I stood in front of a mirror, the face of a little girl staring back at me. Lush golden hair swept across my shoulders, the warmth of summer sunlight filtered through the curtains. The bathroom lighting always complimented the color my skin.
It was a beautiful day, but there was nothing to be happy about.
For the first time, my parents were arguing. I could hear my mother’s voice, coming from downstairs. Her tone was soft at first, she was trying to keep her anger in check, but I could also hear the pain in them.
She was asking my father questions, interrogating him about some woman. I didn’t understand why this elevated her anger, I didn’t understand why she needed the details. I was too young, too helpless. I stood behind closed doors, wishing they would stop yelling at one another.
