I was six, heard a sound in the night, I slept the night away. Woke that night, tired, confused.* We leave, gripping my mother's hand as she yells.
This is it.
The day comes and we are back in that claustrophobic house, I'm choking on cigarette ashes, thirsty. Slight memory of the crackers in the cabinet I could never reach. I had a bath later, and little to my recollection now, he was there, my mother is there, vaguely remember. Faint sounds of loss of breath, splashing.
They aren't there now. I had forgotten entirely. My sisters had not.
I am  twenty one now, a loss of innocence grips me, I am angry everyday and I hurt the ones I love. Everything that I never want to become brings me fear, and haunts like a sound in the night.
Tired, confused.
**This is it.