"I and my brother would sleep in a cupboard and hide from him. It was supposed to be a one-time thing. That's what Mama said." My voice cracked on the word. "And then it became an everyday thing. Sometimes I would be asleep, and my brother would wake me up and tell me we needed to hide."
I held back the tears. I didn't want to cry again. I had cried enough for one night.
"Every morning, the next day after he left, our mom would open up the cupboard and greet us with a smile. She would have a little snack or something. We could get past the nights just thinking about her opening the cupboard with a smile the next day." I paused, my throat tightening. "Until one day..."
I stopped. My voice was shaking now, and I couldn't stop it.
"We waited. And waited. And waited. She didn't open the cupboard. Our dad had left hours ago, but she still didn't open the cupboard."
