Today we were out with Dad and his two friends. Their names are Dream and Berry.

Dream hung around Dad.

He was always happy and smiling.

I didn't like him.

He always gave Papa nasty looks when no one was paying attention.

Berry was Papas best friend but also hung around Dad.

He's very nice.

But he doesn't believe me.

I told him how bad Dad and Papas fights can be.

Blood. Glass. Holes through the walls.

He told me I was exaggerating it. Told Dad not to let me watch so much Tv.

"A six year old shouldn't have such a violent imagination!" He huffed.

Ink waved with a chuckle. "I know. It's all of those crime shows he watches! Thinks every argument Error and I have is like we're murdering each other." They laughed it off.

He lied.

I've seen the blood on the floor.

Papa crying on the couch while Dad puts me and my blissfully unaware brothers to bed.

Dad passed out on the floor and Papa trying to wake him up. Begging for him to wake up.

Papa with a claw mark on his cheek. Dad with a black eye. Papa with a cracked jaw. Dad with a broken arm.

I've seen. I've told.

But no one believes a child.