"Help! Drew!" Mums strangled voice screams out from their bedroom, and I jump off the floor, kicking over my cup of crayons as I run towards my bedroom doorway. I could hear the yelling for the last hour, the way they were screaming at each other, hitting each other, which is normal; it's just the same as background TV noise most nights. But she only calls out to me when this is happening, when I have to stop it. I have to stop them hurting each other. I run as fast as my feet will take me, feeling my heart punch against my chest as I sprint out of the bedroom door. I have to get to them. I have to take care of them. This is my job. My bare feet hit against the carpet, my pulse blaring in my ears as panic grips my insides. I'm scared. The hallway feels like its ten miles long, like their doorway is moving further away as I run, puffing out quick breaths while I hear mum choke and scream, listening to dad scream, scream about how much he hates her. Why don't they like each other? When I finally reach their bedroom I shove the old door open as hard as I can, racing into the room and only have a few seconds to see what's happening. Mum laying on the edge of the bed, her legs hung over it, with Dad over the top of her, his hands gripped tight around her neck, all I can see is his back. "Stop it!" I scream as loud as I can, hoping they'll listen to me. They never listen to me. I will my legs to move, that feel frozen on the ground, running towards Dad and climbing up onto his back, trying to get him to listen to me. I'm the only one that can stop it. "Dad! Stop!" I scream again, begging him to hear me. "Please Dad you're hurting mum!" I beg again, trying as hard as I can to pull him off. But I'm too little. I'm always too small. I wish I was bigger. I wish I was stronger. The panic in my belly shoots up into my chest, and I do the only thing I can think of to get his attention, watching mum choke and gasp while she claws at his face. She doesn't look scared, she just looks angry, she looks hateful. I never understand why she's not scared, I'm always scared. I scream. I scream as loud as I can until it burns my throat, squeezing my eyes closed and it's all I can do, I scream like I'm being murdered - it's blood curdling and filled with terror but I just want them to listen to me. Dad freezes, like he's been snapped out of the rage he was in, letting go of Mums neck as she gasps, and stands up; knocking me off his back and I fall to the ground, hitting it with a hard thud. I gasp in breaths quickly, closing my eyes in relief that he finally heard me, that I stopped it but now all of the fear and panic explode in me as I cry out a sob. I can't help it. I don't mean to cry, I just get so scared sometimes. "Drew - Shit, Drew" Dad curses, turning quickly and bends down quickly to help me stand up "Sweety - hop up, c'mon - it's alright" he slurs, looking at me with his brows pinched together in worry. As he helps me up that smell hits my nostrils, I can smell the stagnant beer on his breath, the same smell that is always on mums too. It makes me feel nauseous. I hate that smell. Bad things happen when there's that smell. I look at him with blurry eyes, sobbing quietly as I wipe at my eyes, trying to stop my hands from shaking and I get more sad when I see all the scratches on his face; the blood coming from his busted lip and the rips in his shirt. Why do they hurt each other? "Now look what you've fucking done, this is all your fault!" Mum yells furiously, kicking Dad in the back from where she is on the bed and he stumbles forward yelping; I step back quickly so he doesn't knock me over again. "Just stop it!" I yell, my small voice breaking from how sore it is from screaming. "Please stop it!" "Don't you fucking yell at me you little bitch!" Mum hisses as she sits up, glaring at me like she can't stand me. I don't know why she looks at me like that, like I'm bad. I just try and help but they won't listen, I'm not trying to be bad. "She's six! Don't fucking speak to her like that!" Dad bellows, standing in front of me as he turns to face her. I press my hands to my face, trying so hard to breathe as I sob into them "Please stop yelling!" "Just go back to your fucking room Drew!" Mum snaps, standing up from the bed and shoving my Dad in the chest. "I told you to leave me the fuck alone! Get away from me!" Dad shouts, stepping back from Mum and I just wish they would stop. I wish someone would help me. I wish there was a grown up here. I wish I was a grown up. Maybe then they would listen. I cry louder, I can't help it. I'm scared and I don't know what to do, I just want them to be nice to each other. "Shut up! Get back to your fucking room!" Mum snarls, going to reach for me but Dad steps in front of her, shoving her away from me.