What I Would Have Said — Kaylene Hua
I would have told him to stop. I would have told him to stop yelling. I would have told him to back up. I would have told him to put the stone horse statue down. He had it raised up by his head, threatening to throw it at her. I would have told her to stop crying. I would have told her to get her act together. I would have told her to call Dad at work and talk to him. I would have told her to step away from him and leave. Just walk away. I would have told them both to just stop. To stop yelling at each other over a stupid argument. I would have told them both to grow up. I would have told them that there was an eight year old girl watching them. Her daughter, his younger sister. I would have told them to stop, before she thought this was normal.
I would have told him to stop. I would have told her she shouldn’t have started it. I would have taken my sister out of the house so she didn’t have to see or hear them fight. I would have told him to leave. Just walk away and leave. I would have tried to stop the fight before Dad had to stop his work meeting to deal with it. I would have tried to stop the fight before Dad yelled at him to “get the hell out of my house”. I would have tried to stop the fight before I could see him cry at the top of the stairs. I would have gone into my room so I wouldn’t see him walking out the door, my dad slamming it shut behind him. I would have told her she was acting like a child. I felt more mature, yet she was an adult. I was just a kid. I would have told them both to listen to how they sounded. Hopefully then they would realize how stupid and childish they were being.
I would have begged him to calm down. I would have begged him to slow down. Please. Slow down. We’re going to get in a crash. Why did I make him mad? Why did I do this? I would have begged him to stop ranting to Dad over the phone about me, as if I wasn't in the passenger seat next to him. I would have built up the courage to apologize. I should have apologized. I would have told him to slow down. We were going 50 in a 25 mph zone. I would have told him I made a mistake and that I was sorry. But it was just a mistake. Everyone makes them, right? He sped into the driveway, barely stopping the car before I grabbed my things and ran out. He started yelling to my dad about how I made him wait for 40 minutes. I would have spoken up, apologized at least. I was sorry. I just didn’t know how to show it. Or even build up the courage to say it. I could hear him yelling outside through my room window. Tears ran and it felt like the oxygen level in my room was dropping. I would have told myself to breathe before it led to worse. I would have tried to convince myself that it was all going to be okay. That he would leave soon and I wouldn't have to see him ever. I would have told myself it was going to be okay. Even if I didn’t believe it.
I closed the door behind me and slid my back down it. I sat with my legs bent tight against my chest, my fingers twiddling. Tears began streaming and I buried my head in my legs. Suddenly, I couldn't see or hear anything. My chest was on fire. I couldn’t breathe. Tears continued to fall. I tried to muffle the sounds of my crying. Tried to muffle my whimpering, only making me feel more suffocated. I couldn’t breathe. My fingers were tingling, I was starting to overheat. I didn’t know what was happening. I started to pace around my room, shaking my hands to loosen up. I couldn’t find my thoughts. I could feel my head and heart pound. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t breathe.
I did tell her to stop. I told her to go away. I told her she wasn’t helping. She was only making things worse. I told her to leave, to get out of my sister’s room. I told her to not go near her and to leave her alone. I told her I was helping my sister, and that she wasn’t. She was pressing up against me, her anger blinding her judgement of personal space. I pushed her away, yelling at her to get out. My voice shocked her, I had never raised my voice at her before. I never had the courage to. But when it came to protecting my sister, something snapped in me. Something stronger than fear. My sister sat on her bed, knees hugged, face red and wet. I stood between them, like a wall. I wasn’t scared necessarily, just furious. Furious that I even had to do this. She was supposed to be the adult. The parent. Our mom. Grow up, I thought. I was fifteen, and yet I was the one who had to protect us. I told her to leave, that she wasn’t helping. Just making things worse.
I would have told her to stop.
I did tell her to stop.
Kaylene Hua is a high school sophomore from Massachusetts who loves to dance and travel. When not doing those, she can be found hanging out with friends, going on late night drives, or sleeping! This story is her first publication, and she is looking forward to more!