by Amanda Banning

Created on: November 06, 2009

I knew I was in trouble when I heard the door close. Deep trouble. I sat on the side of the bed and waited, being ever so quiet, and waited. I began building the wall. I knew what was going to happen. I sat and waited. I would not wait long. I did not know what to expect, but I knew it would be bad, - I would pay dearly for my bad judgment, and there was nothing to stop that from happening. Nothing.

The door opened slowly, quietly. I could hear the strength that went into her grip on the door handle. There was no noise, -no creaking, no barreling into the wall behind it, just quiet. It was then I realized I had stirred an anger that would crash down on my head, literally. What the hell do you think you're playing at? The first blow was not as hard as I had expected, it was more of a slap really, not too bad at all. That's when I knew I had crossed a line that I would dearly regret, and it would not take long. I slipped myself off the side of the bed and tried to curl up beside it on the floor. I could block the force of the blows better if I huddled up. The shouting began. Who do you think you are going behind my back? Did you think I wouldn't know? I said nothing, that would have been throwing gas on the fire, and I knew enough not to open my mouth. I would not be talking my way out of this one, and as mad as she was, it was not going to be anything but bad. I was right.

I imagined a big heavy brick in my hand. Beside it, a big yellow bucket. It was full of mortar, ready to set up, not too thick and not too soupy. I scooped out a thick coat of mortar and flopped it on to the brick. It had to be thick and strong. This was my wall and it would have to serve me well. It would be the only protection I would have. I had already built it many layers high and thick, it would not be knocked down or blown over. It was my wall and I would need it to survive. I could not have been more right.

Her yelling became nothing more than noise. I would not need to remember what was said, it did not matter. The message was loud and clear. She only paused between the blows long enough to suck in a breath, to gather enough momentum to strike again. I said nothing. That was the best way to help myself; it would only have made her more angry and vengeful. She was doing a good job without me adding to it. I remember that somehow I had squeezed myself into a ball that was strong enough to push the bedside table away from the side of the bed as I pushed myself into its space. She grabbed

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