I

The girl opens her eyes and finds herself lying on the bed. It takes her a moment to realize that this is not a dream: she was awakened by it.

She unconsciously touches the other side of the bed.

Empty. Then she hears her mother's voice from next door.

An ominous feeling surges up in her heart.

How long has it been since something like this happened? Half a year? Maybe even longer than that.

The girl rolls over to the edge of the bed, stretching her arm to pick up her phone from the floor. It's only 4:20.

She throws her phone to the foot of the bed and lies back on the bed, rolling over and over but can't fall back to sleep.

II

Since her childhood, the door of her father's room has often been closed. He only came out during mealtime. The mother always tried to open the door, even though sometimes she went in, she still failed.

Everything always starts with whispered quarreling, but then it develops into loud cursing, shrill screams, things flying and breaking. Even though she covers her ears tightly with her hands, the unbearable words still make their way through her ears.

It disappoints her that the door cannot keep all that away from her too.

Not knowing since when, she wakes up and finds herself shaking, dampened in sweat. She tried to recall what she dreamt of but failed. It continued for a long time before the dream became clearer and she could recall pieces of it.

Every night the same chaotic dreams.

There were times when she couldn't tell dreams apart from reality. She remembers kneeling on the ground pulling someone. Father or mother? She can't recall. She cries and begs for the screaming and shouting to stop, to whom she forgot. She was dragged into a dark room that doesn't seem to exist in her house. Always the same room with thousands of shredded photos of her and her parents. She shakes violently and closes her eyes to avoid the eyes staring at her in her imagination.

Crashing.

Always the crashing noise that wakes her.

She gave another look at the time. It's 4:50, still one hour and a half till the time to get up.

Suddenly, the sound of a chair being pushed on the floor made her jump. She tries to figure out whether it is from the neighbor upstairs or from her father's room.

The sound seems distant, so it can't be in her father's room. She comforts herself.

Just don't let it go back. She prays.

The sun still hasn't risen yet, and the room is shrouded in shadow. She closes her eyes but can still feel the darkness.

Eyes, eyes must be staring at me, she thinks.

She turns on the desk lamp. The sudden brightness catches her off guard, forcing her to close her eyes for a while to get used to the brightness.

She lets out a sigh of relief when every corner is lightened up. There are no eyes.

III

She noticed that her father starts to take the initiative to help out with chores. Sometimes when she came back from school, the figure preparing a meal in the kitchen is her father. She is quite surprised by this change.

She once overheard her parents whispering. She catches her father saying "...rectify my mistakes..." She wonders what mistakes her father made. But she doesn't care about the answer much, at least things are developing in a positive way.

His door no longer closes all the time. She sees him in the living room more frequently.

She couldn't help noticing that her mother is increasingly frequenting her father's room. This time, she closed it firmly behind her.

She never figures out what happened behind that door to cause such a significant change in her father and mother.

VI

Heavy footsteps next door snap her back to reality. Kelly immediately turns off the lamp and rolls over to her side of the bed, pretending to be asleep. She holds her breath and waits for the door to be opened.

But it doesn't. She hears a tiny cracking sound of the door opening and closing, but she might have mistaken it: her room's door isn't open. She keeps still for a while until the sound of the steps gradually fades away.

She stretches over to turn the lamp on again. She glanced at the clock. It's 5:30.

Her thoughts are floating away uncontrollably. She imagines her mother opening the door and expecting her to be surprised:

"When did you wake up, honey?"

"Around four," she replied, without looking up.

"What woke you up, honey?" Her mother asks cautiously, though she knows the answer well.

"Nothing, I woke naturally." Her voice is unnatural.

She wants her mother to feel guilty, to suffer from pain.

"I couldn't fall back to sleep when waking up at four, so I went to your father's room and talked to him," Mother tried to explain.
She remains in silence.
She guessed what had happened. What she couldn't stand is why they. She is not a child anymore. She has the right to know things.
"Father is doing the best he could, why can't you just leave it the way it is?"
Mother's face changed. Her smile faded away.
She knows she guessed right.
"You don't understand."
Same words. She hated it. Every time they just throw the three words at her.

V
Heavy footsteps again, it's the sound of getting out of the bed.
You need to be cool with this, okay? She keeps telling herself.
6:20. It's time for mom to wake me up.
As expected, she hears the steps approaching and sits straighter on the bed.
She is fully prepared to see her mother's reaction.
She waits.
The door opens. It's father.
"Where is mom?"