Carly was hiding in the closet again clutching an old dirty stuffed rabbit and a tattered pink blanket. The closet was small, dark and held the stench of dried blood mixed with other smells Carly couldn't identify.

Carly couldn't remember the last time she had gone to school. She wondered if any of her friends missed her. Last week the police had come to the house to question her mother about her absence from school. They had threatened to throw her in jail if Carly wasn't back in school the following week. But nothing had changed much since that last visit.

Her mother still drank every night before bed so that by morning she was too sick to get up. Carly would dress herself and get her own breakfast. But school was too far to walk and the bus didn't come around her neighborhood.

She loved school. It was a happy place for her. And her teacher was so nice. And gentle to. That's what Carly liked most about her. She could talk to Ms. Kendall about anything. Even about being afraid.. Carly was sure that it was Ms. Kendall's fault that the police had come. But it was okay. She was glad they came.

Carly heard her mother puttering around in the kitchen slamming pots and pans down on the stove in an attempt to prepare the evening meal.

The slamming of the front door echoed through the house. Carly stiffened as she heard the clumping of her father's footsteps against the rotting wood floor. He was a large man and he had big, strong hands. He was mean too. He had eyes that were scary. Carly didn't like him very much. She was afraid of him.

Carly jumped at the sound of a chair toppling over on the lanoleum in the kitchen followed by a shattering of glass. Carly pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She began to rock back and forth. Her body trembled uncontrollably. There was a loud scream but Carly wasn't sure if it was her mother's or her own.

Then the noise grew louder, more violent. The screams were piercing. Carly squinted her eyes tightly shut and covered her ears. The walls around her vibrated and shook. But she was safe. No one would find her here. She was safe.

The fighting raged on. Her father's flagrant voice reverberated through the house. Her mother tried to scream again, but this time she couldn't.

Suddenly it was quiet. Deathly quiet. Carly squeezed her rabbit close to chest. Her heart was racing. She was frightened. But here she was safe. No one would find her here. She was certain they would never look for her here.

Carly gasped in horror as the closet door was yanked open from the other side. Her father loomed over her. Her grabbed her by the arm and drug her out of the closet. He tossed her, like a rag doll, onto the bed.

Carly struggled to get away, but he pinned her to the mattress. She could smell his flesh and feel the sweat and blood roll off of him.

“Open your mouth,” he yelled. Carly began to shake. She clamped her lips together and turned her head away.

Her father put his hand at her neck and pressed his palm against the base of her throat. “I won't tell you again, open your mouth, now.”

Carly did as she was told. Her father took a handful of pills and forced them into her mouth. Carly began to cry.

“Swallow,” her father demanded. “Or I will kill you.”

Carly started to choke. Slowly, one by one, the pills went down. When they were all gone, her father pushed more down her throat. Within a few minutes her head was spinning and her vision began to blur.

The white curtains in her room seemed to flutter like a butterfly. She felt nauseous. For a moment she thought she might be sick Her eye lids grew heavy. She tried to keep them from closing, but she couldn't keep them open any longer. She gave in to the darkness that stole over her.

“Carly. Carly wake up.”

In a daze, Carly felt someone shaking her. Her eyes rolled back into her head. The walls seemed to be closing in on her, reaching out to smother her. She squinted at the man kneeling beside her. He looked familiar to her, but she couldn't remember where she had seem him before.

She was sleepy. She wanted to sleep. Why didn't they just leave her alone?

“Carly,” the voice said gruffly. “Don't you die on me.”

She felt a slight tapping across her cheek. It wasn't like her father's touch. Something about it was really different. It was a caring, gentle and tender. And the voice. It was soft now. Soothing.

“Carly, can you hear me?”

The man wore a blue uniform. There was a shiny badge on the left side of his chest. He began to gently shake Carly. Her head bobbled back and forth.

Carly wanted to answer him, but she was paralyzed. Her entire body was numb. She let out a small whimper. The next thing she knew the man was shoving his finger down her throat and she was wretching all over his nice uniform.

“That's my girl,” the man whispered. “Let's get it all out.”

In the background, Carly heard the blaring of sirens. They seemed to get closer and closer. Then she heard the quick shuffling of feet skim across the kitchen floor. Suddenly she was surrounded by men and women dressed in white.

Carly felt something cold and heavy in her right hand. When she flicked her wrist, something shiny caught her eye. Then she noticed it. It was every where. On the walls, the floor, in the sink. It was blood. Her mother's blood. But how did it get there?

After a few minutes, Carly realized that her mother's body was beneath her, still and lifeless. Her eyes stared up at her without blinking. The color had drained from her face and her skin was gray.

Carly dropped the knife and began to scream and kick and thrash her arms around.

“It's okay, Carly. We're going to take care of you.”

Carly was covered in her mother's blood. It had dried on her skin and it was sticky. She pushed herself away from the dead body. She crawled across the floor on her hands and knees and found a small corner of the kitchen to hide in. She drew her knees to her chest and curled into a fetal position.

It was then that she noticed the smoke and the smell.

There were more sirens.

“Carly, we have to get you out of here. The house is on fire.”

“No,” Carly said. “I don't want to go. You can't make me.”

The man scooped her up without another word and ran toward the front of the house. Carly felt the heat of the flames against her cheek. She heard the crackling and popping as new splinters of wood caught fire.

“The fire's spreading fast. Leave the body,” the man ordered. “She's already dead. We can't risk our life to get her out of here. We'll come back for her after the fire is out.”

“Mommy,” Carly called out, reaching her arms toward the kitchen. “Get my mommy. You can't leave her in there.”

When they left the house, Carly saw clusters of people gathered on the side walks . Huge fire trucks, an ambulance, and police cars cluttered the streets. The man set her on the ground near a cypress tree. He brushed her dirty blond hair out of her eyes. Her clothes were soiled as if they hadn't been washed in a week. The man stared down at her with sadness.

“I'm sorry about your mom, Carly,” the man said with empathy. “But we have to take care of you now. Do you understand?”

Silently Carly nodded her head. The last thing she remembered was being lifted into the back of the ambulance. It whirled its sirens and sped off with her inside.