That tale unheard

    They were bickering again. She crept into her usual spot and curled up into the fetal position as always. She pulled the curtains close, so it felt like she was in a different room. Not the one she was in. Not the one that was in that house. Not in that house where they were shouting profanities and regret. How could they regret? What did they regret? She existed. She was real. She was there. Did that count for nothing? Did it count for nothing that she could hear every single word, understood or not, she could hear every single word? She could hear the sobs and the futile pleadings. She could hear the defenseless household items flung across the adjacent room. She was there. Didn't they know? Didn't they care? Didn't it matter? Was her existence a mere mistake that they could choose to ignore whenever they decided? She fought back her tears, cupped her little hands around her ears and snuggled closer to the wall. The wall was cold. She shuffled about trying to get into a comfortable position. She shut her eyes. She hummed to herself, trying to drown out the noise. But she could feel it. She could feel their tense fighting going on. She wished, in that one moment, to disappear. She wished she never came to be. Perhaps then, they would have nothing to bicker about. Perhaps then, they could be happy. Perhaps then, the pain would stop.