Chapter Twenty
Through the walls I can hear the soccer games that Mr. Alami watches every night. From somewhere a baby cries. The windows don’t close all the way. It smells like the smoke from the hookah lounge down the street. Our building is never quiet, never asleep, but no one came when Mama let out a short, surprised scream. They didn’t come when I yelled at the man hurting her or when he hit me.
He’s gone now. The bed stopped making that horrible creak. From the crack in the closet door I watched his shadow stand up and fix his clothes before he walked out the front door.
Mama’s shadow got up much slower.
I can tell she’s in pain by the way she’s hunched over, by the sniffles she probably thinks I can’t hear. She doesn’t come and move the chair locking me inside. Does she not kno
