Hidden in shadows,
Watching the door.
The boy observes silently
His parents at war.

Mother’s shouting and screaming,
Arms flailing the air.
Father moves forward
And shoves her into a chair.

She glowers and hisses
Something the boy cannot hear,
But the look on Father’s face
Makes him tremble with fear.

Father whispers back,
His face hard and cold.
Then suddenly she spits
Defiant and bold.

There’s a sharp resounding slap
And the boy lets out a cry,
But instantly bites it back,
Not wanting to die.

Silence deafens the room,
Father’s head slowly turns.
The boy stumbles back,
Eyes starting to burn.

Father starts to move forward,
But Mother grabs his arm,
Begging and pleading
Not to do their son harm.

For the instant Father’s distracted,
The boy turned and fled.
Racing upstairs
To the safety of his bed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

‘They're at it again.’
The boy realises with a jolt.
Always fighting. Always shouting.
And it’s always his fault…