This is my second one-shot! :D well, maybe, thats for you guys to decide.

"Because I fucking said so, Curly!" I yelled from across the room.

"Why the fuck do ya' keep treating me like this, Tim? I'm not a fucking dog!" Curly fired back at me, opening the front door to leav.

"Curly, what the fuck did I just say? Get back in here!" My words fell on death ears.

Curly continued to stomp away from the house to defy my orders.

I let out a sigh and walked to my room.

The house was now empty, Angela was out at Buck's, I had no idea where that old woman is, and Curly just left to go to Buck's too.

I don't realy know why I snapped at Curly for wanting to go to Buck's, I guess it was just instinct. I always get realy angry when i'm around Curly, you see.

So here I am, alone, in this dingey, shit-hole of a house with nothing to do, but lay down in my bed, stare at the ceiling, and contemplate my life so far.

And that's exactly what I did.

I wanted to think about what happened between me and Dallas last week, and plot on how I was gonna get him back...

but that memory kept up on me again. That terrible memory.

I thought I was finished remembering that memory for the day when Curly walked out, but then again, it has been getting progressively worse lately.

Haunting me for all these years...

Kreeping up in my mind whenever i'm near my younger brother...

Making me feel so ashamed of myself...

So I gulpped and tensed up to prepare myself for the memory to play over in my mind again.

I was seven years old, Angela five, and Curly four.

Our real dad was still with us at the time. I guess you could say he was an O.K. guy around this time, at least, that's how he acted. He was a great father... to Curly and Angela. To me, however... well, sometimes he forgets my name, if that woud give you a hint as to how he was to me.

But one day, I found out the hard way that there was something darker underneith that average, low-classed shell. . .

It was my seventh birthday.

We didn't have a party or anything, it was more of a small meeting.

A few neighbors and friends came over. Everyone brought their own dish to serve while my mother only had to my the cake. There were about six other kid in the neighborhood that came over.

After the cake was cut and served, the kids were all crowded into my room to play while the adults got drunk.

I only had four presents and a total of forty-five dollars. When I was counting my money... my father came in and... told me to come with him so he couuld give me his present.

I know this probably doesn't sound all that special to you, but that was the best thing i've ever heard my dad say in my life. Just the fact that he wanted to give something to me was amazing...

My dad brought me into his and my mom's room, and locked the door. Then he closed the windows and the curtains and switched off the lights, making the room darken. It wasnt very dark, but it was still hard to make out where one object ended and where another began.

Dad set me down on his bed and stood there, staring at me.

I could barely see the strange smile he had on his face.

I ask, "Where is my present, daddy?"

"You'r present is a game, a game only adults can play. You wanna be an adult, Timmy?"

My heart fluddered when he said my name without going "uh, um" or pausing to search his mind for the right name.

I eagerly nodded to his question and said, "Yes."

"Good," My dad said in a deep voice, "Take your clothes off."

I just sat there, confused.

He continued, "Do you wanna be a big boy, Tim?" I nodded excitedly, "Do you want Daddy to love you forever?" I gasped and nodded with more excitment, "Than you have to follow my rules. Okay?"

I nodded, normally this time.

I slowly did what I was told, and propped my back up against the headboard of the bed.

I then watched as he took his clothes off, and crawled onto the bed, pulling me by my leg so that I was laying on back, underneith him.

I started to get nervous when he kissed along my collar bone, and cleared I my throte a few times.

"Daddy?" I ask, "What are da other rules to this game?"

He chuckled, "Well, you can't tell anyone about what we're doing, because they'll see how good you are at it and get jealous. And you can't scream, because everybody in the house would know how good you'r doing, and get jealous. Then, you have to play this game twice a day, got it?"

"W-Why twice?"

"That's just how the game goes." He chuckled again, then ran his tongue from the bottum of m neck, up to my ear, swirling it around a few times before sticking it all the way in.

I shivered.

He started running his hands down my body and stopped right above my "privite" area.

I gulpped, "Are you supposed to do this, Daddy?"

"Of course I am. Now, quit complaining, that makes you lose points." I shut my mouth real tight when he said that.

He began moving his fingers up and down my shaft, making me feel unconfortable. Then he moved his hand lower and lower, and without warning, stuck a finger into my role.

I immediatly yelpped and tensed up.

He threw his free hand over my mouth and said, "Remember, we don't want everyone else to get jealous." I nodded.

I felt him move his finger around inside me for a few seconds.

