They were hungry.
Pitiful whimpers escaped their mouths as their tiny stomachs shrunk painfully.
With pleading hands they tried desperately to rouse their mother, deep in drunken sleep.
They never cried, having long since outgrown of the expectation of receiving any response.
The front door slammed, heavy boots fell.
He was hungry too, and wouldn’t abide it. Striding across the filthy carpet to his comatose wife he shook her violently.
“Stupid bitch!” he screamed, dragging her to the kitchen by her hair, she was awake now, wailing in terror.
Frightened and confused, they were two broken little children beyond help.