Every move is a challenge.
How will the other react?
Fall back or rise to the bait?
They always rise. She hears the contrast in their voices, like black and white. One shrill, emotional, the other a flat monotone suppressing rage. Every night.
She pulls the pillow close, shutting out the voices downstairs. A door slams. Her mother weeps. A bottle clinks against a solitary glass. Another stalemate.
These are the sounds she will remember. The moves she will learn unknowingly, and repeat, step by step, in later years, when she plays the same game.
Checkmate. But nobody wins.
Written for Rochell Wisoff-Fields #FridayFictioneers Challenge – check out the details here