He moaned, saying, "Oh yeah, I think you'r ready for the next part."

I nodded unsurely and covered my mouth with both of my hands, positive that I was gonna feel something, I wasn't sure what, but, something in a few moments.

My dad yanked his finger out, making me wince, and placed something way bigger at my enterence.

I didn't know what it was at the time, but I know now that it was his. . . his. . . Oh, you know what I mean!

He just stayed like that for a while, chuckling. Me? I was wimpering, waiting, regretting.

Without any type of warning, he shoved himself in, and I let out a loud scream into my hand. Luckily, (I guess) I wasn't loud enough for anyone outside of the room to hear.

My Dad didn't hold back once, he just kept going faster and harder.

I stuck my hand in my mouth and bit down on it to distract me from the pain, but it didn't realy help much.

After I don't know how long, I felt something wet come out of him, and he pulled out.

Tears were all over my face and I couldn't stop crying. I was completely overtaken by pain, and I just couldn't move.

My dad smacked me in the back of my head when he got irritated from my crying.

"Shut the fuck up," he said with a growl, "I thought you were a big boy."

I was able to hold back the tears long enough to say, "I-I am a big boy!"

"Well start acting like one n' shut the fuck up! Quit it with that fuckin' baby, whiny shit. Big boys don't cry, got it?" I could only nod.

He then threw his clothes on and sat beside me, rubbing my hair back soothingly. "Don't think that just because I cursed at you like that means I don't love you," He said softly, "I do love you. Okay? I just have to talk to you like you'r tuff since you'r growin' up. Okay?"

I nodded, blinded by his lies. I can't believe I actually listened to that. . . that. . . monster.

He helpped me get dressed and put me back in my room where all the kids were. I just laid down in my bed though, I didn't realy feel like doing anything for the rest of the night.

Curly eventually laid down right beside because he was tired, and he was to lazy to walk all the way to his room.

I didn't get any sleep that night because I was just amazed by the fact that. . .

Curly looks just like Dad. . .

We continued to play that "game" for the next four years, and being the desperate-for-daddy's-love kind of kid that I was, I never, ever suspected a thing. I never got used to the pain when we played the "game", in fact, if anything, the pain only got worse and worse by each passing day.

"Okay Timmy," My dad sais one day, "This time, we're gonna do something a little different for the game."

I, clearly being blinded by his lies, was stupid enough to think, "I must've leveled up!"

Dad told me to get down on my knees and to take my shirt off. And I did. Once I was done doing that, he pushed his jeans down just past his waist and pulled his. . . "thing" out of his boxers. The damn bastard was already as hard as a fuckin' rock.

He then told me to open my mouth and close my eyes. And I did. As you would guess, the bastard stuck his "thing" in my mouth. Bastard, I nearly choked on that thing.

The horny fuck didn't even give me a chance to adjust to it before he started fucking my throte.

I had decided to stay in the room and sleep a while after we'd finished for the morning.

Later that day, I finally woke up and left my parents bedroom. Dad had left to go to work by then, so the only other ones that were here were Mom, Curly, and Angela. My mom was right in the living room, sitting on the couch with an angry face, cleaning Curly's face with a rag. I think it was because he got into a fight with some kid that day, but I never bothered to find out. I'm pretty sure that was it, though.

When my mom noticed me, she forced a smile so I wouldn't see her angry face, she never liked it when I saw her angry, probubly because we look alike, but not as much as Curly and Dad.

"Hi there Timmy," She sais, "Where've you been? I haven't seen you all day!"

I just stayed quiet for a while, then I answered, "I was playing the game with dad earlier, and I fell asleep."

"Game? What game?"

I almost answered, but then I stopped myself. I remembered what my dad said about keeping it a secret. . . but then I thought, "He's not here. Maybe mom can keep it a secret?"

I then answered, "It's a. . . bedroom game?" I said in the form of a question, "I don't know what dad calls it, but we have to do it in the bedroom."

Her strained smile wavered, and she looked kinda worried. I remember wondering why.

"W-What do you do in this game?" She asked sounding nervous.

I didn't know or want to explain it, so I just showed her. I pushed Curly onto his stomach and got on top of him and started moving.

My mom let out a huge gasp and shot up from the couch.

"H-How long have you two been playing this game?" She almost shouted.

"E-Ever since my seventh birthday?" I said in the form of a question again, confused as to why she was acting like that.

"O-Oh my god. Oh my god! Oh, oh my god!" She kept repeating that phrase over and over again, voice raising each time.

