She skips home merrily with her yellow lunchbox banging her tiny delicate knees while holding daddy’s calloused hands,

came home to a maid ironing daddy’s clothes but then wonders why they sleep in the master’s bedroom together.

Hearing panting voices downstairs, she dared not to peek. Mama said never to meddle with things you don’t understand.

Her young inquisitive mind decided she had to hide it to herself instead. All for mother, she whispered.

She grew with blows and bruises, showered with cuts and gauzes, grace with cramps and torments.

The ascending number of blows and wounds swelled together with daddy’s growing beer belly .

The thinner she grew, the greater apathy she undeservingly acquired.

The less space she occupies, the more he fills in.

"I’m never coming back.", her voice as it faded into a murmur.