The quarrel began at 9. Curious as we might have been, we remained awfully silent for a group of teenage girls. The noise grew louder… it seemed almost impossible to comprehend the words we heard; a blabber it seemed. My eldest sister stood an inch away from the door, peeping – biting her lip fretfully. The rest of us keenly sat in anticipation waiting to hear about the dispute. They bellowed, they threw things, they cursed at each other; yet the room never seemed more serene.
All of sudden we heard something crack! A vase, perhaps a glass – it was hard to say, the thundering fall brew nothing but unwanted apprehension and anxiety into the somewhat tranquil room. We all rushed to have a sneak peek. The noise forcefully rose through the bitter atmosphere followed by a dreadful scream… it was our dear aunt, Jolie. What seemed like the perfect cousin before now had the audacity to strangle his own mother! How can someone be so ruthless?
We continued to watch in terror as he tormented her, heartless and pitiless. The naked air grew heavier and intense. We covered our mouths in despair and in time, the havoc swallowed us in. Too overwhelmed by the devastation, I found it rather difficult to move nor speak.
The opportunity to flee awaited all of us. We mutely shut the door and whispered amongst ourselves. We heard thumping sounds punching through the frail walls like flying boulders. My eldest sister Phoebe cornered herself with endless tears and painful headaches. The company of her sisters somewhat enhanced her mood, yet after all the tears and all the disheartened souls that encircled her, she felt more exhaust than she can possibly handle.