"Leave her the fuck alone too!" Mum stumbles to sit back on the bed, her eyes drunk and heavy as she reaches to the packet of cigarettes on her bedside table, plucking one from the packet as she sways back and forth, staring daggers at me. "Hope you're happy with yourself you piece of shit, you made her cry, look what you've done" she sneers spitefully at Dad, lighting her cigarette as she scoffs, and he clenches his fists while he glares at her. Dad turns around, looking down at me as he grasps my shoulder urging me to get out of the bedroom "Go on Drew, go back to bed, everything is alright" His red eyes motion to the door way, and I stare at him as my lip trembles, nodding as I look at mum; recoiling back from the way she's looking at me. I don't understand why she screams for me to help if she hates me so much, is it because I didn't help enough? Didn't I stop it fast enough? Did I do something wrong? I'll be better next time. I'll do it better next time and maybe then she'll like me. Dad likes me, but he's so sad or angry all the time. He's even more angry when there's that smell. Mum just gets more mean when that smell happens, it makes her really mean to me. I hang my head, as I turn and walk out of the bedroom, sniffing and grabbing the collar of my pyjama shirt to wipe at my eyes, my shoulders dropping when Dad closes the door behind me. As soon as the door closes I hear the yelling start again, things being thrown, the holes being put in the walls. They say such awful things to each other. I suck in shaky breaths, trying to calm myself down but it never works. I wish I could hug someone, or that someone would make it all better but no one ever does. I walk back to my room, going to my CD player, and putting on one of Dads CD's, turning it up until I can't hear the yelling any more but keep my bedroom door open in case mum screams out for help again; sitting back on the floor in front of my colouring book and clean up my crayons I knocked over. Mum would be so mad if she saw I did that. Dad never yells out for me no matter how hurt he is, mum would never let me help him. I rub at my eyes again, sucking in a sharp breath as I choke out another sob, and look down at my colouring book with my eyes burning. It's so late. I'm so tired. But I can't go to sleep. I have to make sure they're okay. I'm going to be so tired at school tomorrow and the teacher is going to yell at me again for falling asleep. I wish I didn't cry, mum hates it when I cry; she gets so angry at me but I'm not trying to be bad, I'm just so sad all the time but I can't explain why. I keep wiping the moisture away from my cheek, everytime tears slip past my lashes as I start to colour again, listening to the music and pretending I'm not there, drowning it all out - there's no yelling, no one is hurting each other; I'm safe and all I can hear is the music. After a while I turn the music down, hearing silence, which sometimes scares me more. I'm always scared they'll hurt each other really really bad and I won't be there to stop it. I grab my blanket from my bed, walking to my door way and peeking around the corner; still hearing nothing and look to the clock on the wall in the hallway. 3:00am. I'm going to be so tired tomorrow. I walk up the hallway, stopping in front of the door way; sinking down on to my knees and then laying down on my side, on the floor, pressing my cheek against the bottom of the door so I can hear underneath it and pull my blanket over me. I lay there quietly, listening for small sounds of mum or dad breathing; snoring or coughing in their sleep and feel relief when I do. I always need to make sure they're breathing before I can go to sleep. My heavy eyes start to drift closed, and everything goes black. But then I hear it again, the scratching on the walls, those nails dragging along them. It only happens when it's quiet. She's back. "No!" I gasp, my eyes blinking open as I try and pull myself from sleep, feeling them burn and sting from the tears in them. My chest is heaving as I suck in sharp breaths, darting my eyes around the room frantically as I swallow the dry feeling in my throat and try and figure out where I am. My blurry eyes try to adjust, as I squint around the room, bringing my hands up to wipe my eyes. A large warm tongue licks a long wet, sloppy kiss up my cheek and I grimace, hearing the familiar snorting and look to the side to see gizmo sitting next to my shoulders staring down at me and panting. "Oh hey bubba - m'okay, it was just a dream" I murmur, my voice hoarse from sleep, and I scrunch my face as I rub my hands over my eyes, before grabbing my shirt and wiping my cheek. Gizmo is always right there to wake me up, he has been since I got him; I don't know how I did all of this before I had him. I guess that's probably the reason I almost didn't do all of this any more, it's unbearable. Suddenly my attention is caught when the smell hits me. His smell. I'm in Harrys shirt. My eyes snap wide awake as I look around the room again; sitting up bolt straight and looking down to the white shirt on my torso. I'm at Frankies. "Fuck" I groan, burying my face in my hands; my eyes still burning from now not only tears but the brief couple hours of sleep I've gotten. I feel exhausted just from waking up.