PANDEMONIUM

I can hear the cracking of the walls. I can hear the squeaking of the concrete. It’s a scene of an earthquake except there is no any natural calamity. The wind outside is calm. But the house is shaking and walls are cracking and floors are breaking and house posts are giving up. I hug my comfort pillow as I lay on my bed. I hug my comfort pillow tighter. I try to ignore the chaos. I shut my eyes close and imagine that wonderful place. That wonderful place I go to whenever I am sad, lonely or down. I tried and I tried. Frustrations sink in, I burst into tears. Hot tears flowed as the destruction of my house continues. And then amidst this turmoil, I heard shouting, a man and a woman fighting. I heard these voices before. The voices were so damn familiar. I heard them before. But where? Mum? Daddy? Yes. The voices were from my parents. They are fighting in the living room. They are in a huge fight that the books on my shelves are falling, picture frames on the wall are swaying, and the things on my tables are stumbling. STOP! I plead. STOP!! But I produced no sound. STOP! STOP!! STOP! But not a word left my lips. I cried. I cried until sleep rescued me. When I woke up, my house was tarnished, destroyed. On the ground were the bits and pieces. All of what was once made up my house was on the ground; useless, unworthy, trash.