[Location: Earth, U.K- United Kingdom]
The house was never quiet.
Even in the dead of night, the walls seemed to hold whispers, echoes of shouts, the sound of glass breaking, and the heavy, suffocating weight of fear.
She learned early on that silence was a lie.
A fragile thing that shattered under the weight of her father's rage.
He wasn't always like this—at least, that's what her mother used to say. Back when she was still alive.
Back when she still smiled.
But the years chipped away at that smile, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but a hollow, broken woman who tried to shield her daughter but never had the strength to protect herself.
And then one night, she was gone.
No one came to ask questions. No police knocked on their door.
No one cared about the bruises she had hidden or the way she suddenly disappeared.
Just another tragedy, another forgotten woman in a world that didn't stop moving.
And that left her alone with him.
April never called him "Dad." The word felt wrong, like a title he never earned. He was just him—drunk, violent, unpredictable.
When she was younger, she tried to be small. She tried to disappear, tiptoeing around the house, holding her breath whenever he came home.
But small wasn't enough. Nothing was enough. His anger found her no matter how quiet she was.
A slap for speaking too loudly. A shove for not moving fast enough. A fist when he needed something to take out his frustration on.
April stopped crying after a while. Tears were a weakness, and weakness only made him angrier.
She survived. Day after day.
Until the night everything changed.