Poor thing; He can’t possibly understand what’s happening…

He hated when they said things like that. Did they really think he couldn’t recognize it for what it was?

How could he possibly comprehend the things he had witnessed? It wasn’t as if he actually understood his father’s vicious cruelty or scathing words. It wasn’t as if he’d seen the belt break her skin, heard the crack of her bones as his fist struck home, or his mother’s pleas as they faded from screams to whimpers and then to silence.

He couldn’t possibly understand.