You're five and don't understand the meaning behind most of the words being yelled. You hate being five because it means that you're always supposed to go to bed early. Early means before daddy comes home. Early means whenever mommy gets upset, whether 6 PM or just 2 in the afternoon. Early means being locked in your room, and laying down on the floor. Pressing your face against the crack at the bottom, where a thread of light struggles on.
Tonight you fell asleep, having been laying in that spot for several hours. But the yelling awoke you, and after listening for a couple of terrifyingly long minutes, you run back to bed. Crawling under patchwork covers, burying your face under the pillow. Shutting out the fighting and squeezing your eyes against the tears that leak out.
Being a child, you concoct a make believe reason for why this hurt is happening to you.
In crying, your tears will wash away all of the dust in your eyes. The tears clear away all of the painful gray.. and one day, you will have the brightest, prettiest blue eyes in the whole world.