The Prized Girl. Amy K. Green

turned the light back off to hide in the darkness. She crept toward the kitchen, feeling the floor turn from carpet to tile under her feet. She paused again for any sounds. Silence.

      As she reached the kitchen island, halfway to the garage door, she noticed the bottle of bourbon that had assaulted her nasal cavity the first night she snuck out. Things weren’t adding up, but time wasn’t on her side. Getting out of the house was her only concern.

      She reached the door to the garage, and as she grabbed for the handle, the light over the oven switched on. Jenny whipped around to see Linda revealed under the pointed yellow glow. It wasn’t an intruder, but her mother, looking like a stranger. Mascara ran down her red face as she stood holding a glass of the brown liquor.

      “Mom?”

      “Where are you going?” she asked.

      “Nowhere.”

      The lie seemed to cause Linda physical pain. She recoiled into herself, relying on the counter to keep her on her feet.

      “Mom?” Jenny asked, taking careful steps toward her.

      “Did I do this to you?” Linda whined, alcohol robbing her of any dignity.

      “Everything is OK,” Jenny argued, reaching a hand to her mother’s shoulder.

      The touch triggered Linda, who regained her strength and lunged toward her daughter, grabbing her by both arms. “Tell me where you’re going! Are you doing drugs? Are you having sex?” She shook her daughter for an answer.

      “No, Mom, I promise. Please stop.” Jenny was tearing up now. An uncontrollable reaction to being violently shaken.

      Linda’s eyes widened in a moment of brief clarity, and she released Jenny’s arms, horrified at what she was doing, and collapsed back against the counter.

      Jenny retreated one step at a time until she felt the door, reaching behind her back and sliding her fingers around the knob.

      “Mommy needs you to be a good girl,” Linda pleaded. “You are being a very, very bad girl.”

      Her mother had devolved into something infantile, a behavior scarier in that moment than any physical harm she could do. Jenny returned to her first plan, yanked the door open, and bolted.

      “Jenny!” her mother yelled into the night, watching her daughter sprint down the driveway where she could find cover just beyond the jurisdiction of the house lights. “Come back! I’m sorry!” Her screams faded away with every stride Jenny took.