Can I please get some sleep?

“How are you doing today Michael?” asked Dr. Phillips.

Michael let out a long sigh and stared at the tiny hands circling the clock on the neighboring coffee table while sinking into the soft green cushions beneath him.

“Tired. I still can’t get no sleep at night doc. It’s driving me crazy.” His elbow positioned against the arm of the sofa with his hand pressed against the side of his head concentrating on the lamp. He loved the dim lighting that Dr. Phillips kept in her room. Bright lights have bothered him since that day.

“Is the medicine helping?” she asked.

“It helps for a little bit but as soon as my eyes close, man…I seen it happening like it did that night. I just need it out of my head. I want it out of my head already. When will it ever end?”

After an hour-long session, Dr. Phillips turned to Michael and said, “You call me if you need anything ok?”

He began seeing her a few months ago after he moved. After he finally admitted to himself that he needed help. Help that he avoided for years. He scheduled his next appointment with Monica, Dr. Phillips’s assistant. Monica always made sure to smile and that for him made the office a warm and welcoming environment. The uneasiness he felt prior to each appointment remained at the door whenever Monica greeted him.

Michael got into his 1998 gray Honda Accord and with the sun ray’s shining through the windscreen, he quickly put on his shades. It was 1:00 pm on his day off and the idea of taking a nap and watching the game caught his interest. How about a quick stop at the corner store before he turned into his street? A cold Budweiser was calling out to him.

He grabbed a beer out the 6 pack and kicked off his boots as soon as he got home. The Atlanta Hawks were playing the Boston Celtics with the Hawks up by ten points in the second quarter. C’mon man, you guys bouta let the Hawks beat you gain. Man Please! His fingernails pressed under the lip of the cap forced the can open from which tiny drops of liquid escaped, some of which caressed his hand. He took a huge gulp, sat back in his recliner and turned on the massage feature setting it to fifteen minutes with a concentration on the lower back. Before he knew it, he was drifting to sleep. After a restless night, his body knew exactly what it needed.

Michael was in his eight-year-old body.

“Now Mickey, you best stay in this bed you hear. Don’t be coming out here and try to get into my room. Momma got company and it's no place for a child to be. You hear me?”

“Yes momma.”

“Now go ahead and get you some shut eye,” as she kissed him on the forehead and covered him with his blanket. “Momma will see you in the morning alright? Goodnight and don’t be up making no noise either!”

“Yes momma.”

Then she shut the light off and closed the door behind her.

There was a man’s voice that joined momma’s. Momma was all giggly and probably having a few drinks with her man friend. Michael turned over to his side. He pictured the warm buttery pancakes filled with syrup that momma had promised him before his eyes closed.

A loud boom caused Michael’s body to jerk. He sat up immediately, slightly disoriented while his eyes adjusted to the darkness. A streak of bold light quickly followed. What was that? When it happened the second time a few seconds later, he knew exactly what it was. The rain lashed at the window and tap danced on the shutters while the wind howled like a wolf outside. He tried to fall asleep again, but even with the blanket over his head, it didn't stop the sound. Just breathe slowly he thought. Beads of sweat dripped down his back and neck. He couldn’t hear any voices or movement in the house. Momma did say to stay in bed. He didn't want to be alone. She wouldn’t even know he was there.

He grabbed his superman blanket, held on to it with his left hand while it dragged behind him. On tippy toes, he crossed the carpeted floor, closing his eyes after every thunder roll and lightning strike. Her room was not too far away. Shallow footsteps were heard and Michael hid around the corner. Momma’s friend, a tall, medium built man, shirtless and wearing shorts walked out of the bedroom and into the hallway bathroom. Michael picked up his blanket and ran into momma’s room. His eyes scanned the room for any movement. A figure resembling momma was on the bed. Footsteps were coming towards him and moving as quickly as he could, he rushed into the closet, closing the door behind him. It was a close call. He had a difficult time getting his blanket inside.

Momma’s friend returned to the room, every lightning strike illuminated a strip of skin across his back revealing bits and pieces of the lion tattoo that he had close to his left shoulder. He looked over at his momma who laid motionless on the bed through the tiny holes in the closet door. Michael did not understand how momma could still sleep through all of the noise. The darkness in the room engulfed the entire space, lurking behind the bedroom walls and he was glad that he was no longer alone.

