Genevieve Newsome woke from a restless sleep. It wasn’t a gradual awakening either. An abrupt scream pierced Ginny’s ears, jerking her into consciousness. The young girl rubbed her eyes and yawned, visibly tired from her late night. Another cry vibrated through the home, and Ginny’s curiosity and overwhelming sense of dread pulled Ginny fully awake, like a slap to the cheek.

Ginny fell out of bed, her legs twisted in the blankets but she quickly untangled herself and dashed to the door. She threw it open and peeked her head around the corner. Ginny brushed away her blue-black hair, tucking it behind her ears so she could fully see. The hallway in front of her room was one of the most used, and it was currently dark, except for the pool of light escaping from the stairway. Ginny scanned the empty hallway, barely letting her eyes rest on the pictures and the other decorations. For a second, she was lost on what had caused the scream, but that problem soon disappeared.

Hushed whispers made their way to Ginny’s ears, and were joined by small whimpers. Ginny’s heart skipped a beat; she knew exactly what was going on.

Ginny sprinted down to the hall, her stomach twisting itself into knots. When she reached her younger brother, Samuel’s, door, Ginny skidded to a halt, her breathing coming out fast. Her hand hesitated over the door knob. Last time she did this, Ginny ended up with a bruise that covered nearly her whole face, and it took about three layers of foundation to cover it fully. After a deep, shaky breath, and another moment of hesitation, Ginny grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door open.

The only light source in the room was Samuel’s star night-light, so the small room wasn’t fully illuminated; however, the twelve-year old standing in the door could see enough. Samuel was curled up tight, like a ball in the corner of his twin sized bed. What worried Ginny more was the other figure in the room. He stood over the five-year old, an empty bottle in his hand.

Ginny’s whole body was shaking with fear. This had happened too many times before, and too many times before, Ginny was too afraid to do anything. She ran forward and grabbed at the figure’s arm. The frightened child yanked her father back, trying to put as much distance between Samuel and him as possible. For a minute, in his drunken state, the man didn’t object much.

“Get away!” Ginny cried desperately, still pulling at his arm, “Stay away from Sammy!”

Unfortunately, Jeremiah Newsome snapped out of his daze at Ginny’s voice. Ripping his arm out of his daughter’s grip, Jeremiah sneered at her. Ginny could smell the alcohol coming off him in waves. It was a horrible stench that filled Ginny’s nose, nearly making her gag, but the girl stood her ground.

“I thought little girls were supposed to be asleep this time of night,” the drunk man crooned, a sloppy smile plastered on his face.

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, and bit the inside of her cheek. Giving a snarky response to Jeremiah would do no good for her. Ginny’s chocolate brown eyes traveled across the dark room, and once again, landed on Samuel.

Eyeing her ‘father’, Ginny took a step away from him. His eyes were glazed over, and when he did nothing but stand in the same spot, swaying slightly and chuckling at the air, Ginny scrambled over to her brother. She climbed up into the bed, resisting the urge to tackle him in a protective hug. Instead, Ginny tenderly pulled the little boy into her arms and began to smooth down his raven-black hair. Both of their small bodies shook with fear, and as the silence drew on, the twelve-year old realized that she had to step up and protect her little brother. Her brother that was barely five years old.

It frightened Ginny what would happen if she and her brother stayed in this place where they had to look over their shoulder at every turn. It already had changed them, in many ways that Ginny would’ve not thought of before. Ginny and Samuel needed to find a way to escape from this nightmare, and Ginny was the one who had to step up and find their freedom.

Jeremiah once again snapped out of his drunken daze, his expression turning vicious. He staggered towards his children, his face red and scrunched up with rage. “Obedient little girls go to bed when they’re told!” his voice rattled through Ginny and Samuel’s ears. They were in for it now.

