Dear Diary,

Well, for a first, I know a boy writing a diary would seem slightly, well, gay to some people, but I just have to let it out, without someone finding out. If someone found out, then I would be in a lot of trouble and my whole life would change. It's horrible but I can't let anyone know.

I check the clock. 7:55PM. Just five more minutes until the usual routine would commence.

The truth is, my mother beats me. She lives out of the bottle, and then while she's drunk, she lets it all out on me. She tells me things I don't want to hear, and I already know the truth. I was a mistake. Ever since she turned thirteen, she's been living off alcohol, and one time, when she was fourteen, she ended up sleeping with someone. Nine months later, I was born. If I didn't look just like my father, with messy blonde hair and green eyes, then she probably wouldn't even know who it was.

7:57.

Every day, as soon as it hits 7PM, the bottle opens, whether it is wine, beer, cider or anything she can find, and drinks over her limit within about two minutes. 8PM, she comes and beats me. I'm too scared to tell anyone. Since my father doesn't care about me, I would be classed as an orphan if I was taken off of her, and one person at my school who already gets bullied so bad that they self-harm. I've seen the cuts on their wrists. I still have my mother's brother, Uncle Alistair, who lives with my Aunt Madeline and their twin sons, Alfred and Matthew, who are my age, and went to an International School just outside of town. But one thing I didn't like about them was that Uncle Alistair and Alfred are over the top, and you can't get a word out edgeways with Aunt Madeline and Matthew.

7:59 and 30 seconds. Half a minute until she probably would come up.

I don't want to move, but I want mother to stop beating me.

Signed, Arthur Kirkland.

"Arthur!"

I could hear her slurring heavily and walking up the stairs. It had been like this the past six years, but it was getting worse and worse. Last week, I got a black eye, and it still stung, since it had come back yesterday. The door opened, and I could see her standing there. One side of her mouth was drooping from being drunk, and a beer bottle was in her right hand. The bottle smashed onto my head, sending shards of glass digging into my scalp. As I had learnt, the more I screamed and panicked, the longer she'd carry on, so I silently hissed, as I could feel the blood come out. She also had brought a wine bottle, which quickly followed as soon as the beer bottle was completely shattered. Any shards that fell out went straight back in, and the whole process continued for about an hour, punches, kicks, more bottles, the list never ended. As soon as she left, I flung myself onto my bed, sobbing silently.

Alfred

"Yo, Mattie, dude! Wanna come with me to see Arthur?"

I watched my twin brother as he finished reading a page in his book, silently as ever, before shutting it and putting it on the coffee table. Both of us had spent the morning in the living room, Mattie was reading a book about a foot big and I was watching TV.

"Sure. Let me just go and get a jacket." he said softly, having to repeat the same message twice after since I didn't hear him.

"You two don't want me driving you there, do you?" Dad asked.

"No Dad, were old enough to walk there."

"You're only twelve, Alfred F. Jones, stop acting like you're an adult." Dad smirked playfully.

"I can look after myself!" I pouted. "And if Mattie needs help, I'll be the hero and help him!"

"I won't need help." I jumped as I heard my brother from behind me. "Just because you're the oldest by seven minutes doesn't mean I'm the weakling."

"I never said that! I said if."

Matthew rolled his eyes before the two of us walked out the house. Arthur's house was on the other side of town, but the bus station was not far from us, so we could take a twenty minute bus ride there. As we usually did, Matthew walked on the left and I walked on the right, and we did this naturally. We walked in silence until we reached the station, just a simple plastic structure with a little roof over the top in case it was raining. Nothing special. The two of us were the only ones there apart from an old lady reading a newspaper, and a man around 40 smoking just outside. Luckily for us, the bus driver was just getting into his seat, driving round the roundabout that was there and pulling up. Under 16's went free aswell, so the driver just nodded and we sat down. "Hey, Alfred, have you noticed that we haven't seen Arthur as much as we used to when we were younger?" Matthew said.

"Yeah…"

Truth was, neither of us have seen Arthur for atleast eighteen months now. Since he changed to a Private School in a neighbouring town, we hadn't even spoken.

To get to the other side of town, we had to stop in town and catch a different bus to that area. There were about eight stops in town, but we stopped at the first one, next to a camera shop and opposite a clothing store that also started to sell food. The bus to the other area was right behind it (They need to get a more decent schedule), and we didn't even have to sit down. This bus was a lot quieter, since apart from the council houses just outside of town, the people were rich. The Kirkland house was in the middle of the two, not cheap, not expensive, around average. The closest bus stop was just outside of the estate, so the two of us got off there and walked. The roads were twisty, and I remembered them from when we went to the same Primary School, since we always went to the others houses nearly every day.

