Some nights he would stumble into my room. I couldn't stop what he did. As I was there shaking beneath him; it seemed as if he didn't care for me. Almost every other night, he would make me cry myself to sleep.

….

Today my brother and England came over to see me and Papa. They had to drive to our house because Francis and Arthur don't live together. Al kept saying it would be easier and we could hang out more if our parents lived together. Papa and England went out for drinks together, and let me and Al stay home.

They both returned home when it was getting very late. Al had fallen asleep on the couch, and I was waiting in my room. I heard Papa and Arthur talking quietly. Papa was slurring his words.

"Mon L'Angleterre how about you and Alfred stay for the night?"

"I'm not going to sleep with you, you bloody wanker!'

"Fine. mon ami. You can go home"

The talking ceased after that; then I heard a door slam. England must have gotten upset at Papa and taken Al home. I hid under my covers, shaking violently, as I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. The door opened, light flooding my room and the stench of alcohol following it.

"Mon petit Mathieu? Are you in here?"

I shake harder. A small whimper escaped me; telling my Papa that I was hiding under the covers. He walks in my room and tugs at the covers that I hide under.

"Mon cher Mathieu, why are you shaking?"

The covers were suddenly ripped off of me. I screamed. Running was my only option now. He held me down with one arm and was slowly undoing the buttons on my red and white striped pajama top.

"Papa, I'm sorry!" I cried as he pulled off my pajama top. I don't know why he did this to me, but I did know that he was either going to beat me, rape me, or both.

"I'll be right back mon petit Mathieu" He said a little to happily.

He then ran out of the room. I took this opportunity to hide under my bed, even though I know I probably shouldn't have. I heard the footsteps come to the edge of the bed. I saw him drop to his knees and peek his head under. He glared right at me

"Mathieu! What did I tell you about hiding from me?"

I flinched and backed away. He reached his hand out and roughly grabbed onto my hair. I whimpered. Hiding from him would do me no good. He plopped me down on the bed and scowled.

"I'm sorry Papa, I really am." I mumbled. Protesting wouldn't do me any good either. I closed my eyes and a few tears rolled down my cheeks. My head snapped to side and stung like hell. I let out a yelp, opening my eyes back open.

He took my hands and tied them together. That's what he went to go get; some rope. He connected to end of the rope to the edge of my bed frame. The position I was in was rather embarrassing. My legs hung off the edge, and my hands were tied in front of me. I was bent over. That was bad. I didn't want to be punished today.

Papa slid my pajama pants down and pulled them off completely. A hand came and swatted across my backside, not that hard, but I still screamed. I heard the familiar sound of a belt buckle being undone. I started crying now.

"Papa I'm sorry! Please don't hit me!"

Looks like I said that a little too late. My crying ceased for a few seconds and was replaced by a loud scream when I felt a band of leather whip across my backside. He hit me twice more, harder each time. My screaming and crying filled the room, but was abruptly stopped when a hand had been placed over my mouth.

"Be quiet mon cher Mathieu, or I will have to punish you more"

I nodded as best as I could. My tears soaked onto Papa's hand. I shut my eyes tight and didn't see his hand but I felt it in my hair. He ran his fingers through my hair and pulled at my curl. I let out a squeak; he just laughed and did it again. He walked to the other side of my bed and brought his face close to mine. Our noses were touching. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. He pressed his lips to mine and shoved his tongue down my throat. I gagged and tired pulling away. He smacked me for that and kissed me again. This time a bit more rough.

The one sided kissing went on for ages. Well… I thought it was ages. I tried pulling away again and yelped when Papa's hand snaked its way to my vital regions. He then went around to my backside and spanked me again. I whimpered.

"Mathieu, stop pulling away."

"y-yes Papa" I barely could get the words out. I started to scream as I felt a wet and hot member enter me. It hurt so bad and I swear to you I was bleeding. Sometimes Papa would be nicer about it and prepare me first but I guess that wasn't happening. He thrust into to hard and fast. All I did was scream and whimper things like "no" and "I'm sorry" and "please stop" but that didn't help at all.

"Shut up" He yelled with anger while he was raping me. I couldn't stay quiet. Because of me being loud I was hit again.

He quickly came inside of me. The mixture of the warm liquid and blood was making me feel uncomfortable. 'Please let him be done' I silently prayed. Apparently he wasn't. He picked up his belt and proceeded to beat me with it. I let hot tears fly down my face and tried to not make a sound. The pain was unbearable and I soon felt my lower half become numb. What did I do to deserve this? Does he really hate me that much to do this? And almost everyday too?

