• The door creaked open, and a small head poked out and peered into the hallway. The small girl’s big blue-green eyes saw that the door at the end of the hall had a glowing outline. That meant her parents were still awake. The seven-year-old child stepped timidly further out her door, revealing to the shadows of the hallway her lavender pajamas, embroidered with daisies on the cuffs and collar of her shirt.

    Slowly, the girl approached the glowing door, hearing the muffled conversation of her parents, who were behind the door. A woman’s voice was quiet and could hardly be heard. It spoke timidly to the other voice, a man’s voice, commanding and booming. The man’s voice sounded frustrated, although what was being said could not be understood.

    The girl continued slowly to the door. Before she made the nervous journey across the hall, she was about to fall asleep when she heard her father’s voice yelling from the room. Startled, the girl slipped from her bed, decorated with a patch quilt blanket and numerous stuffed animals of giraffes, pandas, chickens and other common children’s dolls, and peaked out of the door. Worried about her parents, she shuffled down the hall to where she was now.

    The sound of flesh hitting flesh came from beyond the door and echoed in the girl’s ears. She winced when a woman’s stifled cry of pain followed. The man’s loud voice boomed again, seemingly pushing the girl back into her room, but the girl pressed on. She whimpered anxiously. She pressed her small hand of the face of the door, her lower lip quivering. The man’s voice yelled again, incoherent as usual, and another echoing sound attacked the girl’s ears. The girl winced again, whimpering louder still. Still, the brave little girl pressed on. She pushed the door slowly open, revealing a terrifying scene.

    The father stood the foot of the bed, his back to the door. The girl’s beautiful mother was cornered on the bed. Her eyes were wide in terror and her cheek was considerably pinker than was common. Strands of her deep chocolate hair covered her face wildly. She pressed herself as far back as she could into the headboard, a pointless attempt to escape.

    “Stop whining!” The father barked at the poor defenseless woman, his hand raised up sharply.

    The mother whimpered loudly in anticipation of the blow. The small girl gasped loudly. The mother’s eyes flicked to the open door and straight at the girl. Her eyes widened more, her breath more rapid, her mouth agape. The father saw this and turned to the girl as well, his face red in anger.

    “Rona, honey, p-please, go back to sleep.” Her mother’s voice trembled as she spoke, her eyes pleading desperately for her daughter to leave.

    “Mom!” The little girl called out. She started to run to her mother’s side, but her father stepped in the way.

    “She said, Go to bed!” The mad man barked at the child, his voice slurred while he teetering slightly back and forth. Rona winced and whimpered again, taking a step back. The father’s eyes were dull but full of rage.

    “R-richard,” Rona’s mother pleaded her husband, “You’re scaring her!” Her voice cracked.

    The father turned sharply back to the woman, his hand raised up again. The woman let out a frightened yelp as he approached.

    “No!” Rona flung her tiny weak arms around the man’s leg, doing her best to hold it back. “Leave Mom alone!” Her little voice defiant and scared at the same time.

    “Gerroff!” The beast that was once Rona’s father kicked her off his leg. Rona tumbled backwards, landing on her back, thankfully not hitting her head too hard on the ground. Her eyes stung, and fat tears rolled down her face in pain. She cried because of the pain in her back. She cried harder because of her father. She cried hardest about her poor mother.

    Rona lifted her head up only to see the man’s flaring nostrils. Rona whimpered loudly. She could hear her mother’s sobbing. She could feel her father’s angry breath on her while she lay. She got up as quickly as she could and ran out the door and back into the dark shadowy hallway. She fell only once on her face in her escape, but she got back up quickly only to continue to run.

    She closed the door hastily and flopped down on her bed, clutching her favorite animal doll, a fluffy sparrow that she has had ever since she could remember. Rona cried, her tears marked her face and the fell on the stuffed swallow. Soon enough Rona stopped weeping, her face wet and her eyes bloodshot. Still she clutched the sparrow, squeezing it to ease the pain of her heart.

    A sing she had heard so many times before came to her mind. Her mother sang it for her whenever she could not sleep or if she needed comfort. Right now, she could not do either.

    “The angels watch over me,” Rona sang quietly, her voice still cracking from her weeping. “as I lay my head, on my bed.”

    Rona sniffled, and held the swallow tighter. “The angels watch over me when I start to cry. My eyes dry.”

    Although another tear slid slowly down her cheek, Rona began to feel better. “The angels watch over me,” Rona rubbed her eye sleepily. “I won’t be alone, any more.” Rona’s eyelids grew heavy. She closed her eyes and went to sleep with a lighter feeling in her heart.