Mom and Dad were at it again, their voices echoing through the house. It was like watching a storm brewing, dark clouds gathering and threatening to unleash a torrent of anger. The kids huddled in their rooms, their hearts pounding with fear.

The fight seemed endless, a vicious cycle of accusations and recriminations. It was as if they were two ships passing in the night, unable to find common ground or see each other's point of view. The air was thick with tension, and the children could feel the strain in their bones.

They longed for the storm to pass, for the peace and harmony that had once filled their home. But as the hours turned into days, it became clear that the conflict was far from over. The wounds were deep, and the scars would take time to heal.