He stopped hitting me. He undid the ropes on my hands and put my clothes back on. Papa always did this after he abused me. He put me back on my bed correctly and pulled the covers up to my chin. He didn't leave this time. Papa laid down next to me and started to cry.

"I'm so sorry Mathieu. I love you so much and I don't understand why I do this but I hope you can forgive me. If you want, you can tell England about this. I know I told you not to tell anyone, but you can tell him. I won't hit you if you do."

I stared at him in disbelief. Did he really just say all that? He leaned into one of my pillows and kept whispering "I'm sorry." I just want to live a normal life without an abusive father.

"If I tell him, he might t-take me a-away from y-you"

"If he does then I won't h-hit you anymore"

"But I love you Papa. A-And I don't want to leave you."

He put his arms around me and held me all night.

I woke up the next morning and papa was still here, laying next to me. He was still asleep. I slipped under his arm and made my way to the edge of my bed. I swung my legs over the side of the bed. I put pressure on them and immediately jumped back. I couldn't walk. Great. Just great.

I tried again to walk and this time I succeeded. I limped over to closet and pulled out a red maple leaf hoodie, some jean, boxers, and a towel. I limped my way over to the bathroom. I moved quickly and quietly to be sure not wake Papa. He'll wake up later and make breakfast, but if I wake him up now, he might be cranky and hit me again.

I shed my filthy pajamas and got in the shower. The hot water was relaxing to my aching body. I sat down in the shower and pulled my knees to my chest. As the water rained down on my back I started to cry. Why did I have to live like this? Why can't I live with my brother? Why does my father have to abuse me?

Tears flowed freely down my cheeks and I tried my best to not make any noise. I didn't want Papa barging in on me. I don't know how long I as in the bathroom. It must have been a while because he usually doesn't check up on me when I've been in here for a long time. He also might have heard me crying.

"Mathieu? Is everything alright?"

I started to cry louder. I didn't want to see him right now. I didn't want him to yell at me.

"Mon petit Mathieu, I made pancakes."

I perked my head up. That got my attention. I mumbled a quiet "I'll be out in a few minutes." I go to turn off the shower. I gaze at myself in the bathroom mirror. My eyes and cheeks were red, my curl was missing that usual bounce, and my hair was a mess. I know I only got out of the shower, and my hair was still wet, but I at least should have some decency in my appearance. He would see that I was crying. I hope he won't notice.

I dried my hair with a towel and ran a comb through it. Tangled, as usual. That always happened after Papa punished me. I throw on my clothes and walk downstairs. The smell of pancakes and maple syrup wafts over to me. Oh how I love pancakes.

Wait a moment. Papa just wouldn't randomly decide to make pancakes for me. I'd usually have to ask him to. What was going on? Did something happen?

"Mathieu?"

"Oui Papa?"

"I-"

He was cut off by a polar bear latching onto his arm.

"You're mean!"

Kumajiro said through his teeth, still on Papa's arm. He tried to shake kuma off of him, but kuma held on tight. Blood was starting to seep through Papa's sleeve. I pull kuma away from him. Kuma let go and snuggled in my arms, getting comfortable.

"You hurt him!"

Kuma growled at Papa. Papa didn't have a response to that. He looks to the floor and avoids my gaze. Papa knew that Kuma was right. He did hurt me. Papa runs to the bathroom. I turn to Kuma.

"You didn't have to do that you know."

"Who?"

"Matthew."

"Doesn't matter. I'm hungry."

"There's pancakes."

"I know."

"Kuma… You can't protect me."

"Yes I can."

"I don't want him to hurt you either."

"Doesn't matter. I'll protect you"

Our conversation was ended when Papa came back. The blood on his sleeve was gone now. He goes back into the kitchen and stacks three pancakes on a plate. he sets the plate in front of me and sits across from me. I look up at his eyes and see that they are wet from holding in tears. He just started to break down crying in front of me. I stare at him. I didn't know what to do. All the times I broke down crying in front of him, he didn't do anything about it. He just sat there… and cried. I didn't touch my pancakes yet.

"Papa?"

"I'm so sorry Mathieu. I heard you crying this morning and it broke me heart to see you like this."

I didn't know how to respond to that. I stay silent and wait for him to continue talking.

"I don't want to hurt you anymore…" He let out another trembling sob. "So I called England.." What was that supposed to mean? What did he tell Dad? "And I didn't tell him why..." My eyes started to tear up now. "But I asked him to come get you..." A few tears slipped down my cheek. "And take you away from me..."

