Perspective

Chapter Eight

"Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence"

***

"Help! Drew!" Mums strangled voice screams out from their bedroom, and I jump off the floor, kicking over my cup of crayons as I run towards my bedroom doorway.

I could hear the yelling for the last hour, the way they were screaming at each other, hitting each other, which is normal; it's just the same as background TV noise most nights.

But she only calls out to me when this is happening, when I have to stop it.

I have to stop them hurting each other.

I run as fast as my feet will take me, feeling my heart punch against my chest as I sprint out of the bedroom door.

I have to get to them. I have to take care of them. This is my job.

My bare feet hit against the carpet, my pulse blaring in my ears as panic grips my insides.

I'm scared.

The hallway feels like its ten miles long, like their doorway is moving further away as I run, puffing out quick breaths while I hear mum choke and scream, listening to dad scream, scream about how much he hates her.

Why don't they like each other?

When I finally reach their bedroom I shove the old door open as hard as I can, racing into the room and only have a few seconds to see what's happening.

Mum laying on the edge of the bed, her legs hung over it, with Dad over the top of her, his hands gripped tight around her neck, all I can see is his back.

"Stop it!" I scream as loud as I can, hoping they'll listen to me.

They never listen to me.

I will my legs to move, that feel frozen on the ground, running towards Dad and climbing up onto his back, trying to get him to listen to me.

I'm the only one that can stop it.

"Dad! Stop!" I scream again, begging him to hear me.

"Please Dad you're hurting mum!" I beg again, trying as hard as I can to pull him off.

But I'm too little. I'm always too small. I wish I was bigger. I wish I was stronger.

The panic in my belly shoots up into my chest, and I do the only thing I can think of to get his attention, watching mum choke and gasp while she claws at his face.

She doesn't look scared, she just looks angry, she looks hateful.

I never understand why she's not scared, I'm always scared.

I scream.

I scream as loud as I can until it burns my throat, squeezing my eyes closed and it's all I can do, I scream like I'm being murdered - it's blood curdling and filled with terror but I just want them to listen to me.