Lying in the depths of bed, under the covers; hidden and isolated in the dark world beneath heavy, soft, and secure comfort. He thinks he’s invisible. He thinks he’s safe. He thinks no one knows where he is. He just wants the screaming and shouting to stop. He has no idea why it happens. Just that it does happen, every night. Now, he is terrified, anxious, up tight, and frightened. He is scared; scared that that the yelling will come for him, or worse, beatings. Clenched teeth and closed fists combined with a raged craze came at a steep cost; a child’s innocent childhood. For now, he lies in wait hoping the covers protect him from the monsters below. Right now, he is scared his parents will break up. He’s scared his dad will leave for real one of these days, and never come back. He is too small to protect his brother. Later he will become passive, quiet, an introvert that lost himself, and a time bomb waiting to go off. No one truly understands him (that may be because he never tells anyone). He wishes that his dad didn’t have to go to work, because he doesn’t want to be left alone with his mom. He feels safer at school than he does at home. He goes to his best friend’s house and spends the entire day there, to get away from it all. She always takes it out on him and his brother when it didn’t get to their father. Poor kid could never figure out what he did. He’s confused.

Then he hears it. His hands throb, spine tingles, and stomach lurches. Then it bundles into a massive knot; the beginnings of ulcers. The stairs cringe under the weight of her steps. He knows it’s his mom coming up the stairs. How does he know? Experience.
She’s still coming. He starts to chew his fingers, frantically searching for an escape. He peels away a piece of skin and blood seeps out. Nothing; he’s out of ideas. He ponders running into his brother’s room to seek refuge under his covers. NO. That would just lead her to his brother. Maybe his closet? NO. Then he would just be stuck in the corner- Helpless. He grabs the covers and dives deeper into the depths of his bed.

Maybe the weekend will be better? Wait, it is the weekend.