Head down and hands buried in my pockets, I feel the fresh autumn breeze course through my lungs. I've always loved fall. I love the feeling of the wind combing through my hair,  the sound of leaves rustling together and dancing until they land gracefully on the ground. I love the colours - the golds and the browns and the oranges and the reds.

I'm walking home from school, my boots sinking into the dry leaves, breaking underneath the weight of my feet. My bag feels light against my back. I look around the neighbourhood, watching the leaves float through the air, setting sail towards the ground. From a distance, I can see my house. It's not as big as it probably should be for a family of seven and soon to be eight. There is always noise, whether it's by the clatter of dishes or the sounds of screaming children, there is always something. Never silence, except for the days Grandma isn't home. Then, it's nothing but quiet. Nobody wants to step on Ma's toes.

I notice it's quiet as I walk because I can't hear any muffled noise coming from the house. The walls are thin in our home. You can hear everything. You can hear the neighbours when they throw parties, you can hear the dogs barking from across the street, and without a doubt, you can hear Evelyn Chastain when she scolds one of her seven kids. I make my way indoors, listening to the floor creak as my foot lands on the wooden ground. Grandma doesn't call my name or greet me, which is odd, because she usually does. Her voice is deep and intimidating, and she looks like an intimidating woman, too. She's a big woman - her belly is inflated and round and her arms are the size of her head. She's a sweet woman, though, and she's the sole reason our household isn't crumbling. I hang my jacket and slip off my boots, my legs a little numb from all the walking I'd done. My school is a solid forty-five minutes away. Maybe more.

"Margo!" Ma calls. "Margo, come here!"

I want to ignore it. I really do, but I make my way to the kitchen anyway. Lila is crying. She's crying silently, into the woolen sleeves of her sweater. She's only a few years younger than me, but still, I feel somewhat protective of her. I look at Ma, and I'm angry. Angry, but also a little afraid. I straighten my posture in an attempt at seeming strong and confident. "What's going on?" I ask.

Ma doesn't answer me. She grabs me by the arm, firmly, and stares into my eyes. She's beautiful - not in the pretty way - and she looks more like me than she does Lila. She's got a slim figure and wavy brown hair that grows over her shoulders. Her eyes are grey, just like the clouds of smoke she breathes out when she sucks on cigarettes in the backyard. Grey, just like mine.

I look deep into her eyes, maintaining my courage, trying to figure out what she wants. The grip on my arm becomes tighter, Ma's fingernails digging into my skin.

"Demon," she mutters. She grabs a fistful of my hair and shoves me forward, taking me into the main bedroom. The confidence is gone. It vanishes like when you're trying to catch a fruit fly, and you're determined to keep your eye on it, but the fruit fly is so damn small it eventually fades into the background, and just like that, it's gone. It's a shitty simile, but it's the best I can describe it. My heart is beating now. Fast. "On your knees."

I comply anyway, falling to my knees and crawling to the corner of the room, pressing my nose between the walls. I wait, squeezing my eyes shut, waiting for something to happen.

"Ma... It's me, Margo."

"Demon."

There's a strap being made in the sewing machine. Ma gets a hold of it and begins to hit me with the metal end, shouting, "Get out of my child! Get out!" over and over again.

"Ma, please!" I try.

"Get out!"

And then, I break. I try and stifle my sobs with the palm of my hand. I don't want to scare David. Most of all, I don't want to scare Lila. I can feel tears falling off my chin, but it doesn't distract me from the sharp pain bruising my back and shoulders. I can't handle the pain anymore. It's searing. It's unbearable.

"Lila!" I cry. "Lila, help! Lila, stop her!"

But alas, Lila doesn't come to my aid. She's standing in the doorway, watching her mother belt her sister repeatedly, but she does not intervene. I wonder if Lila can feel the rawness of the sting, the throbbing ache pulsing through my skin. I close my eyes and ball my fists in tight, using all of my strength and anger, clenching my jaw so tight I think my teeth might chip. I stay tense like that for a while until I finally hear a voice I'd been longing to hear.

Grandma grabs Ma by the arms and pulls her off of me. Ma's screaming, kicking, punching. She's insisting I'm a demon.

"Jesus, Evelyn! Calm yourself! You're a grown woman and I can't even leave you alone with your children for a half a day!"

I watch Ma for no more than a few seconds, watching her thrash in Grandma's arms like a screaming child. I get up, feeling a little dazed but still conscious of the swelling in my back. Lila grabs me and tries to talk to me, but I shove past her. I can't think. I can't speak. I don't want Lila to comfort me. I don't need it.

I make my way to my room, feeling a lump grow in my throat. I will myself not to cry, but the sharp pain in my shoulders keeps tugging at me, urging me to scream.

I already know why Ma did what she did. They told her to.

A suffocating feeling consumes me, like someone is sitting on my chest. I can't breathe. I can't control myself. I scream.

I pull at my hair and scream, collapsing into tears and cursing at God for everything I've ever known. I scream until my lungs are burning and I can no longer feel or think or cry. I need escape. I glance at the window, remembering what Edward once told me.

If ever I needed someone, he was there.

I need him.

I press my palms to the ground and push myself up, wincing at the sting in my shoulders. I go to the window, thrust the tips of my fingers underneath and slide it open. 

I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the fresh autumn breeze, tears drying onto my cheeks. I want to cry again. The pain lingers in my chest and I want to cry again. I feel like I've lost all of my strength - all of my will to drive forward. I close my eyes. I take another breath.

I don't cry, and I don't turn back.

Ma's going to be fine, I think. Ma's going to snap out of it and be just, just fine.