Feelings
by William Morgan
Mother lay in the kitchen, throat slashed. Father sat crumpled on the couch, his face barely recognizable from the blows of the baseball bat.
I felt nothing.
I always feel nothing. Dead inside. Empty. A wasteland of ruin.
My sister, Mary, comes home tonight. She’s pregnant, due next month. I anticipate her arrival by clenching the butcher knife, and promising cesarean. My younger brother, Johnny, will be with her. Sullen, disrespectful, a walking raging hormone who thinks he’s all that. I have a power drill and nail gun to prove him wrong
One way or another, dammit, I’m gonna feel something….