Their house was the last one on the main road, which had many little roads leaning off. It was three stories, and was the only one like that in the estate. Outside, there was no car in the driveway, meaning Aunt Alice wasn't home, but when we tried the door, it was unlocked. "Alfred, we shouldn't go in just because it's open…"

"Artie may be home." I said quickly.

"There isn't any noise though. Let's go-"

That was when we heard sudden sobbing coming from upstairs, and the two of us snapped out necks to which room it was. It was coming from Arthur's bedroom.

The two of us silently walked up them, though Matthew burrowed his eyebrows at me when I trod on a squeaky board. Arthur's room was near enough opposite the top of the stairs, so we stood outside of it. "You go in, I'll do anything that you need me to do." Matthew said.

"You sound like a spy, dude."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "You watch too much TV."

"Too much is not enough!" I said, before putting my hand on the door handle. "See you!"

Once I stepped into Arthur's room, there he was, on his bed, face down. That was when I saw what he had been crying at. His head was covered in blood. "Arthur?"

He jumped, before eventually going into a sitting position. "What are you doing here?"

"What the hell happened to you?!" I hissed, ignoring his question.

"It doesn't matter-" he said, shaking his head. That's when I realised why his head was bleeding. Glass was dug into it.

"Arthur?"

He blurted out everything suddenly, so quick I'm not sure if he even took a breath. "Woah, slow down Arthur!"

And that's when he said everything. Mattie had come in around half way through to hear what was going on.

"Don't tell anyone, please." he said softly.

"Arthur, dude. If something like that's going on you should tell our Dad."

"No!" he said, panting. "I'm not becoming an orphan!"

Mattie and I exchanged a look. "Arthur, you can't go on like this…" I said, nodding to Mattie, who had gone out to secretly call Dad. Arthur would blow a fuse, but better safe than sorry.

"I'm used to it; it's been going on since I stopped seeing you when we were 7."

"Why haven't you told anyone?!"

"Nobody's going to help."

"Arthur, we will." I said, just as Mattie walked in.

"Arthur, if you want, you can stay the night with us." Mattie said.

"I don't want to."

That was when we heard a car pull up. Arthur cringed, obviously thinking it was going to be his Mum, but it was actually our Dad. "Arthur, what's happened?"

"You told him, didn't you?" Arthur said, his eyes like hawks on Mattie.

"Arthur, you're going to need that sorting out. I know what your mother's like, you just need to let her have a little time on her own. Just stay with us for a few weeks."

Since it was an adult telling him what to do, he didn't seem as reluctant. "Fine, just for a couple of weeks, no longer."

Dad smiled. "Something's going on with your mother; we just need to keep you from her for a couple of weeks. We won't hurt you."

"Just let me get some stuff. Please." Arthur said softly.

"Sure, kid." Dad smiled, about to ruffle his hair, before realising the scars and glass stuck in it. "You two, let him have five minutes to himself."

The two of us nodded, before following him downstairs and into the car.

Arthur

Why did the Wankers do that?

I'm used to it, I…

I'm fed up of it.

Grabbing a rucksack from under my bed, I shoved in some clothes, my toothbrush and toothpaste, comb, and some other things that I wouldn't share with any of them. That's when I saw the diary on the table. Should I take it?

I dropped my rucksack on the floor and flicked through the pages. Some of them had huge chunks of writing, while some were just little scribbles. You couldn't define anything I drew as art, and I knew it. Most of it was just to let my emotions out without anyone knowing them. As I locked it slowly with the key, I dropped it into my bag.

I looked around my room. I knew if Uncle Alistair was to get involved, then my mother would probably end up in jail. He was an ex-police officer, having to retire from it after a dog attacked his leg, and nearly had to have it amputated, but now worked on the desks there. He also sometimes worked as a CSO (Community Support Officer). And I know, like Alfred, he can get himself stuck into something and make sure something would happen.

I knew something. I knew everything now would change. I knew it would happen whether I liked it or not.

Just for notice, since I am British, I will be using the British school scheme. Infant School is for 4-7 year olds, and they do SATS- some little tests ready for the next school- aged 7. Junior School is for 7-11 year olds, and they do SATS aged 11. These schools can sometimes be combined, and are called Primary Schools. Secondary Schools are for 11-16 year olds and they do GCSE's- which determine their qualifications, aged 15 or 16, depending on when they were born. I might have my last test on my 16th birthday at this rate! Then you can go to Sixth Form College, Normal College, University etc. or just get a job straight away! Year's at school are the number above Grades. Eg- 8th Grade is Year Nine. Any more information you want to know, just ask!~

JayflightCrows