Towering over Ginny and Samuel, he raised the hand that held the empty, but still dangerous, bottle. Not being sure what to anticipate for Jeremiah’s behavior, Ginny shoved Samuel off the bed, hitting the floor with a thump. The sibling made only eye contact, not a word going between them. In a quickness that surprised everyone in the child’s room, the five-year old quickly rolled underneath the twin-sized bed, where he could stay safe, protected from the monster above. Jeremiah, confused by the commotion, swung the raised bottle down, rage fueling his muscles to put power behind it. Ginny screamed as the hand came crashing down on her. Tensing up, Ginny waited for the shards of glass to rain down.

Smash. The sound of the expected broken glass followed Ginny’s scream. The bottle hitting Ginny in the shoulder, instead of the head, knocked her flat on the bed. When the twelve-year old dared to open her eyes, she saw only darkness. The injured child let out a cry of distress and felt a rough hand land on her back, forcing her to remain face down. Thinking the worst, Ginny thrashed in her spot, screaming. She heard Jeremiah cursing, and she felt him trying to hold her down, but Ginny did everything in her power to keep him from touching her.

“Shut it!” Jeremiah’s voice was thunderous, and the windows were vibrating because of the volume. “Shut it ya, stupid little girl!”

The drunk man became panicked as Ginny continued to scream. If the neighbors heard, they would surely call the cops, and Jeremiah would be sent to jail. Scrambling to find a way to force Ginny into silence, Jeremiah jerked Samuel out from his hiding place under the bed.

“If ya don’t stop screamin’, I’ll break his arm!” Jeremiah threatened. Samuel cried out in distress, and Ginny automatically silenced herself. She pulled her knees to her chest, and glared at her father.

“Do what you want to me, but hurt him, and I’ll do something that’ll make you regret everything you have ever done to me and Sammy.”

Jeremiah let out a harsh laugh, “What'll ya do to me girly? I’m twice yer size.” The drunk man smirked, “Come on, I dare ya. Do it!” Either to prove his point, or just because he could, Jeremiah tightened his grip around Samuel’s arm, and the small boy let out an ear-splitting scream.

“Stop!” Ginny shrieked. Grinning, Jeremiah slightly released Samuel’s arm. The five-year old let out multiple whimpers of pain, but Jeremiah silenced him with a glare.

“Please, don’t hurt him,” Ginny pleaded with her father.

Jeremiah was still smirking, for he knew that he had won. “Okay. But only ‘cause ya asked so nicely.”

“Just let go of Sammy,” Ginny said. After a second, she added in a whisper, “Please.”

Jeremiah laughed, his voice harsh. He shoved Samuel forward and he collapsed in front of the bed, clutching his arm. Ginny automatically dropped to the floor and pulled her little brother into her arms once more. She smoothed back his hair and cupped his cheek. He looked up at her, his russet eyes filled with tears. Ginny let out a sob and pulled Samuel closer. The two stayed like this for a while, still as stone, and it looked like they were barely even breathing. Satisfied that his daughter and son would stay quiet, Jeremiah left the room. A couple of minutes after he did, Ginny and Samuel slowly, and noiselessly broke apart. Ginny got to her feet, shakily, and pulled Samuel to his. Samuel stumbled slightly, but Ginny quickly steadied him.

The siblings stared at each other, an unspoken conversation happening between the two. They crept out of Samuel’s room, and slowly made their way downstairs.

Another loud crash broke the silence in the house, followed by a string of swear words that had Ginny quickly covering Samuel’s ears, though he had heard them many times before. Even in the dark situation, Samuel couldn’t help but give his older sister a ‘seriously?’ look. Ginny felt her heart fly at Samuel’s personality coming out, but it didn’t stop the twelve-year old from smirking and ruffling her brother’s hair.

With the light-hearted moment gone, the Newsome children became serious once more and slowly began to creep down the rickety stairs, letting their own stray curse word slip when a particularly loud step nearly got them caught.

“Sammy, you’re smaller. Run across the kitchen, quietly, and grab the phone,” Ginny instructed the five-year old. “Can you do that?”

Samuel nearly snorted, but chose instead to simply nod his head, “Of-of course I-I ca-can do that.” he stuttered. It wasn’t on purpose, nor was it because he was afraid. Jeremiah had caused it when one night when he had a little too much to drink. Samuel was much younger, so he didn’t fully know when not to bother their ‘father’. To put it… nicely, Samuel now avoided Jeremiah when he was in that wasted, befuddled state. Which was quite often.

Ginny adopted a small grin on her face as Samuel easily darted through the kitchen and back to the stairs. With his dark hair and Batman pajamas, he could have easily been lost in the dark.

When Samuel reached Ginny, she nearly snatched the phone from his hands in relief. Their salvation was almost there.

Apparently, the Newsome children’s happiness never got to last long. An enraged shout drew Ginny and Samuel’s attention back to the kitchen, where they could see their father. He saw them. spitting a couple more swears at the pair, before angrily grabbing the closest weapon. To Ginny and Samuel’s luck, it was a sharp, and very dangerous knife. Jeremiah gripped it hard and began to advance towards the two children.

Samuel screamed at the sight, and Ginny grabbed his hand. They dashed up the stairs, Jeremiah following at a slower, drunk pace. Making another split-second decision, Ginny pulled Samuel down the still dark hall and into her closet, where they hid and pulled out the phone. Ginny felt her heart pound as she dialed the three numbers. Nine. One. One.

Beep...

“911, what’s your emergency?” A male voice answered the other end of the line. It was deep, but gentle and kind.

“Hi, hello. My name is Genevieve Newsome. I’m in my closet with my little brother, Samuel Newsome. We live with our father, and he drinks almost every night. He hits me and Sammy sometimes. No, a lot.” Ginny’s voice was coming out frantic and fast.

“Okay, is he coming after you right now? Are either one of you hurt?”

“Yes, and uh, he’s got a knife. He saw us with the phone, but he didn’t see where we hid. And I, um... “ Ginny trailed off, and she did a quick check of herself and Samuel, “I was cut by a bottle, but Sammy’s not hurt.”

“Okay. I’m sending people over to your house right away. Is your mother home?”

“No,” Ginny replied quietly. “She died. That’s why we’re with Jeremiah. He wasn’t like this before Mom died. It was a car crash, and he thinks it’s his fault. After the funeral, he started drinking, and became aggressive.”

“Alright. Just stay in your closet and don’t let your father come in. Hang tight. I’m going to stay on the line with you until they get there,” he reassured her.

Ginny and Samuel sat in the small closet, hugging the other close. Every couple of seconds, they could hear angry shouts and multiple bangs, but Jeremiah either got bored, or he was too drunk to actually find the siblings in their hiding spot.

Minutes ticked by, but eventually, Ginny and Samuel heard the police sirens in front of their house. They nearly screamed as a group of shouts was met by a couple of gunshots, but neither children could say if their ‘father’ was hit.

After a couple more minutes, a light came on in Ginny’s room, and a woman pulled open Ginny’s closet door, revealing the two shaking children. The police officer led the Newsome children to the front lawn, where Jeremiah was being handcuffed, uninjured, but furious.

Ginny watched with a small spark of hope as Jeremiah was taken away in the flashing vehicle. She held tightly onto Samuel, who in return, would not let go of her legs.

The horror was over, and the siblings survived to tell their tale. In her moment of relaxation, Ginny felt a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up to see the face of a dark-skinned woman. She had a kind smile and loving eyes.

“Hello Genevieve, Samuel,” The woman said, “My name is Julie Weatherby, and I’m here from the Social Services.”

Ginny nodded slowly, “Are we going to an orphanage?”

“Eventually, I’m sorry to say, you and your brother are,” Ms. Julie replied.

Shaking her head, Ginny let out a soft laugh, “With Mother being gone, anywhere is better than with him.” Samuel nodded his head in agreement but didn’t say anything.

Ms. Julie let out a soft “Of course,” and led the two siblings to the car, taking them to where they would, hopefully, be adopted or put into a foster home.

Surely, they would get to stay together.

Right?