Child of Woe

"So the old man was home again. He could be heard roaring and then grumbling and then roaring again, cursing profusely in his drunken stupor, growling as he stumbled around the lower level. The children and the mother made room for him, much as one wittingly gets out of the way of a big, unfriendly animal. But none of these people were the animal's prey.

Upstairs, the telltale slapping of the screen door sent a silent scream of alarm through the child. He jumped up in a single reflexive motion from his cozy place by the light on the floor and slipped through the bedroom door and far back into the corner to the window. He had learned to move quickly, before the old man could hear him leaving the vent. He had learned not to hide under the covers. He had learned not to hide at all. It was useless."