So, this has been in my idea since I've first read Vampire Academy, when we found out that Dimitri beat up his father, because he was abusing his mother. The idea escaped me until recently, when I reheard the song "Never Again" by Nickelback.

And if you've ever heard that song, then you know exactly what I'm thinking. Needless to say, I put the song on repeat and couldn't stop writing. I've wanted to do this for so long... And I finally did it. Haha.

Contains a very constant mention of abuse, but I wouldn't say that it's incredibly graphic...

Never Again
she lives in a daydream.

I was six-years-old when I saw my father hit my mother for the first time.

At first, I didn't understand – how could I? I was only six. If anything, I thought that they were engaging in a form of wrestling… but I couldn't understand why mama wouldn't fight back. I figured she was amusing him by letting him win. After all, it was just a game, right?

My thoughts started changing when my sisters would usher me and Viktoria, who was only a mere seven months old, into the bedroom, telling us not to make a sound. It happened every time my father stumbled into the house, completely uncoordinated. I now know that he was drunk, but I didn't at the time.

We spent most of that summer locked in our rooms together. Sonya and Karolina would try to entertain Viktoria and I with pointless games in an effort to keep us distracted from our father's shouting and our mother's screams, but they never worked.

The shouting and screaming became our lullaby at night.

The next morning, there would be something broken in the house and bruises covering my mother's body. Sonya and Karolina cleaned and attended to our mother and I'd watch her with a curious look on my face. I would always ask her what had happened and if she was okay … but she'd just give me her most reassuring smile and tell me that everything was going to be fine. . .

I was nine-years-old when I truly understood what was going on between my mother and father.

And once I realized it, it was impossible to get out of my mind. Sonya and Karolina took every chance they could to get out of the house, and usually spent the night with their friends whenever they were home from school. Unfortunately, this left me, and a toddler Viktoria, in the house with that monster.

I would hear her scream from down the hall in the middle of the night. It was amazing she could even talk at all.

"Go back to bed," she'd tell me as soon as I would poke my head out from my bedroom. I would do as she said say, but the fear that I saw in her eyes was unforgettable. The terror would be forever etched in my memory. The only thing I could do at that point was say my prayers to God and pray to him that she wouldn't wind up dead in his hands.

Most of the time, God answered my prayers. I would wake up in the morning after tossing and turning to find my mother alive. She was broken in so many places… but all that mattered was that she was alive. When my father disappeared in the early morning, she returned into the kind, loving women that she was. . .

I was eleven-years-old the first time she needed medical care.

It was in the middle of the day. All of my sisters were at their friends, and I was at the house with mama. Up until that point, I believed that the nightmares would only come at night. It was that moment when I was proven wrong.

He – I refused to think of him as my father by this point – came stumbling into the house once again, completely drunk. He would glare at me and mutter a string of curse words at me (most of the time being about how I was a waste of space and should have never been born) before he would make his way over to where mama was.

Normally, she spent her time downstairs. However, she had been working on something special for my sisters and I, and was working on it upstairs, afraid of my curious eye. It didn't take him long to realize that she was upstairs, and up he went.

When he disappeared from sight, I had divulged myself back into the book I had been reading. Books had easily become my escape by that point, and it was the only thing that would block out the terrible pleas from my lovely mother.

It only took a few moments before I heard a grunt, a scream, constant banging against a wall, and then lastly, cries for help. Laughter filled the air and I had put my book down, frantically looking around for the source of the crying. I knew it was my mother and I knew that sick, sick bastard was laughing.

My heart had stopped beating when I saw her lying on the floor, with blood coming out of her mouth and nose. Her ankle was twisted and her leg looked deformed. I had been at the academy long enough to know that her ankle was sprained, if not broken, and that her leg was broken.

And just like the sick bastard he was, he laughed again, waltzed right by us like nothing was wrong, and left. As soon as the door slammed shut, I reached for the phone – there was only one person in my mind that I knew I could trust. I knew that she would help us out and not ask any questions. Despite my mother's protests, I called Oksana.

"She tripped and fell down the stairs," is what mama had forced me to say.

Oksana had appeared our doorstop within a matter of moments. Her Moroi magic was different and it would amaze me every time I saw her use it. The only problem was that we had to set her leg back in proper alignment in order for the bone to heal properly.

The cries weren't as half as bad as the ones I was used to.

"What happened?" Oksana had asked, but the tone in her voice was evident – she wanted the real truth, not the beat around the bush that she knew she was going to get.

"I tripped and fell down the stairs. How clumsy of me," mama had replied with a strained laugh.

The Moroi looked at her with a frown on her face. Oksana wanted the truth. But my mama wasn't going to give her the truth, that much I knew. She had been hiding the truth from the world for years and she wasn't about to stop now. . .

I was thirteen-years-old when I reached my breaking point.

It was like something had snapped within me.

It was ten o'clock at night and my sisters were upstairs. Our roles had reversed by this point; instead of them taking care of me, I took care of them – regardless of Sonya and Karolina being older than me. Every single time that monster stepped into the house, it was I who lead them into the bedroom and attempted to keep them entertained.

I was reading a book – I had become particularly fond of American westerns – when I heard the first slap, followed by a muffled cry and a demand for her to be quiet. My insides boiled. I was taller than him by at least four inches and had more muscle than he ever would. I couldn't think straight; all I could think about was the constant string of abuse ending.

And I was going to make damn sure it ended tonight.

I found them in the kitchen. My mother was holding her cheek, which appeared to be bleeding. She was cowering in the corner, and he was towering over her. I could see the visible fear in her body language and the pleasure in his.

"Don't touch her."

I didn't recognize my own voice. It was deadly; completely lethal. He turned around and kept a twisted smirk on his face. The monster inside me flared as he raised his hands and struck my mama across the face again.

"You wouldn't hurt me, your own father, now would you, Dimka?"

I didn't think; I just acted. I lunged forward and grabbed him by the shirt collar, instantly throwing him to the ground. My fist connected with his face and I heard his nose break. The blood spewed from his face and the monster inside me purred.

"Father's a name you haven't earned yet," I seethed through my teeth. My fist just kept coming in contact with his face… neck… shoulder… arms … Every inch of his body would be black and blue.

I don't know how long I spent with my fist at my father's face. It could have been hours, but I presumed that it was only a few minutes. The only thing that pulled me out of my haze was someone pulling me back. That someone was Karolina, and she was crying as she pulled me off our father, who was lying helplessly on the ground.

There was blood everywhere. It was on my knuckles and my face. It was on the floor and had splattered on the chairs. My father's face was beaten to a pulp; the only way you could truly recognize him was his Badica blue eyes, but even those had been swollen shut. His nose was obviously broken and it looked like I had dislocated his jaw.

And as sick as it was, I was proud of my handiwork. The academy had taught me well.

"Dimka… what did you do?" She sounded so broken. I leaned back into Karolina as I looked at mama. Sonya was attending to her cheek, but otherwise, she looked physically fine. Emotionally, I knew she wasn't doing so well.

"He… he won't hurt you anymore, Mama."

Good job, Dimitri! Beating up that crazy ass father of yours...

Review? (: