I awoke to the sound of a door slamming.  I heard familiar voices yelling from across the apartment and instinctively reached down to grab my teddy.  He was cowering beneath my quilt, probably just as scared as I was.  He was a raggedy old thing.  My mother told me that my aunt had given him to me on the day I was born.  Of course, I had no memory of that, but Teddy had been a significant figure in my life for as long as I could remember.  He was a sandy brown color, with friendly eyes and a stitched-on smile.  A chunk of his left leg was missing from when the new puppy had gotten to him the week before. 

I sat bolt upright.  The puppy! 

I got out of bed as quietly as I could and tiptoed past the bookshelf coated in dust and coffee stains.  His bed was in the corner, nestled beneath the array of movie posters my mother had hung in an attempt to cover the cracks in the wall.  There he lay, wrapped in a sea of blanket and chew toys.  He was awake too.  His worried eyes darted nervously around the bedroom.  I reached out a hand and scratched his head.  He nuzzled my finger gently and let out a whine.  My mother had given him to me for my seventh birthday, almost two weeks ago.  I had named him Samson after a character from my favorite movie.  It suited him well. 

I lifted him out of his bed and carried him to mine.  His sleek black fur glistened blue as it caught the light of the moon streaming in through the window.  I lay down and placed him on my chest.  He presented me with a wide yawn and proceeded to nibble on my finger.  I giggled, but didn’t stop him. 

I heard another crash from the other room.  This wasn’t the first time my parents had fought like this.  One time I walked into the kitchen to find my father standing over my mother with fists drawn and a crazed look in his eye.  I ran out crying, of course.  My father ran after me.  He tried to tell me that it was okay, but I didn’t believe him.  I didn’t like seeing him like that.  It was frightening. 

I shifted onto my side and allowed Samson to burrow underneath the covers.  I couldn’t quite make out what my parents were yelling about.  Partly because of the many walls between us, and partly because of the amount of big words they were using.  Words like “divorce” and “attorney.”  Words they hadn’t taught us yet in school. 

Samson’s claws were now digging deep into my thigh.  I lifted him up and placed him on my chest.  His heart was beating faster than mine.  He probably didn’t even understand why we were awake this late. 

“It’s okay, buddy,” I whispered.  I planted a kiss on the top of his head.  His ears perked up and his little tail wiggled a bit.  I smiled.  The more I looked at the little pup, the more the events of what was going on outside my room seemed to melt into a puddle at the back of my mind. 

Maybe I could take him outside in the morning, I thought.  I reached down, grabbed my teddy and placed it in his mouth.  He wagged his tail, but soon dropped it.  He was too sleepy for toys. 

The door slammed once again and we were faced with an uncomfortable silence.  A few minutes later, I heard the sound of my mother’s footsteps approaching my bedroom door.  I quickly pulled the covers up over my shoulders and shut my eyes. 

I don’t want her to know I’m awake.  I don’t want her to know I heard them fighting. 

The door creaked open and I heard my mother let out a sigh of relief.  I heard her inch her way farther into the room and come to rest next to my bed.  I held Samson tightly against my chest and prayed he wouldn’t make a fuss.  To my surprise, he didn’t.  My mother’s breathing was labored and she sniffled a couple times.  I knew she had been crying.  I hated thinking of her like that.  She didn’t deserve to be sad.  She deserved to be happy, like Samson was. 

She lingered by my bed for a few more seconds before turning to leave.  I didn’t move until I heard the door click behind her.  Samson had already fallen asleep, cushioned by the warmth of the down comforter and rocked by the gentle lull of my breathing. 

I thought back on my parents argument.  I’d heard stories of families who had to break up because the parents stopped loving each other.  I didn’t want that to happen.  I didn’t want to think about that happening.  All I wanted to think about was the cute little bundle of fluff that was huddled against my stomach.  I wondered if he knew how much his presence meant to me.  Maybe somewhere in that little brain of his, he knew that he was the only thing keeping me from falling apart in that moment. 

Samson jerked himself awake and looked up, as if he knew I was thinking of him.  He looked puzzled. 

“We’re gonna be fine, buddy,” I smiled.  “Everything’s going to be fine.” 

I’m not sure who needed more convincing.