Chapter 3: Lock

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The small child slid from her bed and onto the cold floor. She was frightened, part of her wanted to hide under the covers and wait for the shouting and crying to stop, but the other part of her needed to know what was going on. She cracked her door open and striking blue eyes peaked through the slit. The only thing she could see were shadows moving around in the hallway, so she crept forward.

    She didn't like the man that was in her living room. He always smelt bad and he looked at her funny, but mummy liked him. She kept him around all the time, anyway. She kinda started to smell like him a little and she didn't like it.

    She crouched onto her hands and knees and looked around the wall to see the man gripping her mummy's wrists and shouting in her face. She began to cry in fear and ran out.

    "No!" she screamed, running towards the man.

    "Honey, no," her mother, who the man had let go when he saw the child, grabbed her before she could reach him. The man stood with his arms crossed and glared at them.

    "Mummy, he was hurting you," the six year old whimpered.

    "No, no. It's okay. I'm okay," she said, shushing her and pushing her black curls behind her ear. The man huffed.

    "Get control of your kid, Bree." with that he was out the door and the two females were alone.

    "Come on, sweetie, let's get you back to bed."

    Sibley's eyes flew open and she sat up. She didn't often dream about her mother. After all, she had trauma much worse than that for her mind to use against her and the abuse she and her mother suffered was old news. Of course, the only two hours of sleep she was able to get were filled with memories she'd rather forget. She sighed and got up, walking to the kitchen to start breakfast, trying not to think about the dream or her own daughter. She prayed to God she would do a better job. That unlike both of her parents, she could actually protect Willa from that kind of pain. If she had it her way, the worse pain her daughter would ever experience would be normal, grief over a loved one that lived a long life, a broken heart from some stupid boy (or girl), a failed test. No abuse or kidnappings or suicides.

    Mary was sitting on the floor next to Willamina's kiddy table and was coloring a page with her and John was in the kitchen making tea. Sibley smiled softly as she walked over and kissed her daughter on the head.

    "Morning, everyone," she said softly.

    "Morning, love." Mary stood up and hugged Sibley and Willamina demanded she sit back down and finish coloring. Sibley snickered and walked into the kitchen to speak with John.

    "Hey, thank you for staying over last night. I know I was a mess." Sibley muttered, rubbing at her swollen eyes.

    "Of course," he said. Sibley looked over the counter where Mary was now listening to Willamina ramble off some story.

    "So were you able to propose last night?" she whispered. John smiled.

    "Yeah. Not at the restaurant, your father of course had to step in while I was asking, but I asked her after you went to bed." he said.

    "So, I'm guessing she said yes?" Sibley grinned and looked over, seeing the ring before John could respond.

    "Of course," he said.

    "So, uh, Dad comment on the facial hair?" she asked. John gave her a look. She had been bugging him about that thing for ages.

    "Yes, apparently everyone hates it!" he exclaimed walking away. She laughed and poured herself some tea.

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