Jeffrey scrapped his knife into the plate, stabbed a piece of overcooked meat with his fork, and shoved it in his mouth. He chewed hard and with each bite he could feel the anger in him rising. The sounds echoed through the dining hall. His mother’s button eyes bore down into him as she smiled her plastic smile, never weavering. His brother’s face hung in a silent laugh, eyes hollowed out, his pressed school uniform looking worse from wear. The house was beginning to stink like rotting flesh. Jeffrey hadn’t seen the maid in a while. Maybe Mother fired her in a fit of rage. She was prone to do that, he thought.
Jeffrey slammed his fist onto the table causing the other’s plates and silverware to jump.
“I already told you, I didn’t do it! It was Bradley!” he screamed at his mother never moving, always smiling. He turned his attention to his brother. “Stop lying! I didn’t do it! I didn’t do anything!” he shouted at him. Jeffrey could hear their voices deep inside his mind scuttering around like ants on his brain. It hurt. He pounded his fists onto the table again, but the voices grew louder.
“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” he screamed at their lifeless bodies. Jeffrey threw the fork and knife down on the table, pushed back in the chair, and stormed out of the room. Where was that awful maid?
