Chapter 2 - BENEATH THE OAK
Underneath the heavy oak dining table, six-year-old Mateo curled into a tiny ball.
His blue shirt was damp from his own tears.
He pressed both hands flat over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could.
He tried to turn the world off.
He tried to pretend he was a turtle inside a dark, wooden shell.
Through the gaps in the chair legs, he could see Victoria’s gold satin shirt moving back and forth like a predatory wasp.
He could hear the sharp, rhythmic clack-clack of her high heels against the floor.
Mateo pulled his knees up to his chest, his small body hitching with silent sobs.
In his hands, he held a plastic blue race car.
Its front axle was bent, the small rubber tire hanging loose.
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He rubbed his thumb over the broken wheel, his mind searching for a safe place to hide.
"If I stay under the wood, the thunder can't hit me," he whispered to his broken car.
