Ruthie

This is a short (666 word) story that I literally just whipped out but I am quite pleased with it. I hope you get a clear enough picture of Ruthie, as I see her in my head. I had actually started this story out with a different sort of twist... it morphed.

“Ruthanne, open your eyes.”
“But it is easier to feel the music if they are closed.”

“There is no music. The only sound is of the others down the hall. Open them.”

“You don’t hear it because your eyes are open. It’s pretty.”

“There is no music and we need to have a talk, which would be easier if I knew you were looking at me.”

“Fine, it stopped anyways because you won’t be quiet. What is it?”

“Ruthie, do you know why you are here?”

“My mom sent me. She says I will feel better soon and come back home.”

“You aren’t going home. That is just no longer a possibility for you. Do you understand why that is?”

“No, my mom said I could come back. I am her child, not yours. If she wants me back she can take me back.”

“I am afraid it is not that simple, Ruthanne. Do you remember what happened the night you were brought here?”

“Sure. I was upset because mommy wouldn’t allow me a second piece of cake even though it was my birthday. I had picked out the My Little Pony’s theme, you know that? Someday I’ want to have a pony.”

“What happened when you were upset?”

“I--  I, uh, I think I knocked my cake to the floor. Oh, no! Is my mom still upset about that? I ruined that nice cake. Can I apologize to her? I can call her right?”

“Maybe you can make a call later. Let’s finish our talk.”

“She must be so upset with me.”

“Ruthie, what happened after you knocked the cake down, do you recall?”

“I was so mad at my mom. It was my seventeenth birthday, and I had been good all day, and I had picked up my room, and I had picked out the cake! It was my cake. She never liked me, my mom. I am different than precious Kristine and different wasn’t good enough.”

“Different isn’t always bad. What happened after the cake fell?”

“I think my mom bent to clean up the mess. She was yelling something at me, you know, I don’t even remember what but I was still so mad.”

“Ruthie did you do anything after that, before the police came?”

“I called the police. I remembered to dial 9-1-1 just like mom had shown me. When I saw mommy laying on the floor with all that blood around her I just knew I had to call the ambulance. Is that why I can’t go home, because she is in the hospital?”

“Do you remember how your mom started bleeding?”

“She was yelling those things at me and I saw the knives on the counter in their wooden thing. I am not supposed to touch the knives, you know. You have to be very super careful.”

“Yes, you should be very careful with sharp things. Good job. When you saw the knives what did you do?”

“I grabbed one and I made mom stop yelling at me, of course. It wasn’t easy. The cat seemed to shut up a lot faster when I did it to him. Maybe because moms bigger.”

“How did you make your mother stop yelling?”

“That is a silly question, you know that?”

“Why is that silly?”

“I can tell by the way you look at me that you know how I made her stop.”

“But will you tell me, anyways?”

“I took the knife and put the sharp side under her chin and sawed back and forth, back and forth, until she stopped yelling. She couldn’t tell me ‘no’ then, could she?”

“Do you realize what happens when you cut someone’s throat, Ruthie?”

“She stops yelling. That’s what I am telling you, you know.”

“After that,”

“They die. So, when can I call my mom?”

“When you cut your mothers throat she died. Do you understand what that means?”

“She stopped breathing.”

“Yes, and if we don’t breathe what happens?”

“We die?”