Something didn’t seem right about momma’s friend. He straddled her body and remained motionless, his face tilted down towards her. Michael watched as he pulled something out of the nearby draw, held it over his head and drove it directly into his momma’s skull. Momma moved, her hands went up. He pushed it back, lifted her head and hit it against the back of the bed. There was a thump and momma was again motionless. Michael gasped and took a step back. Something dripped from her head into her satin night gown soaking it along with the sheets. A pool of dark red liquid shone through the lightning strikes. Michael couldn’t move. He bit down on his blanket and almost caught his tongue between his teeth while his eyes remained locked on momma’s body. Goose bumps appeared on his skin as a warm liquid flowed down his legs against his cotton ninja turtle pajama pants.

The man’s arm muscles tensed while he swung them with what now looked like a knife directly into momma’s chest. Again, and again. So much force and precision with every downward placement. His breathing was loud but deep and often interrupted with panting. Michael’s jaw opened. He knew better than to let anything out. Instead, he placed his shaky hand over his mouth while his fingers curled tightly around his blanket. To Michael this vicious act went on for a long time. Blood flowed everywhere and shiny dark specks could be seen on the wall, the sheets and on momma. The man stopped when the knife was stuck in momma’s skull. His body leaned back and with both hands wrapped around it, he pulled until it loosened. The man’s hair laid flat on his head as if he had gotten wet in the rain. There was a glow enveloping his skin with strips of red as light shone through the window. He hopped off the bed and Michael squeezed his eyes shut while his body continued to tremble.

The bedroom door opened and slammed shut. Michael opened his eyes. No one else was there besides momma and him. Michael finally let go of his blanket and tears flowed down his face, making it hard to keep his eyes open. Is the man gone? He needed to be sure and resisted the urge to run to his momma. Was that a car that he heard leaving? He couldn’t resist any longer and headed straight to momma. His feet glided across her growing pool of blood on the floor. He jumped on the bed.

“Momma, Momma,” He screamed between the sobs. He tapped her arms over and over again. She did not move. Momma was badly hurt. Even though it tore him to leave her, he knew that he had to get help.

Michael picked up the phone like momma taught him and dialed 911 but there was no ring tone. He continued to yell

“Momma, Momma. Wake up.” While he wrapped his tiny body around her. Her blood stained the fibers of his pajamas. It was all over him.

He knew that he had to be brave as it was still storming outside. He needed to face his fears. He opened the front door and let himself out. It rained so hard that he could barely see. He knew that Mr. and Mrs. Jones were sweet neighbors that lived across the street. Without shoes, he ran through the muddy grass and into the puddles, almost getting hit by a pickup truck coming down the street. The bright lights frightened him. He came in from the back of their house, walking on numerous pears on the ground when a small vine grabbed one of his feet. He clung to the pear tree to regain his balance. Their front door was just a few feet away. Once he stepped on the porch, he banged as loud as he could. His breaths were quick and he leaned over in an attempt to catch it.

“Momma needs help.” He screamed, kicking at the door while the rain swiftly replaced the tears on his face. The heartbeat in his chest became stronger and his legs buckled at the knees.

The porch lights came on and Mr. Jones walked out.

“Mickey, what happened?” he said as he noticed the blood stains on his pajamas and the frightened look on the boy’s face. He carried Michael inside the home. The only thing he repeated was that momma needed help.

*****

Michael’s eye lids sprung open and he jumped out the recliner so quickly that he fell unto the cold tiled floor.

“A man can’t neva get no sleep round here. Neva!” he yelled out.

He went to the bathroom and splashed cold water over his face. He stared back at the reflection in the mirror concentrating on the dark shadows that circled both eyes.

“Momma, I’m sorry I didn’t help. Your boy just wants to have some peace after twenty years.” He blinked over the tears which were beginning to form in his eyes.

“No time for that now.” He said in a low voice and decided to do some gardening instead. It had been a while since he had committed to do so and now seemed to be the ideal time. Dr. Phillips did encourage him to do things that brought him joy and to welcome some good distractions in his life. Michael was ready for a change and a chance to sleep again.