The World Behind Closed Doors - Chapter 3
Grey closed the door to her small bedroom without a sound. There was no telling what mood her father would be in tonight. I followed her to the single bed covered in a bedspread that would've catered for an eight year old girl. The mermaids on it were faded with age and years of washing. Blood stains on it left stories she chose not to remember. Her head fell into the matching pillow, her hair serving as a curtain to protect her from monsters only she knew existed. She wrapped her thin and severely bruised arms around herself.
Something below the room startled her and she sat up straight.
"Bad mood," Grey guessed, her body aching already. She bounded down the stairs, two at a time and found her father in the kitchen, a bottle of Whiskey shattered on the floor.
"Grey, my girl. Help your silly old dad out, won't you?" He spoke with a voice that was calming and sweet. A voice that didn't belong to him.
"Of course, Daddy." She spoke edgily, the smallest thing could set him off in a second