Invisible

She's screaming
again.
She should know by now:
screams just
encourage
him.

The screams seep through the walls
and inch into my skin, slowly, slowly.
I'm backed up as far as I can go.
Pressed into the opposite corner.
Curled into a protective ball.

But the screams
still
get to me.

My hand covers my mouth
stuffing back my own screams.
I should not even be
thinking about screaming.

It's not like he's doing it to me.

Her screams are cut off.
And I know he's pressing his hand
onto her mouth.
Just like I'm doing to myself.

The silence following
is - almost -
as terrible as her
terrified
pain-filled
hopeless
screams.

And here I am wishing.
Wishing I could

fight through the darkness
and pull her
away from him

pull her to safety

but it will
never
happen.