Scars

I count to five as I hear the place I have suffered in smash to pieces around me. "One," glasses shatter as they hit the walls, "two," a window breaks as something is thrown through it, "three," I hear the bookshelf fall to the ground, "four," books and photos are shredded to pieces, "five," my door turns to splinters and he steps in. "Was it worth it sweetheart?" My father asks, a smile creeping across his face. The hall's mirror lay cracked on the floor by his feet. I see the fear in my eyes, wondering, "Am I going to die?"