Every Story has a Beginning
A little girl, seven years old, sat in her room, curled in the corner. She could hear shouts from the kitchen, something glass shattered, and something fell with a thud to the floor. She could hear her mother's sobs and her step father's angry shouts. This happened every day, the fighting, and her step father always found something to shout about. He loved to shout and throw things. This was bad, but the worst was when her mother didn't come home until very late, then her step father had to find someone else to shout at and it was always her. He hit her when she didn't do just as he said, her tiny body slamming against the wall. Big bruises in the shape of handprints formed on her body. Her mother never had time to comfort her, she was too busy working. He constantly drank from glass bottles that smelled like death, they made her head hurt.
Suddenly there was an eerie silence, the shouting had stopped. The little girl ventured to the kitchen to find her mother lying alone on the floor, barely breathing. The little girl ran from the apartment sobbing. She looked back once she was outside. I will never, she promised herself, ever come back.