Holy Cow

12 UNCOMFORTABLY NUMB

(see Floyd, Pink)

When I awoke, the middle child was milking me. I must have been awake before that, but I was kind of sleepwalking, half of me could not stop thinking of what I’d seen, which left only half of me to be awake and conscious and make my way through my day. I had always liked the middle child, he was gentle, and he liked to talk to me while he milked me, to tell me about his problems, problems at school, with his parents, with his obnoxious older brother. I guess he thought I was safe, that I didn’t understand a word he said. I was always there for him. But not today. Today, I did not like people. None of them. And I guess it was affecting my milk, ’cause the boy kept asking me, “What’s wrong, girl?” and taking my face in his hands, and looking deep into my eyes, and petting the top of my head, which I had always loved, but today I just wanted to spit at him or ram him. So that’s what I did. I clocked him one right on the chin with my forehead and sent both him and the milk pail tumbling over.

I recognized the look in the boy’s eyes now. I recognized it because I could feel it on my own face. It was like looking in a mirror. It was the look of betrayal, of being betrayed. And we just stood there frozen for a moment, me and the boy, staring at each other with our betrayed faces. I could see a tear forming in his eye, and for a moment, I almost felt bad. Almost. But then that almost feeling went away, and I realized I couldn’t feel anything anymore. That I would never feel anything again. Ever. I felt dead inside. I was completely numb. I lowered my head and charged him again.