Clayton lies in bed somewhere between sleep and being awake. The shouts from the other room esiclate. He grips his pillow in terror. He hates when his parents fight. It’s always at night when the rest of the house is silent.

Moments later he hears his daddy yell something really loud. He can’t make out exactly what he said. But it scared him none the less. His mom he can hear, crying. Her voice can be heard against his, but it is no match for his booming voice.

Clayton can hear them walking around the room, with their heavy footsteps. . He tries his best not to picture whats happening, in his mind. But sometimes it’s no use.

Warm tears slide down his cheek. Clayton’s heart fills with painful sadness. He wishes that he could sleep soundly, and that every night didn’t have to be a nightmare. He wishes that his parents wouldn’t fight for just one night. Clayton says a silent prayer, that his parents stop fighting.
Suddenly, he hears nothing. Sleep finds him. Finally he is warm and safe.