Scream, Hit and throw, His anger lashing out at anything and everything. Every night they would all shoot up, or snort away all the sorrow and aggression, and every night Anastazia would whisper through the house, putting it back together to only be ripped apart again the next night- with no anger or hate, simply love for those who she picked up. She would look for food- and if there wasn't any, she would simply go to sleep, to be awaken by the muffled yells from the angry being that was Scott.

"Why is there never any god damned food in this Hell Hole?"

Woke Anastazia from her light slumber. Scott had awoken early, it was only 3 PM- and he was furious.

She stood and loekd at her door. Should she go take care of it? No one else would. So, the ever-so-brave eight year old silently went out her door, to find scot shooting up already. Janice and Meri were peeking out their doors like children, acting more childish then the actual child. She looked at Scott, then at the fridge.
"We could go buy food."

By then Scott's eyes had drooped. This ment the other females could come out and play- and they seemed almost giddy. Scott had started the festivities early. Soon they had a mirror and a razor, a thin straw at their nose's in less then 10 minutes. They snorted the day away, and more just kept coming. More powder, more snorting, more giggling. Meri's giggles went from happy to nervous, her eyes getting wider and wider. She started to convulse and shake- her eyes drooping and closing.

Anastazia scurried into her room, not knowing what this was. She thought it was just another bad trip. They happened every now and then. She fell asleep, waiting for this bad dream to come to an end- and yet it never did.

Anastazia started to drift and woke to sirens and Scott yelling out random obscenities. She peeked her head out to see two stretchers with two bodies, heads covered in the white sheet. They were bather in the red swirling lights from the ambulance- The windows were wide open, the neighborhood looking into their small home. The lights swirled, Scott yelled, The paramedics walkee Talkee's spoke of death, and now the house wasn't dead, but decaying. bugs munched at its flesh, and its brittle bones were cracking under the pressure of the event. Anastazia felt her head spinning and fell to the floor of her bedroom, passed out, head swimming, ears buzzing with,
"We have a 5150 in the LZ district..."
and Scotts hoarse voice chanting..
"No...No...No..."

When anastazia woke up, Scott was sitting in her room, staring at her. his eyes hollow, his voice weak, but his body language seemed strong- fake.
"So i guess its only you and me now, kid."
"You and me..."
She echoed, just as hollow as the man before her. her eyes were larege and watery.

Scot sighed and looked at his arm. The scared tissue made his addiction obvious. He got up and looked at the child. His eyes were sad, angry- confused? Maybe even regretful. He left the room, And if the girl had known she'd never seen him again, then maybe she would have said good bye.

Anastazia stood and looked in her mirror. He frail hungry body screamed sickly. She looked like her sister, her rotting sister.

"They're dead."

Her voice distant even to her own ears as she tried to convince herself of the obvious.

"They're Dead.
They're DEAD!"

She started to scream. She watched herself, she watched her emotion as she screamed to nothing. The house was silent as she ceased her speaking. She turned away from the mirror, no longer wishing to see the girl who was a whisper away from death. She walked out her door to see her brother body do limp, the noose around his neck doing its job. The draft from the open window made his body sway lightly in the wind, and for the firs time in a long time, he looked happy.

Anastazia closed her eyes and walked past, hands out so she wouldn't hurt herself. She stubbed her toe on another used needle, and she looked down. A large rubber band and many needles ready of heroine. Fury filled her small body, unadulterated fury, animosity, rage, and almost hellfire. What was so appealing, what made it worth their lives?! without thinking, she tied the rubber band around her small arm as she had seen Scott do it oh so many time. She looked at the crusty, bent needle, full of the thing that had killed her father, mother, sister, brother... Drugs, heroine, cocaine,- its all the same. The liquid taunted her,

"I'm better then you!"

It cried in her mind. She thrust it into her skin, and felt the pinch of her skin allowing the foreign object in. she felt the liquid flood her innocent veins, tainting them. She smiled and sat, watching her brothers body pleasantly sway in the wind.