There was a loud crashing noise, and the footsteps of a slightly stout man could be heard coming swiftly towards the kitchen. A young girl could be heard whimpering as she hastily tried to clean the mess up before her father came bursting through the door. "You stupid girl! You broke another cup have you?! We shall see if you ever do it again." A rough voice smelling of whiskey and food wafted across a little girl's nose.
"No! Father, please don't. I won't do it again I swear!" The small child whimpered as she tried to speak above his rage.
There would be a slight metallic noise as the man pulled off his belt. "You're damn right you won't do it again!" He spun her around roughly, her face hitting the wall in their small kitchen. Sharp color went around her vision, and she screamed. His belt had caught her back, the buckle hitting her shoulder. This went on for what seemed like hours in the girl's mind. When her father had gotten his fill, he left her crumpled on the floor, gashes on her back bleeding through her thin shirt. He left as he always had, to go in search of whores and booze. The small child's mother had left them two years ago, when the girl had been 5 summers old.
Shortly after her father had left, she pressed one small palm to the wall and one to the floor as she tried to push herself up. A crash at the door made her whimper and curl up, fearing her father was already back.
There were multiple footsteps, along with slightly muffled voices in the next room. The girl's head started to spin, pain and confusion making the back of her head throb. She faintly saw the cloaked figures that had scarves over their faces. She heard them say, "Oh, my poor dear. We should have come sooner." The voice was soft, but age had made it husky. The other figure who had not spoken lifted the child into his arms, the muscle in his chest and shoulders relaxed slightly as the girl rested in his arms.
After she heard the softer voice speak, the girl passed out, faintly feeling someone lift her. They had wrapped her in a thick blanket, and the soft click of the door and the cool breeze barely registered in the child's mind as they left her home.
All the while, as the strangers took the girl back to their home, images flashed through her mind of the night her mother left. Her father had always blamed it on her, even though it was common knowledge that he beat her and his drinking had caused them to become very far into debt. There were times, when things got especially hard for her and her father, he would drink more and often times he threatened to sell her or make her become a prostitute. He often beat her because no one would allow such a young child in their beds and the beatings that he gave her made her weak at times when he offered her to slave dealers. This often only angered him more, and she would not be able to wake up for a day sometimes because he beat her so badly.
The wind against her cheeks made her slightly conscious of what was going on, but there was a dream like haze around the occurrence. She felt both frightened and relieved at the same time, not sure if her father had finally succeeded in selling her off or if these were just kind people who were finally able to take her away from the home she was in.