A/N WARNING this fic contains very graphic and violent scenes. Please do not read if you are easily offended and if you have any problem with this fic please accept my apology

Violence

No one understands. Mum and Dad are in denial. They don't believe anything could be wrong with sweet, misunderstood Steve. But they don't know what he's like when they're not around. When they're gone, he's different. He's scary.

No one understands though. No one knows him like I do.

Maybe Manna is the only one who understands. But what use is that. I stopped writing to her a long time ago. There's nothing to say anymore.

Steve found the letters one day. I don't know what he was doing snooping around under my bed, but he found all the letters that Mandy had sent me. He found out about the stuff I've been telling her…about him and what he does to me.

He did a lot worse this time. When I got home from school he was waiting for me. He grabbed me as I walked in the door. I screamed but he put his hand over my mouth. With his other hand he pushed me up against the wall. His grip was tightening around my throat so I could barely breathe. He leant in close to me so I could smell his stale breath. I could smell a mixture of beer and cigarettes. He pulled his hand away from my mouth and I knew not to scream. I knew what he would do to me if I did.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, you fucking scrag?" He yelled.

I closed my eyes tight to avoid tears, although I knew they would come eventually. "What do you mean?"

"I read your little pen pal letters." He grabbed my shoulders and slammed me into the wall. I winced in pain and he only responded by doing it again, harder. "What gives you the right to tell complete fucking strangers about my personal life?" He pushed me sideways onto the floor. I tried to get up but he was quick to get on top of me. He punched my face hard and I felt my jaw crack. I was used to this treatment from him but I knew that this time it would be a million times worse. Normally he beat up on me because he feels like it or because we'd run out of milk or his TV show had been cancelled and Tennis was on instead. He never had a real reason to be angry before.

"I'll make sure that you never write those things about me ever again." I had never heard so much anger and hate in his voice. He grabbed my right wrist and with one swift movement he stood up and yanked me up with him. I was on my knees with him holding my hand high up in the air. It was my only support. He left a moment for me to catch my breath and then he kicked me in the stomach. The tears started to come now. I hated it when I cried; it only made him hurt me more. He did. He pushed me face down on the ground with my wrist still in his hand. I felt him let go of me and I knew there was worse to come. My head hurt too much to move though, so I stayed perfectly still, trying to stay in focus.

Suddenly I felt his foot collide with my already damaged wrist. It shattered under his weight and strength. I let out a cry of pain. He flipped me over onto my back and straddled my waist. He took my wrist in his hands and held it for a moment. With sudden force, he bent it backwards as far as it would go. I let out another howl of pain.

"Shut up bitch. I'll fucking kill you." He slapped me with all his strength. I had no doubt that he would. He had every potential to be a killer. If this situation had ever occurred before, I would be in the ground by now. I began to struggle, which was a bad idea. He pushed my arms back down and looked over me. I looked up at his face and saw a sudden change in his expression. He gave me a smile.

"I know what you want, you fucking slut. I know what you always want." He pushed my arms up above my head and his eyes travelled down to my waist. He noticed that underneath his body, my skirt had been pushed up in the struggle. He held my wrist down with one hand and then moved the other to undo the buttons on my shirt. With a sudden realisation I gave a gulp.

"Don't do this Steve. Please don't."

"But it's what you want little sister. You want me to fuck you until you die…and don't worry, you will."

I was scared. I had always been terrified of Steve but this had brought a whole new perspective to the meaning of scared. I cried a little harder, I couldn't help it. He gave an evil grin.

"That's right Trace. Cry for me. I want you to cry when I'm inside you." His voice had changed from angry to evil and unnatural. I'd never heard him talk like that. I was trying to do anything other that think about what he was doing, but I knew I had to go through with this. He was too strong, too powerful.

He sat me up and pulled off my shirt. He pushed me back down to the ground and stood up. He pulled his pants off and leant down again. He fumbled with the button on the side of my skirt and eventually gave up. Instead he pulled my shoes off and then reached up under my skirt and slid my undies down. I couldn't believe what he was doing,

"You're really twisted, you know." I said clearly. "You don't have to do this. You can leave me alone and we'll never talk about this again, okay?"

He grabbed me and pulled me up so I was sitting again. He shook me as he yelled. "Don't fuckin talk to me like I'm a little kid. I'm not crazy. You're crazy. You want this. You make me sick. You're pathetic and you don't deserve to live." The anger had returned in his voice. I closed my eyes and made a wish that I was having a nightmare as he pulled my legs around him and held my body tight to his. I could feel his penis moving. I couldn't believe this was turning him on. I held my breath, wishing he would just kill me. He just stayed there, holding me on the cold tiled floor. Eventually I thought I just wanted him to do it and get it over with, but when he did it…it was worse than I could ever imagine. He was rough and brought pain with every movement. I stopped holding my pain inside and wailed miserably, but it was useless. They only got mixed up with his moans of pleasure. Soon he decided that he wasn't causing me enough pain. While he was still inside me, he stood up and carried me to his bedroom, taking my bra off as he walked. He lay me down on his rough carpeted floor and finally withdrew.

He ran his hands over my breasts, at first softly so I felt it in the pit of my stomach, but then he started to squeeze them hard. He then leant over and kisses my chest. Then suddenly he began to bite me. I just wanted it all to stop. He kept touching me all over, sometimes it would hurt and sometimes it wouldn't. I thought he would have to get bored eventually.

He didn't for a while. He picked me up again, making sure he was holding my broken wrist tight, and he pushed me against the wall. He supported me with one hand and with the other, wrapped my legs around him. At first I just let them hang limp, but then his support weakened and I knew that I would fall if I didn't support myself. I was already too bruised and in too much pain to let this happen, so I hooked my ankles together and put my hands on the wall behind me to keep me from falling sideways. He did it again.

I felt him come inside me and hated myself because it felt good. I hated myself because I couldn't stop him. I hated myself because Manna had warned me about him and I'd never done anything about it. I was raped by my criminally insane brother and I put up with it.

I didn't even go to the police. I should have. Instead I ran away.

He left me alone an hour later. He went back to his Playstation and seemed to completely forget what he had just done.

I eventually got up and went to my room. I slowly put on some baggy jeans and a long dark top that covered all my bruises, took all the money from my parents secret stash and left.

I walked out the door and never came back.