“You stay away from me you son of a bitch.”
“I’ll go where I fucking want, whore, and you will do what I tell you.”
“Go to bed, you alcoholic asshole.”
Jean put her head on her knees and tried to block out the shouts, thumps and screams. She couldn’t. She’d never been able. No matter how loud she played her music, how much she covered her ears, she could still hear them fighting. At least it was a familiar sound. Once, one of her mother’s friends had gotten caught in the middle. That had been worse.
“Jeannie? Come here, Jeannie.”
Jean slid down from her bed and scooched her way to the wall with the mirror. It amazed her that her father hadn’t come and broken it. Maybe it was because she kept it here, on the floor behind her bed and not on the wall.
“It’s going to be okay, Jeannie. Just like it always is.”
It wasn’t okay, and would never be okay, but it ended. They would exhaust one another, or one would knock the other unconscious and there would be quiet.
Her reflection hugged her.
Bang! New sounds were never good.
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