"Whenever my skin gets dirty, I just shed it."
- Tentomon
Digimon Adventure 1
The screams were growing louder from the other room. There was a piercing noise that sounded like someone throwing porcelain onto the floor. The little boy sat with his back to his door with his hands over his ears, just like he'd been told to. At four years old, he wasn't quite sure why he had been sent to his room. He hadn't been bad, after all. He glanced back at the door and wished he could go back out into the kitchen and get his toy. All the shouting was scary, but maybe it wouldn't that bad if he couldn't hear it. Pressing his hands harder on his ears, the boy tried to mute all outside sound completely. The best he got however was a muffled mix of the same loud noises. He tried sticking his fingers in his ears instead, which ended up working slightly better. I'll sneak and get the soldier, he thought, and then sneak back. It was a clever plan, the boy thought - he was very good at sneaking. Getting to his tiny feet, he kept one ear tightly plugged as he carefully reached up towards the door handle. Once the door was open the volume from outside immediately increased. The boy was a bit scared again, quickly moving his other finger back into his ear. With the wobbly balance of a toddler, he stood in the doorway for a bit and stared out at the cheap floral wallpaper of the apartment corridor. His arms were fully locked in a raised position to keep his ears sealed at all times. Slowly, he stepped out of his room and sneaked towards the kitchen.
Where is he? The child looked around the small dark kitchen, puzzled. There was hardly a doubt in his mind he had left the toy in there. He looked down at the brown square-patterned floor as he shifted between his two feet - why was the floor in the kitchen and the bathroom always so cold, he wondered. His mismatched socks were worn out on the bottom and allowed contact between his skin and the icy cold tiles. Sneaking further into the room, he soon felt a sharp pain in his exposed heel and looked down to see the bits of porcelain scattered around him. It was one of the plates, he could tell by the floral pattern -a lot of things in the home were floral. The child crouched down, forced to unplug his ears in order to pull the blood-covered piece from his foot. Just then, there was a scream that was particularly loud and horrible, followed by an awful crashing noise. Throwing his head to the side, the little boy stared wearily out into the living room while clutching the porcelain dagger in his fist. The two sets of adult feet stomping around were so loud it felt like the ceiling was about to crumble. The kitchen lights were off and the doorway out to the other room was narrow. They most likely wouldn't see him - he could run back to his bedroom without being spotted. That's what he wanted to do. The sounds were too scary now. He was used to the crying and shouting and the swearing, but this time it was really bad.
The boy stood up, about to go back, but stopped as something out in the living room caught his eye. Over on the couch he could suddenly see the little red and black tin soldier. He pressed his lips together nervously and grew hesitant. The pain in his foot faded from his mind. It's not that far away, he told himself, and I'm very good at sneaking. Standing still in the dark kitchen, he listened for a while. The child waited until suddenly the footsteps moved hastily out into the hall, leaving the living room empty. He felt the nerving tingle in his legs telling him to go for it. With his head low, he crept into the other room and towards the couch. His hand reached out to swipe the tin soldier safely into his arms - and only then did he spin around to realize he could see into the hall from where he was standing. He turned just in time to see the front door slam shut. Frozen in place, the boy then proceeded to watch the now alone woman in the hall sink to her knees and begin weeping into her hands. She was still in her bathrobe yet her hair looked dry, greasy even. The blue ceramic vase in the hallway was in pieces on the floor around her. He walked to her carefully, soldier still in hand. The way she wailed and moaned was truly distressing. The small child began feeling his own eyes welling up but he wasn't quite sure why, he just knew he should be sad right now.
