Hide. It was the only way. The two children cowered behind their mother's dresses in the wardrobe in their parents room. Paige kept her hand gently over Perry's mouth, trying to make sure he didn't cry out, ready to press down if he did. Their father hated tears. The front door banged open and Paige jumped. Dammit. They only had a few more minutes.

'Perry, remember to be quiet, okay? You can do it. Just sit back here and be absolutely still. Just let me talk to Dad, okay?'

'Okay' he whispered, his lower lip wobbling. She pulled him close and kissed his head. He was small, even for seven. His shaggy, curly hair flopped over his teary eyes. Paige jumped when the bedroom door opened, clamping her hand down over her baby brother's mouth.

'Where are you, you little whore?' their father roared. Paige pushed Perry behind her and made a warning sign with her hands. He was not to move, or make any noise. The large man flung open the closet door and cried out in triumph. Perry curled into a tiny ball, trying to go unnoticed.

'Daddy, please!' Paige let out a sob. He grabbed her long curls and yanked her out of the closet, pushing her to the floor.

Paige was lucky. She escaped with a few bruises on her arms, and a sluggishly bleeding nose. Their father collapsed onto the bed, immediately beginning to snore.

Perry was still crouching in the closet, trying not to make a sound.

'Come on Per' she whispered, pulling him up. He flung his arms around her, sucking in huge mouthfuls of air. 'Let's go, come on.'

The two children tiptoed out of the master bedroom, headed down the corridor and turned into the room they shared. Paige helped Perry into his pyjamas and deposited him in bed before sitting down at the desk. She turned the mirror around to face her and sighed. The black eye from the week before was fading nicely. Her nose was a tiny bit swollen, but that should go down by tomorrow. The finger marks on her upper arms would be easily covered with a long sleeved top, and honestly she wore those every day.

'Paige?' Perry whispered from under the covers. Paige turned to him, not getting up.

'You should be asleep, Per-Bear.'

'I know. But I'm not sleepy.'

'What's wrong?' Usually, he just fell asleep as soon as he got into bed.

'How come Dad hits you?'

'I don't know Perry. He's just very angry. His job is very stressful.'

'No. I meant why does he only hit you?'

'Because I'm thirteen, and you're seven' she shrugged.

'Oh' he whispered, not feeling at all reassured.

'Go to sleep,' Paige stood up and tucked the covers more tightly around him, kissing him on the forehead.

Within minutes, he was asleep, and she flopped down on her own bed. He had made a good point. How come she always had to take every hit? She was starting high school in a couple of months, and she really didn't want to show up every day in gross clothes looking like she'd been in a fight. Their father had started on her when she was younger than Perry. Maybe… maybe he could take some of the hits now. He needed to grow up a little. He was always crying and clinging on to her wherever they went. Maybe he just needed to toughen up.

Paige's eyes narrowed. It wasn't fair. Next time, it would be his turn.

Next time came quickly. Saturday was always the worst. Their father would wake up at midday after a drunken Friday night, hurt anyone who happened to be around and make his way back to the bar, where he would stay for hours before coming home and slapping them around some more. Paige kept checking the clock. At eleven thirty, she turned to her brother.

'Perry, can you go play downstairs for me? I have some stuff to do.'

'What kinda stuff?' he asked, sticking out his lower lip. He had been running his car up the curtain as though it were rugged terrain, and the curtains downstairs were rubbish.

'Girl stuff' she said evasively. 'Remember, we had that discussion? Now I'm a teenager, you have to leave if I ask you to.'

'It's still dumb.' Perry scowled and collected his cars. He had three; a blue one, a red one and a yellow one. The yellow one was best. It went fastest, because of the speed stripes. He slammed the door and Paige heard him bumping down the stairs on his butt, making 'vroom' noises with his lips. Eleven thirty seven. Paige sent up a quick prayer that she was doing the right thing.

