Read All About It (Part 1)

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by LittlePanda1

by LittlePanda1

Song by Emeli Sande

You've got a heart as loud as lions

So why let your voice be tamed?

Maybe we're a little different

There's no need to be ashamed

You've got the light to fight the shadows

So stop hiding it away

Come on, come on

Screams. Cries. Shatter. Broken. Hatred. Sadness. Stop. No. Done. Blood. Sweat. Tears. Shame. Disappointment. Rage. Violence.

Tears threatened to cascade down her tightly shut eyes as she tightly clasped her hands over her ears. They were at it again, her parents. Screaming. Shouting. Arguing. Beating on one another till blood stained the walls, till their knuckles were raw red. Barking and growling at one another with the fury of hungry wolves. Destroying the house with the strength of a tornado, tsunami, and a hurricane combined together.

Their vocal chords should have snapped long ago when they reached the pitch of shattering glass. Their fists should have been bruised purple and blue from the constant fist pounding. Their eyes should have been scorched red from the amount of tears they poured out or from the endless bottles of alcohol that they would consume before and after each fight.

The house was in shambles. Furniture overturned and stained with the reeking stench of vomit. Pictures torn until nothing remained or burnt until only ash and memories were left behind. Holes broken through concrete walls, blood tainting chipping paint.

On the outside, the family would seem normal. Smiling and making civil conversation. Went to work, went out with friends, went out grocery shopping, went to charity events. They were normal. To the eyes of their neighbors and their coworkers.

However...

On the inside, they were a spiraling downward mess. Screaming and crying. Abuse and fighting. Arguing and breaking furniture. The monarchs of the kingdom would rage war within their own walls while their little princess was left alone to cry in the shadows of the prison.

She tried speaking up before, but she was slapped down in denial and her voice was lost. At school, her peers and friends didn't take much notice, she could smile the day away. Her teachers were too caught up in the busy life of work and grading to even acknowledge the situations any one of their secondary children were having. She couldn't say anything to the counselors, her parents have them under the impression that they live the perfect family dream life.

Everyone around her would talk about the adventures that their families would experience, talked about their travels to different countries, talked about how they would go to a family dinner every Sunday as a ritual in celebration of their luck.

She, on the other hand, lied through her teeth. Just because she didn't want to be judge by people who seem to have the dream life while she's force to succumb to the demons within her.

She keeps a little diary that she writes in as soon as she gets home, just before her mother drags herself home from work to consume an entire bottle of vodka. Just a few hours before her father stumbles into the house in his drunken and angry state. She would write about how she feels, how she wants someone to help her, how she wishes that she was stronger, how she wishes that the fighting would cease, how she wishes that she wasn't born.

There are nights when she just wants to cry her heart out, stand upon the rickety brick tile roof of her house and scream for someone to help them. There's nothing more that she wants rather than for people to finally acknowledge that they aren't perfect, that they need help before they get sucked farther down into the hell hole of death and despair. But, she's scared, she needs someone who isn't afraid.

I wanna sing, I wanna shout

I wanna scream 'til the words dry out

So put it in all of the papers,

I'm not afraid

They can read all about it

Read all about it, oh

Oh-oh-oh