Travis Stoll was exhausted after a long day at work. His shift was supposed to end at nine, but the employee who was scheduled after him had failed to show up. It was now 11 o' clock, and Travis could barely keep his eyes open.

He kicked a pepple and watched as it skittered down the well-worn sidewalk. Dull streetlights illuminated the street, moths drawn to their flickering glow. Across the street, two men began to argue, shouting profanities and insults back and forth. He watched as the larger of the two slugged the other, and a vicious fight broke out. To avoid any trouble, he sped up and quickly turned a corner.

Travis had been jumped before and hadn't particulary enjoyed the experience. He shoved his wallet deeper into his pocket and glanced around in paranoia.

Finally, he arrived at his shabby excuse for a house. He trudged up the steps, slowly opened the door, and slipped inside. Before he could even close the door behind him, a lamp clicked on and a gravelly voice broke the silence.

"You're late."

Travis turned and found his repulsive stepfather, Mike, seated in a grungy recliner, a bottle of beer in his hand.

"I had to take an extra shift." Travis replied calmly.

Mike raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Did you now?" He held out one beefy hand. "Give me the money."

Travis didn't oblige and turned to go to the room he shared with his brother, Connor. "Get your own job you lazy bastard." he muttered under his breath.

A hand shot out and grasped the back of Travis's shirt, spinning him around, and then slugging him in the face. Travis clenched his jaw, but did not retaliate.

"Don't speak to me that way, boy." Mike roared angrily. Then he grinned and hissed mockingly, "I'm your father now."

Travis jerked out of Mike's grasp and scowled. "You're not my father." This earned him another blow to the face, on the same cheek as the first.

Travis winced and flexed his jaw. "Don't you think that side's had enough?" he asked sarcastically.

Mike's fist met his other cheek. Hard.

Over his stepfather's shoulder, Travis noticed his little sister, Ally, cowering behind the counter. She let out a faint whimper and Mike turned hastily.

"It's alright, Ally. Go back to bed." Travis told her calmly.

"Daddy, don't hurt Travis!" she pleaded.

"Bed. Now." Mike snapped. She gave Travis a quick hug and hurried back down the hallway to her bedroom.

Mike waited until the door clicked shut before returning his focus to Travis.

"Alright. Where were we?" he pondered mockingly. "Oh yeah!"

This time his fist hit Travis in the stomach. Travis groaned and Mike socked him in the mouth. He could feel his lip beginning to swell. He wiped away the blood with the back of his hand and then spat defiantly on his stepfathers shoes.

"That's it!" Mike raged. "The disrespect-" another punch. "Ungratefulness-" punch. He continued shouting insults and hitting him until he had Travis backed up against the door.

"Get out!" he roared.

"Glad to." Travis spat. He turned to leave and his stepfather gave him one last blow to the shoulder blade before he slammed the stumbled out into the night.