HOME | DD

Description
Breathe.

All-too-familiar footsteps sounded down the hall, directly on the other side of the wall that she lay against in her bed. Her eyes widened in the dark, then quickly shut as she wrapped her slender arms snugly around her child's torso and rolled, quietly as possible, onto her stomach. The thick blanket was already pulled up to her neck – for all the good it would do. Breathe, steady, don't tense…

She could imagine it; she'd seen it often enough. There was the creaking of the floorboard as he stopped at the door. His shadow would interrupt the band of light from the space beneath it. The handle would turn. Breathe. You're asleep already! Breathe. Oh please god... In that familiar panic she prayed, begged a god who didn't answer. He never did. Waiting for what had become inevitable she lay, carefully controlling the rise and fall of her back in the weak hopes that being asleep would deter.

Waiting. Breathe, rhythmically, deeply…

Except, the handle didn't turn. No light from the hall flooded the room; no hand landed upon her shoulder. First came unbelieving shock, then flooding relief as there was another creak and the footsteps moved away. There was the opening and closing of another door, then silence. She could hear nothing but the furious pounding of blood through her head.

Her eyes opened, slowly, finally, wide and pupils dilated in the darkness. When the tears came she squeezed them shut again, half-burying her face in the pillow, the cloth soon becoming warm and moist against her skin. Breathe, breathe... Careful, controlled breathing was reduced to ragged sobs of hopelessness and relief both, muffled. Her slender form shook, suddenly ridden with cold sweat under the covers.

Description
Breathe.

All-too-familiar footsteps sounded down the hall, directly on the other side of the wall that she lay against in her bed. Her eyes widened in the dark, then quickly shut as she wrapped her slender arms snugly around her child's torso and rolled, quietly as possible, onto her stomach. The thick blanket was already pulled up to her neck – for all the good it would do. Breathe, steady, don't tense…

She could imagine it; she'd seen it often enough. There was the creaking of the floorboard as he stopped at the door. His shadow would interrupt the band of light from the space beneath it. The handle would turn. Breathe. You're asleep already! Breathe. Oh please god... In that familiar panic she prayed, begged a god who didn't answer. He never did. Waiting for what had become inevitable she lay, carefully controlling the rise and fall of her back in the weak hopes that being asleep would deter.

Waiting. Breathe, rhythmically, deeply…

Except, the handle didn't turn. No light from the hall flooded the room; no hand landed upon her shoulder. First came unbelieving shock, then flooding relief as there was another creak and the footsteps moved away. There was the opening and closing of another door, then silence. She could hear nothing but the furious pounding of blood through her head.

Her eyes opened, slowly, finally, wide and pupils dilated in the darkness. When the tears came she squeezed them shut again, half-burying her face in the pillow, the cloth soon becoming warm and moist against her skin. Breathe, breathe... Careful, controlled breathing was reduced to ragged sobs of hopelessness and relief both, muffled. Her slender form shook, suddenly ridden with cold sweat under the covers.