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Little John

He stood there watching. Sobbing. Weak. Helpless. Little John, there in the corner, wishing that they would stop. The fighting. The shouting. Screaming. Cursing. Hitting. He couldn't take it. He just stood there watching.

He never liked conflicts - the shouting and screaming. As much as possible, he stayed away from them. He kept distance. In his nook, his corner. The only thing he knows to do was cry.

Now older, still little John dislikes conflicts especially coming from the family. How can something that's supposed to cradle love and affection possess so much anger and hostility, he thought. He wanted to run as far away as possible. He wanted to just disappear.
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