Sometimes it’s good. Sometimes...

The sound of flesh upon flesh. 

Sometimes it's good. Sometimes we like the sound. Perhaps some of you enjoy listening to the neighbours screw. Or even the sounds your own bodies make.

When you're only a child, sitting on your bed in the twilight hours holding your baby brother and you can hear the flesh on flesh sounds, then it's not good.

I was 9. When I first heard it. Or I was 9 when I realised what was happening. It wasn't the sound of flesh that woke me. It was my baby brother crying. 

I crept into my brothers room and took him from his bed. 

I could hear the sounds that traveled up the stairs. The sounds of flesh upon flesh. Fist hitting skin. My mums shouts and cries made me need to help her, but I couldn't.

Who would look after Lewis?

I took him to my room with me. I gave him cuddles and told him not to be scared. 

I wanted to cry so badly. But I was busy being a big sister. I told him happy stories. I tried to keep him calm. 

And when I heard my mum scream, followed by the smashing of ornaments I knew she had tried to run. Get away. She didn't want to fight anymore. 

The lump formed in my throat and my brother gave me the strangest look. I had to be brave. For him.

So I swallowed it. 

And I continued our story. 

I was being a good big sister.