"Baby? You awake? Wanna date?"

The car had pulled up and awakened the boy, crunching on the gravel road. It wasn't the first time. He reached under and made sure the ax was under the couch where he slept at night. Keeping it there felt safer.

His mother whispered through the front door, "It's after three. You'll wake the kids." 

They were always drunk. They'd leave at last.

This one pounded on the porch door. 

Mother argued long hard minutes with him. Finally, he left.

The boy let go of the ax, hand sweaty.

Eventually, the family slept once more.