They came thundering in like savage, terrifying monsters.

There was noise. Shouting. Wood scraping against wood. Glass shattering. Angry, stomping footsteps that thudded against the floorboards, making them creak and squeal beneath the forced weight.

Hiding in shadows, a small child held a dark blanket tightly around her body. She clutched the fabric, pulling it further down over her head with each loud, violent noise she heard around her.

She was scared. She felt like the blankets and the bed-frame she was hiding beneath were closing in around her, suffocating her. Yet, despite those fears, despite the fact that she felt like her tiny body was being crushed, she persisted and willed this fear forward. Being crushed would be better. It would be better than to be taken by those filthy hands, those dirty hands that would drag her from her home and hurt her.

Like a violent storm, the noise continued around her, tearing apart and destroying every trace of her perfect life. She wanted them to go away and never come back. She wanted Mother to come home and tell them all to leave. Hot tears seared down her cheeks and she laid there trembling.

After a long time, the noise finally faded into silence, leaving a small ringing in the girl’s ears. She didn’t move. She barely breathed. All she wanted was Mother.
And Mother would be home very soon.

…Wouldn’t she?


well. that was a little depressing to write.
even so, the idea wouldn't leave my mind until i wrote it down.
don't think i even did any justice to it. oh well. ._.