My Cardboard Balcony

Three, Two... by Belinda Roddie My brain is a time bomb going tick tick tock, and if I blow my fuse, there's no way to make it stop.

Jessie spun a tale quickly for her parents when they demanded why she had been out so late the past night. The bruises on her arms, of course, helped boost any so-called credibility she was trying to attain, and I watched wide-eyed as her mother pulled the girl into her arms, soothing her and cooing her as she spilled her crocodile tears. Jessie had told her parents that my brother, her boyfriend, had abused her - in reality, the contusions were merely on her body because she had hit first, and Todd had fought back.