Take Me Back

• Nathan Beaton, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2018

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
Suddenly my skin tingles radiating throughout my entire body, leaving tiny little bumps all over my toned skin. I feel a firm yet comforting clutch on my wrist. My mother holds me silently whispering; “I’ll always be here Ben, I’ll always be here”.
A single droplet of water runs down my face like a slug frantically gliding away from its predator. I sit with Mum and my baby brother Anthony, as my knees painfully scrape against the rough sisal carpet. In agony we wait for the departure of the social workers lurking behind the entrance door; they want to take myself and Anthony away, they want to pull us from everything we adore. Under the table where I would pierce my yellow teeth into an overcooked kangaroo, memories begin to brighten, slowly I remember the fresh water of lake Awoonga spray upon the tender pours of my indigenous face. Mum and I one after enough bespattering each other, allowing laughter to emerge from our aching throats. Though the other day I found myself controlled by anger, letting words of jealousy leave my subconscious in a devilish manner. Back and forward mum and I would use our harsh voices to express our compressed feelings. Neither one of us has apologized yet, but soon I will release those jailed words. Whispers pass like burning oxygen, the echoing sound of footsteps sharpen like knifes. Breathing has abruptly become a life-threatening act. Suddenly my heart drops. The sound of a black natured nightmare screeches out in the corporeal presence of a small child crying. If the two men who loiter outside hear Anthony’s weeping, it could mean the end. So, I expeditiously allow air to penetrate my nostrils, but just as I raise my right leg in a timorous motion and bring it in contact with the ground, I feel a harsh grip on my wrist and this time it wasn’t the comforting clutch from mum.
“You’re coming with us.”
I am numb. Every ounce of sensation flushed from my body in a rush that leaves me dizzy. The beat of my heart halts for the briefest moment, before racing like a startled rabbit. I walk like an automaton, my neck tightens around my throat as one of the men squeezes firmly, getting tighter with every footstep. I fall to the ground from a harsh push, with my face skimming the concrete, leaving a burning sensation on the edge of my cheek. One at a time the metal like boots of the social workers jab into the sides of my stomach as if I am being nailed into a brick wall, granting a mass of red liquid to be released from my esophagus. As I lay here my thoughts begin to gather as I recall my last conversation with Mum of me screaming, letting out my oppressed thoughts. I also realize that I never got to apologies, and those jailed words will never be released.