It felt like I had been stabbed in the chest. No! That's not fair! I sat there, jaw dropped with a look of horror on my face. He can't do this.

"But Papa-"

"Non. You must leave."

We were both crying now. I was holding back some tears so I could still talk to him. Why would he do this?

"Why? I don't want to leave."

"Mathieu... I h-hurt you e-everyday..."

"But I don't want to leave"

"You have to. I saw how much you have been crying... And it's all my fault that you were upset."

"But Papa I can't leave... I love you"

"I love you too son, but you should finish your pancakes."

He stands up and walks into the kitchen, signaling that he doesn't want to talk anymore. I sigh and turn to Kuma who still rests in my arms. "Kumachiki what do I do?"

"Who?"

"Matthew."

"You go."

"But I don't want to."

"I'm hungry."

"There's pancakes."

Kuma jumps on the table and eats a pancake from my plate. He walks over to the other side of the table, his nails clicking on the wood, and grabs the bottle of syrup. He carries it back to me. I take it from him and drown my pancakes in it. I really didn't feel like eating but I knew I should. I take a few bites of them and slump in my chair. Why was Papa doing this? I don't want to leave. I was almost finished with my pancakes when Papa walked back into the dining room.

"Go get ready. England will be here soon."

A few tears slip down my cheeks as I reluctantly get up and walk upstairs. I set Kuma on my bed and fish around in my closet for my carrying case. I pull it out and stuff it with clothes and other essentials. I finish packing and lay on my bed next to Kuma.

"Kumasero what do I do?"

"Who?"

"Matthew!" I quietly shouted.

"You can stay but he'll hurt you again."

"I don't care!"

I started crying. I hear the door open and I snap my head up to look. It's Papa. He walks in and sits next to me. He pulls me into his lap and I wince. I was still in pain from last night. He holds me close.

"Mon petit Mathieu I'm sorry."

I only cry louder. He holds me for a few minutes but sets me back on my bed when he hears the doorbell ring. Papa goes downstairs. I hear him open the door, but what I don't hear is some obnoxious yelling... So that must mean Al isn't there. I wait a few minutes and hear Papa and Dad talking. I don't hear what they say though. "Come down here lad" I hear him yell up to me.

I get up and take my stuff with me. I keep my head to the floor and ignore Arthur's gaze.

"Come on lad, lets get going." he motions for me to come to him. "I don't want too." I reply and cross my arms. Papa shoos Arthur away and tells him to go wait in his car. He gets on his knees and holds out his arms. I run towards him as tears fly down my face.

"I don't want to go!" I scream into his chest. He lifts me up pets my hair softly.

"I know mon cher Mathieu, but you have to go. I don't want to hurt you anymore."

"Then don't and let me stay with you."

"I wish it was easy like that. To just say something and make it happen."

"But I-"

"Oui, I know. I love you mon petit Mathieu, but you have to go now." I wasn't able to get another word in. He held me against his hip with one arm and used the other arm to carry Kumajiro and my bag. He opens up the front door and brings me out to Arthur's car. He sets me and Kuma in the front seat and sets my bag in the back seat.

Fresh tears stream down my face. I didn't hate this man for everything he's done, and I didn't want to leave him either. He stands there, forcing a smile and waving at me. I know that once I leave he's going to start crying and not stop for a few days. His cheeks glisten with tears but I don't think Dad noticed that. We pull out of the driveway.

I slowly watch Papa's house fade away. I don't want to cry right now. How could I ever love someone who hurt me like that? I don't know.

"Lad? What has happened between you two?"

How could he be asking that now?! What do I say? I can't tell him everything. Can I? My young mind fills with worry on what to do so i decide to not say anything. A few minutes passed by and Dad didn't say anything else.

We were halfway to his house by now. He said something else.

"Lad is everything alright?"

Can't you see I'm crying?

"Non." I reply with a tone of sadness and longing.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong? Did the frog do anything to you?"

Oui. He did. I stay silent, and hope that Dad will get the idea that I don't want to talk right now.

"Come on lad, you can tell me."

I look out the window and ignore him. I shift slightly and whimper as the pain from earlier returns. Oh Dieu i hope he didn't notice. Dad started to drive slower. He was speaking in a quiet, low tone now. "Did he hit you?"

I pause. Non. Non. Non. I can't tell him. I told Papa that I wouldn't tell anyone... If I did tell someone... I would be punished again.

I bite my bottom lip and shake my head with a worried look on my face. Dad pulls the car over. He must have seen that I was lying. He turns to me and mouths the words "He did."