Our room was dark that night.

It was past ten, my sister and I silent amongst the voices downstairs. I heard Andy, his current girlfriend, screaming at our dad about us, and how inconvenient and disobedient we were. My dad was silent. He did not defend us.

We could hear her say, “If they weren’t your kids, they’d be out on the streets.” I looked toward Rebecca though the darkness.

I asked quietly, “Are you awake?”

“How could I sleep?”

I nodded in agreement, well aware that she could not see me.

There was a beam of light beneath the door, seeping in from the hall, illuminating the first foot of our room. I heard Becca push back her sheets, rising to her feet and tiptoeing to the door slowly. She turned the doorknob and opened the door with cautious grace, straining to discern what the voices downstairs were saying, the noise suddenly quiet.

I assumed there wasn’t anything to hear, because she flipped the hallway light switch, shadows enveloping the space. She eased the door closed once again, stumbling towards her bed.

I drew my covers up to my face, hoping to get a second of relief against the biting cold of the room. I also, somehow, hoped it would swallow me whole.