Three.

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Three.

Standing mere feet from each other, ready to pounce.

Their bodies convulsing with the tremors of anger that ran down their spines.

The door aided her as a shelter.

Their backs towards her.

Her mind clouded on the present situation.

Had she heard them shouting?

But she knew this happened when they were angry and her father's eyes large.

He would hit and hard.

Put away the steel ruler, her favourite pink pencil –a present from him- had been snapped in two last time.

The feeling of the previous beating fresh in her mind.

Hide under the table, her hot knees collided with the cold marble as she slid under the table.

Knees pasted to her chest as she squared under the table.

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