I sat on the park chair, watching my son and daughter play. They jumped, laughed, rolled on the grass and played hide and seek.
I smiled warmly. When it grew late, I looked at the time on my watch, my eyes widening as I knew what the time was.
To go home.
A tear slipped down my cheek, I looked at my children.
I touched around my eye, feeling the bruise.
I swallowed, calling them over.
"Time to go home."
My kids laughed and followed me to the car. Bruises were on my arms.
"Are we going home now?" My daughter asked. I nodded my head weakly, thinking of what was to come.
"Y-yes," I whimpered, releasing the brake. Home was meant to be somewhere safe. But mine wasn't.