April sun was shining gently through the window, illuminating bloody stains on the syringes scattered on the table. Porridge was bubbling on the stove and on the floor a little girl in an unwashed dress was playing with tufts of weekly dust and scraps of old yellowed newspapers. Probably once it was very elegant, because many butterflies and funny bunnies could be seen even through the long-standing grease.
Sunbeam tangled in girl’s blond hair and was playing with her curls. The little girl was approximately six years old or maybe even less. Hands are like twigs, legs are like matches, too pale skin, sunken blue eyes with sacks, weather-beaten tiny mouth - a fragile look of the child stated that she wasn’t eating enough and didn’t receive proper care.
Steps sounded in the corridor. The girl shivered and crawled into a corner, to the bin under the sink. Like a hunted beastie she looked out in horror waiting in the kitchen for him to appear.
- Well, where are you? - A man in stretched sweat pants looked under the table, but didn’t find anyone there; he stood up and scratched his hand, covered with ulcers from shots. Without the use of drugs there was no morning.
By the way, the evening too. After the sunset, the girl especially was afraid to go out of her room. At that time her father had many noisy guests who frightened her with their strange behavior. They laughed loudly, and their eyes were like glass. They smelled nasty, like something sour. Her mom smelled the same. Mother ... the girl had not seen her for a long time. She remembers when she got up one morning, and her mother was lying hunched, as if she's cold. She was probably cold because her skin was icy and almost purple. As eggplant. The girl took her short baby blanket with bears and covered her mom. But her mother did not wake up, even when the dad came home. And then her mother was taken away. Forever.
- Why are you hiding? - He finally found her - Come on, get out and sit to eat porridge.
The girl looked at the plate, with steam curling.
- Eat. You see, daddy is also having a breakfast, - with these words the man pulled his arm with a constrictor above the elbow. The girl turned away. She did not like to watch how her dad does it. And she was scared when he was like that. Recently almost always she was terribly scared.
- Well, why don’t you eat?
- It is hot - timidly squeaked the baby. The man frowned.
- And what’s now? Eat. Quickly!
The girl shuddered and quickly shoved a spoonful of porridge into her mouth, but then she coughed, after getting frizzled.
- Are you jeering or what? – a man got angry - Eat!
- There are lumps – a girl said almost weeping, but still she tried to chew a tasteless, too salty and burned porridge. The man looked daggers at the child, and when she choked once again, spitting the porridge, the man made a strike and hit his daughter on the head. She wasn’t even crying from suddenness. She stared at her dad with her huge blue eyes and choked with the porridge. The next hit was to her stomach.
- Why are you choking? Jeering, right? Eat up, bitch! Eat! What did I say?! - Hits continued one by one, but porridge remained on the table. There was no one to swallow it.
- Hey, what are you doing? What happened? Wake up! Daughter! Daughter! Wake up! – A man was shaking the lifeless body of a child, whose face was covered with porridge. Pieces of porridge were even on the syringes that laid there on the table.
- Daughter! Sunshine! Don’t do it! It’s enough! Daddy will no longer yell at you! Daddy will even try to quit drugs! Daughter! Wake up! Daughter! The meaning of my life ... my daughter ... daughter...
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