C29 29

LILIANA

I'm thirteen again.

I stand in a corner of the room shaking as my mother begins a racket, thrashing our living room and wagging an angry finger at me from time to time.

Her breath stinks of local rum and cigarettes, that I am certain of. My school bag has been flung, table upturned and I remain where I am for fear of her pouncing upon me should I try to call for help