Hurt

She hid under the bed, knowing all too well that he would still find her, amongst the dust balls and cobwebs. It was so strange being under this bed, hiding from a man whose memories were scattered around her. She could hear him downstairs, bellowing and throwing china with a smash that reverberated in her ears. She knew he was coming for her. She heard him cry out, ‘Where is she?,’ and  started to panic. He bounded up the stairs, taking two at a time, and started banging doors trying to find her. She was in trouble. She had been too loud, thus disturbing his activities. And now she would pay the price. She heard his footsteps fall outside her room, and then there he was, pulling her out from under the bed, dragging her down the hallway. His fists fell on her like a cacophany, bleeding her and leaving her bruised and limp. When it was all over she allowed herself to cry. There was no one there to hear her. She was nine years old, and all she knew of the world was that it was her enemy.

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