My Past

The door slams shut--

His foot steps echo

He staggers twice then…

Silence.

The fridge opens and shuts

We hear him open a can

And pour it into a cup 

I feel my little brother cringe.

Hear my sister shush us. but it all feels distant,

As if I'm not really there

Mom pretends to sleep.

Knowing he'll drag her out of bed to pick a fight,

Then…Nothing

Silence beats down on us

Fear claws at our stomachs.

Screaming at us to run.

It’s the quiet before the storm

None of us willing to break it.

Knowing the storm will break

But not when. Leaving us to

Pray for help that never comes.

Begging for salvation only to be denied.