Closer by Maxine Linnell

He’s stronger than me, but I’m hurting him. I can tell, because there’s a salty taste that’s blood in my mouth. His blood, from his hand. I’m scared of what I’ve done, scared of what he’ll do next. 
    And the door whams open. 
    â€œGet off her!” 
    Hannah is in the room. I open my eyes at last and I can see her standing there in her pyjamas, and I can see her shaking. I let go of Dad’s hand and he holds it to his mouth, sucking at the blood. He’s still bending over me. 
    â€œWhat?” 
    â€œGet off her, Dad. Get off her now.” 
    Her voice is shaking too, but it’s loud and clear. 
    He sits up and turns round to her. His voice is cold and angry. “You get back to bed, Hannah. Do you hear me? This is nothing to do with you.” 
    â€œThis is loads to do with me.” Hannah is holding onto the door frame to stop her from shaking. “Don’t think you’re going to start on her now I’m going away. I won’t let you.” 
    â€œWhat do you mean?” He’s blustering, looking at me, trying to smile, but I’m looking at Hannah, willing her to be strong. I can’t do this on my own. 
    â€œYou know what you’ve done to me. She knows too. I’ve told her. We’ve talked. Did you think you could make us hate each other for ever, so we’d never talk? Did you?” 
    He’s shrinking in front of my eyes. He’s shrinking from being the dad I thought I knew, the dad I loved so much, who loved me. He’s folding in on himself. He’s slumping, his head in his hands, and Hannah’s still there, her hair back, holding the doorframe, shaking, but like I’ve never seen her before. 
    She lets go of the doorframe and walks right into my room, like she’s having to remember how to go about putting one foot in front of the other, but she’s straight and tall and I can see her face. She shuts the door and sits on my chair, then stands up again, leans against the wall to steady herself. She’s shaking, and so am I. 
    â€œIt’s got to stop, Dad.” 
    There’s a muffled sound, and he’s crying. Soft, with no tears I can see. My dad, crying. I’ve never seen him cry. His shoulders jerk up and down, and he’s rubbing his face with his hands, the hand with the teeth marks, bleeding. I feel bad for hurting him and I want to cry but I don’t. 
    â€œIt’s got to stop. Look what you’re doing to us. Look at yourself.” Hannah’s voice is raised now, and she’s stopped shaking. 
    He gets up off my bed and his hands are over his face and he sits in my chair, still hiding, shoulders jerking. I can breathe now, I sit up and I’m looking at Hannah and she comes over to the bed and she’s holding me. She’s holding me tight and stroking my hair and I’m crying. 
    And she’s crying too.

Me and Hannah 
    I’m awake like I’ve never been asleep, and my clock says six am. Must be wrong. I’ve only been asleep since two, after everything. In the end they were all in my room. Mum was so shocked she went dead white and she had to sit down on the bed with me and Hannah. She held us both tight and asked us more and more questions, and Dad sat there in my chair with his head in his hands. She didn’t look at him once, or speak to him, none of us did. I’ve never seen him so quiet. At first Hannah and I didn’t want to talk about it all, but Mum was really kind, like she had time for us, plenty of time. We said some of it, but Hannah mostly said about me and I knew she was holding lots back about herself. 
    It was one o’clock when George came in, rubbing his eyes. 
    â€œWhat’s all this row?” he