The porcelain figure smashed on the floor.

From a prompt (which is the title here). Just another short thing.

The porcelain figure smashed on the floor. One loud bang sounded and resonated in my heart, then deep, deep silence fell.

The carefully structured world around me shook and struggled to take a breath.  My mother's face warps the way it does when she shouts at me. My father's back was turned toward me, but I knew that soon eyes, filled with annoyance that prevailed over quiet worry, would find and focus on me. Already, I feel my aunt's tight hand grasping my head, threatening to crush it in punishment. 

'You are not fit as a lady, much less a girl,' I knew would be their justification and complaint. Always, it was always that frustrating comment.

So immediately, I force my body into action. Away, away before they come. Before the hands, eyes, and shouts could reach me.

And I swore I would neither return, nor cry.