His father was never like this before. Arthur thought back to when they would walk along the beach with an ice cream, or kick a ball around at the park. He used to be so different. One night that all ended. Arthur didn't know what had changed, or why he had come home a different person that night, but last year, his father got home from work late and was never the same again.

Today, Arthur was already used up. He lay on the floor in a heap and did his best to avoid eye contact. Stare at the ground, the corner, the wall, whatever would look least aggressive. He wasn't even sure what this round was all about. He'd come home from football practice and took a bottle to the side of the head the second he stepped through the door. Now it was just damage control. He could feel that a few of his ribs were already cracked and his wrist should not have been hanging at that angle. At least Alex wasn't home, so he didn't have to worry about that.

That's when he heard the door open. His brother threw a ball in the bucket and came running to their room. Arthur tried to warn him away with his eyes. He tried to get him to turn around, but the second Alexander saw him laying on the ground, Arthur could see he was overcome with concern and immediately rushed over to see if he could help.

"Leave" whispered Arthur. But it was too late, Martin grabbed Alex by the hair and threw him into the door. Alex let out a surprised cry and then fell to the ground grabbing the side of his face.

Arthur picked himself up, stifling a scream when the fresh pain shot through his body. He dragged himself over to Alex and then turned to face his father, gripping his right side where his ribs were injured.

"I didn't think you and I were through" he spat at his father as he felt his blood burned with adrenaline.

Martin glared at him and then let out a laugh. "Apparently not, son. But we can fix that right now"

Alex laughed back at him and then threw a right hook which landed perfectly on his father's jaw. It was Arthur, though, who took the worst of the blow since he used his now definitely broken right wrist. He did his best not to let it show, but his father saw through him and the fury that contorted his face was joined by a vicious grin.

He grabbed Arthur's wrist and twisted. Arthur cried out and dropped to one knee involuntarily. Arthur yelled "Run, Alex!" and then took a boot to the stomach, forcing all of the air out of his lungs. "Get back here you little shit!" yelled Martin as Arthur watched Alex scramble out the door. Then his father picked Arthur up off the ground by his throat.

"Where did he go?" he whispered, inches away from Arthur's face.

Arthur clenched his jaw and his father tightened his grip. "You better speak now, boy"

"Okay…okay" Arthur barely squeaked out with his fingers desperately looking for a grip on his father's hand.

Martin loosened his grip and allowed Arthur to fall back to the floor. Arthur hissed in pain on impact and tried to catch his breath while cradling his arm gingerly. Martin squatted down next to Arthur and hooked a finger under his chin to force his face up. "Well…?"

Arthur took one more breath. "Are you familiar with a place called boardwa-" he was cut off by a backhand across the face which sent him to the ground. He picked himself back up onto his knees laughing.

"I thought we agreed that we weren't going to play that little game of yours anymore."

"Eat shit and die, old man" Arthur rebutted with a wild grin on his face. He was immediately rewarded with a fist to the face and fell into welcome darkness.

Arthur came to the following morning in the same spot. His body ached all over and his wrist was the size of a melon. He tried to stretch and let out a tiny cry when his ribs turned to fire. He picked himself up off the floor and looked around the flat for Alex. He quietly walked past his mother who was still on the same couch she was last night. He placed the back of his hand in front of her mouth to make sure she was still breathing. Sometimes she overdid it with "mommy's medicine". Arthur, at 11, knew enough to understand that there was nothing healthy going into her body through those needles. Arthur was just waiting for the day she didn't wake up. Not that she ever truly did anymore.

Martin was passed out in his bed with a bottle of something dark spilled on the floor next to him. Arthur saw blood on his knuckles and reached up to touch his own sticky face, reassuring himself that it was his own and not Alex's.

There was no sign of Alex anywhere in the apartment and Arthur let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. He then set about splinting his wrist and making himself presentable. He washed his face and hair in the sink and gingerly put on some fresh clothes. He grabbed an extra set of clothes and their backpacks and left to get to school. He tugged nervously at the sleeve over his mangled wrist. Last time someone came around the house asking about an injury, Martin had almost taken Arthur's eye out with a pair of scissors and nothing useful came out of it. Arthur wasn't keen to repeat the incident.

He made his way through the forest to where he and his brother would meet when they needed to get away. He walked over to their lean-to and whispered for Alex to come out. There was no answer. Alex repeated himself a little more anxiously this time and still got no answer.

Did Alex make it out last night? Was there another reason he wasn't at home this morning? How could Arthur have been so stupid? He should've held out for longer. Made sure his brother really left and was out of harm's way.

He ripped back the drape and his heart sank when he saw no one inside. He panicked and started calling out for his brother, louder now.

"Calm down mate. I'm right here" Arthur heard behind him.

He whipped around and almost sank into the ground with relief. His brother was fine. The left side of his face was puffy and bruised, but he was fine and he was here.

"Jesus…you look like hell, Arthur" Alex said. "You have to stop egging him on to get him away from me…he's going to kill you one day" Alex reached up to investigate the cut on the side of Arthur's head.

Arthur pushed his hand away. "That's for me to worry about" Arthur said with a smile "I'm glad you got out though. We shouldn't both have to take his shit. Now, let's get going."

Arthur passed the backpack and clothes to Alex and gave him some privacy to get changed. He sat down painfully next to the tree and absently tossed stones across the clearing with his good hand. One day, Arthur swore it would all be different. He was going to get Alex and his mother out of this mess. One day, he was going to save them both.