Lily ran upstairs and crumpled into her bedroom door. She carefully curled herself into a ball and sat there, on the hard wood floor, rocking back and forth. She sharply drew air in, then expelled it with a hiss in time with her rocking.
She pressed her hands tightly to her ears, blocking out the tiniest fragment of sound.
Bang. Scream. A loud, low shout. The sound her jump-rope made when she swung it in the air. Sobbing. Another jump-rope sound. Silence.
Lily swung her arm sideways, groping for the marionette her father had given her for her 8th birthday. Standing, she raised the wooden pinocchio in the air and hurled it to the ground as hard as she could. Lily glared at the thing as it lay there, broken.