Where others fear to tread

The glint of hatred in her father's eyes was one the child had
learnt to recognise only too well. Frozen with terror, she crouched,
whimpering beneath the table, her hands firmly clasped over her ears,
as her mother's petrified screams tore through the house. Already the
bruises were beginning to darken the woman's skin, as blow after
agonising blow, his drunken fists reigned down upon her.

In the fading light, the toddler sobbed uncontrollably as her battered
mother was forced, roughly, to the ground. Helplessly pressed to the
rug beneath the powerful weight of her husband, Harriet's pleas for
mercy went unheeded. Cursing wildly, the enraged man clawed open her
dress, forcing himself hungrily between her parted thighs.

From where she was crouched, transfixed with confusion, the child could
only watch in horror as her father reached down into his trousers,
tugging his 'thing' into view. He was breathing heavily now, grunting
like a wild boar as he writhed and thrust himself against her
mother.

A fierce struggle followed, as the hysterical woman, frantically
fighting against his advances, sank her teeth deep into his shoulder.
Roaring, he staggered to his feet, seizing a vase from the mantel.
Seconds later he brought it crashing down against the terrified woman's
skull. A cold silence followed.

There would be no dinner again tonight?