I hear voices screaming from down the hallway. I am twelve years old, and, just like a baby, I run to hide in my closet behind the hamper. I want to run away, but I have nowhere to go. I cannot leave.
"Get out!" she screams, "Just get out!" I hear glass shatter, and something thuds against the other side of my wall.
"Fine! I leave then! You no listen to me, no respect me, I leave!" The sound of his broken English drifts down the hall. The door slams, and I shudder as I hear her sobbing in the living room. I don't know why she's crying. This has happened before. And he never stays away for long. An hour at the most, and he'll be back. Though I always wished it were different.
"Cally?" His voice breaks my reverie, and I try to smile at him. "Are you okay? You seemed kind of out of it for a minute there."
"I'm fine, Will," I say, though I can feel the lump in my throat that just won't go away no matter how many times I swallow. It seems determined to choke me.
"Are you sure? Is there anything you want to talk about it?"
"No," I reply, "There isn't."