So I wanted some help improving my writing skills, so I wrote a short story. Any help would be much appreciated. -------- Hands The sound of pages turning, this had been my world. An impenetrable barrier that kept the real world at bay. Yet that has come to an end. He's yelling at her again. Every time I hear this I just want to curl up and hide, and I used to. I hid in my books. Yet that does not work anymore. He slapped her. I can tell by the way he is screaming and the loud thump. I pull my knees up to my chest. It wasn't always like this. He used to be kind and considerate, but now he is cruel. A few tears escape my closed eyes. I hate myself for being so weak. He is coming down the hall. I can hear his footsteps. I can feel my heart rate accelerate. I remember how happy my mom used to be. A smiling face full of warmth. A different man was there a happy one not a mean one. I run to my bed and crawl under it. He had me on his knee. Bouncing me up and down as i laughed. My mom was singing something sweet in the background. I can't remember the words. He is at my door. He is pounding on it yelling at me to open it. I am crying so much now. I can't see. I crawl as far back as I can. The door falls in. I can here it hit the floor. I see my mom reaching down to pick me up. Then there are his hands. His griping powerful hands. The world starts to fade and I see my mothers face again. Hands, they can hold, comfort, and hurt. Hands.