A frightened little girl sat huddled in the dark corner of the small room quivering with fear, her dirty knees brought up right to her cheeks, her sticky hands covering her ears to muffle the terrifying sounds coming from the other room. Next to her, her younger brothers were crying as they held onto their mother, who held them close and hushed them, saying it would soon be ok and he couldn’t get near them. This was their sanctuary when their father came home drunk and angry. She was still too young to understand alcoholism, but not too young to feel the fear inside her every time she heard him shouting and breaking up things, every time they had to lock themselves inside this tiny room. She heard each chair crack against the table, she heard the cups and plates smashing on the floor, scattering all around the kitchen floor, which they would pick up later when he finally slept, exhausted after his drunken tantrum. They would come out only when they heard his loud snores coming from the bedroom.