“Why are you so stupid?” He roared at her.
“Don’t touch me!” She screamed back.
The yelling grew louder and echoed up the stairwell. I cuddled one of my younger sisters.
We tip-toed downstairs, tear streaked faces glancing down the hall. My hands shook.
Reaching the front door, we ducked outside.
Fresh air.
We raced, hearts pounding, to our neighbour’s, knowing she had heard it all.
Her front door swung open, a soft smile on her face.
We turned up some music as craft boxes cracked open, flour coated the kitchen and toys spilled across the floor.
Always laughing.
© 2015-2021 Rebecca Glaessner
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