The night was dark and so was my bedroom. My curtains flew beside the window and danced in the wanton wind. I know it is happening again. The shrill voiced cry of Samanta was evidently flesh crawling. I am standing beside the first floor window of my house looking down on the ground floor of the house beside us. Lights were still on yet the curtains were pulled tight blocking my view inside. Each one sending a shudder down my spine. The sound of something slapping hard on a surface or rather skin would suffice the sentance. Amazing but I wondered for once that am I the only one who can hear these sound for the whole neighbourhood seem lifeless or to be overlapped by a fog of darkness. The sounds stopped at three in the morning when I lay on my bed feeling dizzy and nauseous until I drifted away.

The next morning the first thing I did except brushing was run to the next house and sneak in through the back window, into the room of my only best friend, Samanta. She was huddled in a corner with a sheet covering her from the harsh cold. I could only make out her face, which hung down. she was still sobbing. Her thick black coloured hair was a mess and her skin as pale as dark blue.

"Rise and shine!" I said with a fake smile trying to relieve the mood. Her eyes scanned the room and landed on me with which she again started crying again. My face fell. She might be hurt. Just like she always is.

I sat down beside her and checked her hands which was as usually bruised. Even her face seemed bruised which was bad. Very bad.

"I did not do anything...I...I was caring...the soup....and it fell", she sobbed in my chest hugging me close.I felt helpless and pathetic. My hands ran down her hair providing a safe cavern or I at least hope that I did. She keep on sobbing. A weird acceptance in her sob.

After shushing and soothing her for several minutes she eventually fell asleep.

I crept of her house and entered mine. My heart was heavy. That night I told my parents about the abuse my friend was facing. However as usually no matter how much I tried to console them they had a single sentence which they chanted again and again. Their exact words was,"It's their family problem, dear. If she needs any help, tell her to call the police straight away but let us not interfere in their family matter and I know you won't too."

I know that I am a six year old girl yet still I can understand this simple thing that this was child abuse that my best friend was facing, however none of my family will accept that. How weird? Even a six year old is more intelligent than her family. Meanwhile Samantha stopped going to school and the beatings got worse day by day. I stood at my window every night, sleep being a distant thought. Tear streaked my face everytime I heard Samantha scream.

A week later, when I crept at her room I did not find her in her room, and obviously did not have the courage to face her father through the front door and enquire about her. So frustrated, as I was and tensed I went back home and took off to school. Yesterday the beatings and screaming had been aweful, even a few neighbour turned on their lights to see what was happening, but of course none was there to help. I was so angry with them.

I still remember not before a year ago, Samanta was such a cheerfull girl, giddy with spirit and always adventurous. However, her mother was deceased in a car accident soon after which the property was inherited by her father. Though I have heard Samanta say that her father was a major jerk and had been kicked out of the house by her mother when she was just four. Now it has been a year she is staying with him and she had been admitted to the hospital thrice. Last time had been very bad. I remember she had fractures on her wrist. However her father showed no mercy and said she'd fell from the staircase. "A careless stupid child!", was his exact words.

I wondered why was she not in her room though. I was almost shivering thinking about the possibilities. Upon returning home from school, there was a strange atmosphere at home. My parents were talking among themselves in a hurrid air. Seeing me, my mother approached me with a sad tone and melancholic mood. She started,"I am so sorry dear but Samanta was admitted to the hospital yesterday night again and she had major brain damage, her skull was cracked. She had her head pounced on the wall by her father, and.......and she passed away this morning." As she finished it felt like someone had squeezed my lungs restricting my breathing. My parents took me to the hospital. I stared at her for a full few minutes taking in her exaggerated conditions. Devastated I left the room and had a sudden urge to vomit, which vanished the moment I saw her father. He was being taken by the police. I was filled with disgust when I saw him.

Later I learned that as Samanta's father could not explain her injuries as a fall from the window, so he had been taken into custody by the police. Some of the neighbour became a witness against her father. A thought stuck my mind, if only they could have done that earlier, then maybe Samanta had been alive today. Samanta's body was cremated but her fond memories still lingers and resides in my heart. Thinking of the good time we had together brings a smile on my face. A year later, I learnt that Samanta's father died of multiple organ failure due to over consumption of alcohol.