Such little hands.

Lilly, or Lilypad as the family affectionately calls her, always does this when mommy goes into the bathroom. But it never bothered her.

Her chubby, toddler fingers, wiggling through the space beneath the door.

Every time she comes out the bathroom, she playfully chases after Lilly, catches her, and threaten to eat those unbearably adorable little hands. Her daughter always giggles and squirms to escape.

Such little hands.

Now joined by the raw, bloody fingers of her 8- and 10-years old sisters. They dig and pry with feral aggression. She jumps when the pounding of her husband’s fists also joins in.

Motherly instinct nearly causes her to call out to them to be careful with Lilly in the way. She catches the absurdity before it leaves her lips. Instead, she takes another long drink from the bottle of bourbon, once hidden in the water tank.

Alone, trapped in the upstairs bathroom, listening to the howls, and snarls of her family, she adjusts the handgun on her lap, gazing down at those little hands.