The Little Black Book
The sound of a fist slamming against the kitchen counter made Charlotte wince. She winced again as she heard something shatter. She laid in her bed with blankets covering her face, her blankets a shield from what was just beyond her bedroom door. It was a warm July evening and she could hear the laughter of children from the street, a sweet sound that drowned the noise from the kitchen. The sound comforted her, making her both curious and a little jealous of those children. She had been breathing heavily and the air under the covers was getting hot now. Charlotte slowly lowered the blanket down under her nose and scanned the room, making sure she was safe, a habit. Her book on the dresser caught her eye.
