I remembered approaching the bright kitchen along the dark hall, hearing the noises coming from in there. My mother’s voice was angry but quiet, as though she thought I was still asleep and was trying to keep me safe from this, but the man’s voice was loud and uncaring. All their words overlapped. I couldn’t make out what either of them was saying, only that it was ugly, and that it was building towards a crescendo – accelerating towards something awful. The kitchen doorway. I reached it just in time to see the man’s red face contorted in rage and hatred as he threw the glass at my mother as
...more
