En la paz (At peace)

The room was dark. Dark rooms were always nice when Uncle Sleep was at hand. Tonight, however, he had called in sick. "Anita, you are the only friend I have tonight." Paz curled up tight, in his favourite corner, with his head resting on his bent knees. Anita was propped up beside him, as always, against the rails of the bedstead. He looked at Anita, and then at the closed door of his bedroom. "Why do they do that?" he asked, almost expecting Anita to answer back. Anita maintained her fuzzy noncommittal smile.

He could hear his mother scream, "How dare you?" The sudden sound made by a glass hitting the marble floor seemed to prick pins into the velvet darkness covering him. His tiny palm clutched Anita's arm, hard. "I am leaving. I don't have to stand here and listen to you ranting." "Daddy is always so nice, except when he is shouting at mommy." Anita's eyes shone brilliantly in the dark, reflecting the streetlight which sneaked in through the half open window. "Go! Run away... to her. I know you don't care for us anymore. Not me, not Paz. Go oooh!"

Screams and stifled cries. Paz was used to these sounds. The voices receded, Paz looked up and Anita seemed to fall to her side, tired with all the hullabaloo. Paz caught hold of Anita's toe and got down from the bed, dragging her to the door. "Tell me why? You cannot just walk out. You coward!" Paz froze in his tracks. His bare feet felt uncomfortable on the cold floor. Anita seemed to tug at his hands, so he let her fall to the floor. Paz could only think, "Why? Why? Why?" As if in answer to the question hammering away in his head incessantly, footsteps echoed. "I am going! Do you hear? I am going away... for ever. And I will come back for Paz. You are not fit to raise a child." "Never..." Paz heard the familiar click of the front door opening, and just then a loud car horn rang out. Startled, Paz stepped on Anita.