Autumn F A L L S.

His kick flew and landed in my chattering teeth. The pain did not hit me with the sound, the crunch of adult teeth. With that moment, I did not worry. I waited for the ache, for the numbness to tick out of time.

Instead, I thought about how the violent crash reminded me of Autumn. How I'd just rake the leaves to stomp in them, to hear them break beneath my soles. How the power made me feel whole, taking the place of Drunk Daddy and Mouthy Mommy. How the distress of the leaves beneath my feet muted out Jimmy ending our marriage, soothed the pain of red cheeks and runny noses.

It struck then, pain pushing out all emotion. I spit out pink shatters and blood from gums. He laughed, black tar caking his throat. He lit another cigarette before he spoke.

"Like you needed any teeth," his voice was raspy and cold, holding a bit of his old Italian accent through the cancer that caked his lungs. The duplicate of my father's despite the fact it was lacking slurs and curse words. "You never speak, anyway."

He swung his leg back again, a venomous snake hissing and showing off its long fangs. This time, his shoe caught my gut and I clutch my stomach. The pain came easily this time, but I still thought about Fall. Yellow, red and orange more imporant than domestic violence, fighting and divorce. More important than love or boyfriends. All that mattered was the leaves falling outside my window, dressing the ground and leaving the trees bare. I smiled as Dad took another swish, as Mom cried a few more tears. They didn't matter, they never did.

"That baby wasn't mine," he kicked again, another crunch sounding in my ribcage, louder and aching. Another memory of dead leaves. He stomped on my stomach and turned around, taking fast drags of his cancer stick. "And it never will be."

Warm tears strung down my cheeks, I didn't try and hold it back. I didn't know it was coming. They were unavoidable tears, I did not care about the aching, but my body did. My belly ached and pulsated, I could feel cold blood dripping down my legs.

My words were my teeth, draping out of my mouth. I smiled at the thought of the red. My favorite color of the leaves, the rarest to find in the pile. I imagined I was laying there, instead on tan, stained carpet floor. I imagined it being bright outside and the leaves growing back on the trees just to fall off.

Snow drifted in through the open door. How I hated the white flecks, cold and small. Covering up the dry leaves and making them soggy, muting them of their beautiful music. Their echo on the sidewalk, in the grass.

Jimmy turned around, kneeling down on his scuffed jeans. The tip of his cigarette left burnt ashes on my skin, his fingernails scratched me. "Speak, goddammit."

The loss of blood made my head ache and I kept on smiling. Jimmy's face turned red and he grabbed his gun from his pocket. Had he mentioned that gun before? Have I seen it? With a click, the bullet flew toward me and I choked on my own teeth.