prompt 63: do not disturb

The do-not-disturb sign is on Mother's door again, and you know what that means. Grab something to eat and lock your bedroom door, then pop your headphones on with the music up as loud as it'll go and try to block them out.

You don't even realize you've fallen asleep until you hear her pounding on the bedroom door - bam bam bam bam, followed by her screechy voice, slurred with the booze she's drank and whatever else went with it, "OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!"

Ignore her, and she'll go away in a few minutes, muttering angrily to herself. The battery in your CD player ran dead who-knows-when, so you get up and dig through the junk drawer in your dresser, trying batteries until you find one that works, tossing the dead ones back into the drawer, because really, they're batteries.

But you don't even have time to turn the CD back on before you hear her out in the living room, laughing her wheezy laugh, a purr in her words, and you know she's on Dave's lap, running her long, perfectly manicured scarlet fingernails through his hair, or, if he's a skinhead like some of them have been, down his chest.

Of course, his name isn't really Dave; actually, you have no idea what it is; you've just called them all "Dave" since him, the one who actually was named Dave, but you'd rather not think about him if you don't have to.

You're about to turn on your music again when you realize you have to use the bathroom, so you set the player on the dresser and slip out into the hall, closing the door so quietly that it barely makes a sound. There's vomit on the bathroom floor, probably Mother's; she does that - drink until she pukes and then drink some more. She'll throw a fit if it's there later, once she's sobered up, so you clean it up quickly with an already-dirty towel from the hamper, tossing it back in once you're done, checking the rest of the floor to make sure you got it all.

When you step out of the bathroom again, she's standing at the sink, pouring shots, and sees you. When she looks over, so does he, a wide, lecherous smile twisting his lips. She looks back at the bottle and ignores you, but he beckons for you to join them, "hey little girl, have a drink with mummy and daddy, it'll be fun, you'll like this drink, little girl, c'mon", but you ignore him and make your way back into your room as quickly as you dare, locking the door again and picking up your CD player.

Another hour, maybe two, then you'll never see him again, it'll be someone new next time, it's never the same one twice. So you turn the music back on, still as loud as it'll go, and settle in to wait, only to repeat the whole thing next time you see that ugly little red and white sign that reads "do not disturb".