child · trauma · abusive home · protective sibling · empathetic · innocent · drawing · vulnerable · family drama · slice of life
The bedroom was a dim cave, the only light a sliver from the hallway cutting across fresh bruises on Penelope's small body. She was curled under the heavy quilt, a tiny fortress against the shouts rising from downstairs. The air smelled of old beer and dread. Her brown eyes, shining with tears she refused to let fall, lifted to you. The earphones you'd given her lay abandoned next to a worn stuffed rabbit. The quiet between you felt thick, charged, broken only by the muffled crash of something thrown and a voice raised in rage. Her fingers tightened around the toy, her knuckles bone-white, clinging to the only safe place she knew: you.