Perry was playing comfortably, racing the cars up the wall of the living room. He ignored his mother, who was asleep in front of the small screen television. He had only been playing for a few minutes before he heard a door slamming upstairs. He froze. It dawned on him suddenly that he would be the only one their father saw. Paige was in their room, and he was between the stairs and the front door. But it was too late to do anything about it. Father appeared at the top of the stairs, his curly hair ruffled, his face red. Perry tried to be as still and quiet as possible. But he was right in the line of sight. Father's face changed to one of targeted rage and he quickened his pace down the stairs.

'Mommy, wake up!' Perry shouted as his father advanced on him. His heart was beating twice as fast as normal, his hands sweating and his vision blurring. 'Mommy!' The woman stirred and looked down at her terrified seven year old.

'Shut up Perry' she spat, rolling over and snoozing again.

'Yeah Perry, shut up' Father said menacingly.

'Daddy, please, don't' Perry begged.

'Shut up' the man repeated, grabbing his son by the front of his t-shirt. Perry felt his feet leave the floor, smelt the rotten stench of stale alcohol on his father's breath and closed his eyes tight shut. The force with which he was thrown against the wall knocked all the air out of his lungs. There was no breath to cry out. The savage kick to his ribs made his body curl up tightly around his vital organs and head, protecting the back of his skull with his tiny hands. The kicks kept coming, and Perry sobbed hander with each one, choking on his own snot and panic. 'Stop fucking crying you little girl. You're worse than your fucking sister.'

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry' Perry choked out between salty tears.

'You're not even worth it' his father shouted, and spat at the back of his son's head. With one last kick, he turned and left, slamming the front door with all his might. Perry unfurled himself slightly, staring at the door, ensuring he didn't reappear.

'You shouldn't cry, Perry. You look like a girl' Mommy said scornfully. Perry wiped the tears off his face, but more kept coming. He stood up. 'Come here' she summoned. He obeyed. 'You need a hair cut, it's looking worse every day. Go to your room and ask your sister to cut it for you.'

'But I don't want-'

'Do it! Before your father comes home!' Perry ran.

The evening was worse. Paige had locked the door to their bedroom. There was nowhere to hide. Perry cowered inside their parent's wardrobe. But it didn't take long for their father to find him. In fact, the wardrobe was always the first place he checked. He was swaying on his feet, and he stank of hard liquor. Perry cringed away from the light as the door was flung open. He shut his mouth really tight, trying not to make a sound. His father laughed, yanked the boy out by his newly short, uneven hair and flung a fist into his son's stomach. Perry doubled over, the wind knocked out of him in one huff. The next punch hit solidly in the chest, as did the next. Perry began to cry. It hurt.

'Quit crying you little baby' the man screamed, pulling him upright.

'I'm sorry, Daddy. Please, don't' Perry whimpered. His father pulled back his fist and swung it hard towards his jaw in a vicious uppercut. Perry's vision faltered as the staggering pain hit him. The side of his mouth filled with blood, and he swallowed, his face scrunching up at the taste, and at the agony of moving his jaw.

He felt his body being lifted onto the bed and dumped unceremoniously on his stomach. 'Please' he whispered through loosely gritted teeth, trying not to hurt his jaw even more.

'Shut up' he said, undoing his belt. 'It's not like I'm going to fuck you or anything, you sick minded little fag' he doubled the belt over in his hand and raised it above his head. Perry had no idea what the words fuck or fag meant. But he thought they must be horrible things. The belt came down over and over onto his back. It hurt like nothing he had ever known. He sobbed and sobbed, and tried not to listen to what his father was shouting at him.

Paige had her hands over her ears, tears streaming down her face. This was her fault. He was doing much worse to Perry than he had ever done to her. He was only a baby. All she had to do was go in and tell their father to stop, then he'd hit her a couple of times and go downstairs to their mother. But she couldn't move. She was frozen. Trying so hard not to hear her brother cry.