When I woke up, the bright, frowning moon peered into our window. Looking out my bedroom window, which I shared with my four-year-old brother and my two-year-old sister, I prayed that the yelling would stop soon. Like most of my prayers, it wasn’t answered. My mother was screaming and my father was yelling and when the hitting started it was almost a relief. I was scared for my mother, but I was also relieved that my Dad didn’t come into our bedroom. As the big brother, I had to protect my brother and sister. They had jumped into my bed when the screaming had started.
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