Helpless

There was only one rule: don’t open the door.

Connor hugged the phone to his chest as he trembled, counting back from thirty.

The argument was getting louder and his father was getting angrier, as he always did when he’d come to visit uninvited.

His mother had warned him that when his father turned up, he was to keep his bedroom door closed, no matter what.

‘It never lasts long, thirty seconds and he’ll be gone again, so stay in your room.’

But a minute had passed already, and she wasn’t back yet to tell him it was okay, with her hair a mess and a new shiner.

Connor flinched at the sound of fist on flesh as tears streamed down his face. He looked down at the phone. She’d never said anything about not calling the police. His bedroom door rattled as something hit it. His mother screamed.

His fingers shook as he dialled. The ringing echoed around the room, he gasped and cowered at the end of his bed, trying to muffle the noise.

‘911. Tell me exactly what’s happened.’

‘I need the police.' Connor whispered desperately. ‘My dad’s hurting my mum.’ He hurriedly gave his address.

He heard his mother begin to beg on the other side. He was desperate to go to her. His heart ached terribly. He needed his mum.

‘Help's on the way, be brave.’

Connor shrieked in terror as an ear-piercing bang rang out. Something slid down his door and landed with a thud at the bottom.

His mother’s hair poked through the gap underneath as blood flowed into his room staining the carpet. Everything fell silent.

Connor's lip trembled.

‘It’s too late,’ he whispered, dropping the phone. With wide eyes, he stared at his bedroom door and watched the handle turn, terrified.