She told Curly to go to his room, and pulled me into her and dads bedroom. She sat me down on the bed and. . . she nealed down in front of me. . . held me in a tight embrace. . . a-and with tears flooding from her eyes. . . sh-she revealed the ugly truth to me. . .

At first, I didn't want to beleive it, I wanted to stay blinded, I wanted to beleive that what we did realy was a game, and that my dad wasn't taking advantage of me! But deep down, way underneith my denial, I knew this was true. . .

My father realy doesn't love me. . .

. . . He doesn't love me. . .

When my wall of denial had finally come crashing down, I'd cried in my mother's arms, overwelmed with shame, fear, pain, anger, and heartbreak, for what had to be hours. When dad finally came home from work that night, around eleven-thirty I believe, my mom let him have it, and she let him have it good. She yelled at him, saying words that would make a sailor jealous. She even threw her ring right in his face and attempted to call the fuzz.

But dad grabbed her by her wrist tightly, and said in a deep, threatening voice, "Now why the fuck would ya wanna do that?"

Mom tried to get out of his grasp, but he was holding on tight. She struggled some more, then, right in front of me, Dad punched her in her face. She flew to the floor, grunting loudly, blood pouring from her nose. I cowared in fear to the corner of the room, hugging my legs to my stomach. My dad then proceeded to beat my mom senseless, right in front of me.

At one point, I just couldn't take it anymore. With a face soaked in tears, I screamed, "STOP!"

Dad stopped striking my mom and looked at me like I was out of my mind. Then I continued with, "I-If I let you play that game with me one more time, w-will you just stop? A-And maybe even leave?"

He stared at me menacingly for a while, then he smirked, "Alright," He said letting go of my mom, "But this time, I want you to scream as loud as you can."

He started unbuckeling his belt and said to my mom, "Hey, bitch, maybe you should go keep those other two little bastards company. Unless you wanna watch the show?"

My mom looked at him, then at me. I looked away, not wanting her to see my shame. She then ran out of the room.

After the very last "game" session my father and I will ever have, I limped to Curly's room, where my mother had gone to watch them and to keep them from wondering why there was screaming. When I got there, Mom had Curly and Angela wrapped tight in her arms, whispering things like "Everything's gonna be alright" and "Don't worry about, don't worry about" to them.

I went up to her and whispered into her ear, telling her that dad had packed his things and left. She smiled with tears coming from her eyes.

"Curly," She sais to my brother, "Why don't you sleep with Tim tonight? Y-You two can keep each other company." Curly nodded.

When mom left the room along with Angela, Curly asks me, "What's wrong Tim?"

Father doesn't love me.

"You look like you been cryin'. Why were you cryin'?"

I've always been crying.

"Why was there screaming?"

I'm always in pain.

"Where's Dad?"

Dad. . .

"Tim?"

Curly. . .

"You okay, Timmy?"

You look. . .

"Answer me!"

Just. . .

"Timmy!"

Like him!

Without thinking another thought, my fist went right across his face. The force sent him to the floor.

He looked a me, holding his bruised cheek, tears forming in his eyes, "Y-You, you hit me."

"Stop fuckin' crying!"

I don't know why I was acting like that. . .

Curly looked at me, not beleiving what just happened.

I just. . .

"I thought you were a big fuckin' boy!" I continued.

Thought. . .

"B-But, I am a big boy!"

. . .He deserved it. . .

"Well start acting like one n' shut the fuck up. Quit it with that fuckin' baby, whiny shit. Big boys don't cry, got it?"

. . .He deserved it. . .

I finally came out of my dream-like haze. I was completely drenched with sweat, but that's normal. At least, for me it is.

The light shining from the other side of the door told me that someone had come home. I forced my aching body up off my bed and slugged my way out the door. Not surprisingly, the very first person I see when I get downstairs is Curly. Curly immediatly glared at me when he noticed my presense.

"Anyone else home?" I ask. He shakes his head and grunts.

We stood just feet away from each other, staring for reasons unknown. We kept this strange staring contest up for I don't know how long.

Then finally, I put an end to this by slugging my way up to him, and wrapping my arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. I felt him stiffen, obviously shocked. He was standing straight up, and I was bent over. We looked kinda awkward, I admit, but it felt nice.

"I'm sorry." I mutter not caring if he cold hear me of not, "I-I'm so sorry."

Tears began sliding down my face.

"But you just look so much like him."

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