Descriptive Essay: A Day At The Living Room

I wake from my slumber to the sound of Mama 's scream. After throwing the covers from me, I clamber out of my bed and tiptoe towards my bedroom door. As always, the floorboards creak, announcing my approach. As trepidation seeps through my skin, my hands clasp onto the hem of my pyjama top, clutching the fabric into my fists, while I wait for either of my parents to usher me back to bed. Once satisfied that neither of them has acknowledged my presence, I continue tiptoeing till I reach the door, and glance over my shoulder towards Frankie, to discover him sleeping soundly in his bed. The opening in the doorway allows a yellow glow to seep through, but also allows me to peep out, though I see nothing but the dim light from our living room creeping up the stairs. The muffled voices drift up to my ears, along

“That 's right. And do you know what that means?”
I shake my head.
While his chocolate eyes stare off into the distance, he rubs his chin with his fingertips. “It means you won 't be able to see your papa for a long time.”
I furrow my brow as I gaze into his oval face. Unlike Papa, Vincenzo wears a lot of scars surrounding his cheeks and around his chin, reminding me of holes, though I can 't determine how they got there. He wears his chestnut hair gelled back, neatly away from his face, revealing more scars along his brow. His already thin lips appear thinner, as he draws them into his mouth, causing them to pale.
He lowers his head to cradle his face in the palm of his hand as his shoulders shudder.
The first tear escapes my eye and trickles down my face as I comprehend Vincenzo 's words. My papa has gone to heaven and I 'll never see him again until I go to heaven myself. With the back of my hand, I wipe the tears away as Papa 's words filter into my mind. “I need you to be the man of the house. That means you have to take care of your Mama and Frankie.” I promised Papa I would do that for him, and that begins