I am five and coming home from kindergarten. The day had been fun, I painted and sat on the bus with my best friend, Vivian. I walk up the twisting walkway toward the door of our two story home. White pillars stood proudly, displaying the front door like an entrance to a fantasy world, a gold knocker situated near the top. I push through the door and set my backpack down while kicking my shoes off. Hearing Mommy and Daddy talking in the kitchen, I creep down the hallway to scare them. As I get closer, I begin to make out what they are saying, but I don't understand. Mommy is crying, Daddy is crying.
"He can't do this." Daddy calls out, his voice hoarse and tired.
"He's threatening to bring us to court." Mommy's voice says and I lean against the door to hear them better. A chair moves and
