Hidden

I walk down the street, all alone. Exposed.

The road was shiny, wet with the now-ended rain. Trees, bare and naked with winter's wrath, were black with moisture.

I stopped. I didn't have to go home.

I sighed. Yes I do. It would just be worse if I didn't go.

So on to home I continued, dreading my every step.

I walked up the neighbor's driveway, unlatching the gate to the backyard and walking through the sopping wet grass. I slipped into the house, quietly sneaking upstairs to my room.

The old man was asleep, long lost in his drunken stupor.

I saw him, sprawled in his ragged armchair, an empty beer bottle clutched in his hand. He was snoring, meaning it would be hours before he awoke.

I was glad. It grew within, around my heart. I was safe.

I continued onto my room, carefully locking the door, reinforcing it.

Food was unnecessary when you were nobody. You just had to hide, hide in your room, far away from the abuse, neglect.

The danger.