Brendan's words were still ringing in Ste's ears as he climbed the steps to the club that evening. Everything was starting to make sense, why Brendan had been so guarded, so ashamed, so violent when compared to his father—the man that had started abusing Brendan in the worst way when he was just a boy, no older than Leah was now. The thought made Ste shudder.

It wasn't until he reached that top of the outdoor steps that Ste could hear any activity from the inside over the sound of the rain. The year earlier, Cheryl had the whole club sound-proofed and re-insulated after noise complaints had come from the nearby flats. Now even on a busy Friday night, no more than a slight thumpa-thumpa could be heard coming from the front door of the club as punters streamed in and out of the club during peak hours. On nights like tonight, between the trickle of the rain and the rumble of thunder, you could hardly tell that a night club resided in the center of the otherwise seemingly sleepy town. But Chez Chez was the one place Ste wanted to be on this quiet night. It was the one place, besides the flat they now shared, where he knew Brendan would take shelter.

As he approached the door, he could hear distinctive Brady sobs. Sobs similar to those Ste had heard from the siblings on the day of Lynsey's death, the day that rattled them both to the core. This could only mean one thing, that Brendan had followed Ste's advice and told Cheryl everything. Well at least everything about Seamus, and the childhood she had candy coated in her memory. Ste's hand hovered over the door handle, trying to decide for himself if this would be an appropriate time to interject. He knew Brendan had to face this confession to Cheryl on his own, but he also wanted to be there to show his support. Worse yet, if Cheryl in the off chance didn't believe Brendan, Ste knew he had to be there to comfort Brendan in the rejection of the one person that had never let him down. He lingered there in the rain for what felt like an eternity before finally swinging the door open with confidence that he was making the right move.

And just like that reality shifted. Ste suddenly felt a chill run through his body, and it wasn't from his tracksuit that was now soaked from the rain. It was from the scene that lay before him, a puzzle his mind was yet to put together. Luckily his body acted faster than his mind could, and without missing a beat he slammed shut the door behind him and fastened the dead bolt. If there was one thing Ste could comprehend in this moment, it was that no one else could be allowed to interrupt this most private of family occasions.

"It's not going to be a secret for much longer Da." Brendan's voice trembled.

"Is that so?"

Without missing a beat Brendan was on the floor, a punch to the gut. Brendan was a grown man now, taller and stronger than Seamus, and should have been able to fight back take his father down. But the low blow had taken him off guard and left him vulnerable with Seamus hovering above.

"You know, I think you secretly liked it…yeah, that's why you never told anybody. That's why you never ran away. You loved the attention."

Did Seamus really think he enjoyed it? That Brendan had asked for and relished in the attention he had received from his father all those years ago. It had made Brendan into a monster, a man that felt distant from his own children and a man that had hurt everyone he'd ever loved.

"Stay away, stay away from me" was all Brendan could muster as his father stepped closer. With each step, each memory of the abuse came rushing toward Brendan. He was suddenly the helpless 8 year old again—hearing his father's footsteps coming up the stairs, smelling the stale smoke on his skin, tensing at the malice in Seamus' voice, dreading what was on the horizon.

"You know you've been a bad boy."

"No I haven't." Brendan pleaded…with his dad, with God, with whoever would listen now, that had never listened before.

"And you know what happens for being a bad boy." Seamus laughed drily.

"No dad, please" please, please please, make this stop make this go away. Brendan readied his multiplication tables in his head, though no one would give him a gold star now. "Please Dad."

With Seamus' hands on his lapel, Brendan saw his eyes change. From the sinister gaze he remembered as a child, to that of confusion and fear. In an instant Seamus stopped dead in his tracks.

Literally—dead.

Seamus' body slumped to the floor as he took his last breaths. While Brendan struggled to comprehend how this had happened, relief washed over him. Had his prayer's finally been answered? Did God finally cut Brendan a break?

His eyes looked up to the source of a noise he now recognized as a gunshot. Someone had shot Seamus. Standing across from him, gun in hand, was…Cheryl?

After seeing the video on that flash drive, everything from Cheryl's childhood had been turned upside down. How could the father that showed her nothing but loving affection, been such a monster? How had he abused Brendan, his own son, for years without anyone knowing? Cheryl's head was a mess. It swirled with memories, as she looked back at the signs she should have noticed. Brendan's broken bones and how his sunny disposition would change the instant Seamus would walk into the room. She felt sick, remembering the vacation at their Nan's beach house, where Brendan had been having such fun before their Da had showed up.

Along with the memories, she had questions. So many questions that she needed answers to: When did it start? Did anyone know? Why hadn't Brendan told? Why hadn't it been her? Last she had spoken to Seamus; he was going to the pub to check up on his investment. She couldn't face the thought of seeing him just yet, so she headed to the club, the place she was sure Brendan would go to feel safe after the previous day's events.

As she was leaving the flat she remembered the gun she had found under the sofa. She had tucked it into the waist band of her pants hastily when the door bell rang. She now recognized it as the same gun in the video, Walker's gun. Before she could ponder it any longer, she was at the lower entrance of the club. As she entered she could just hear voices upstairs before hearing a thud. She inched up the stairs silently. She had been lied to enough in her life; she figured she deserved the truth even if it meant eavesdropping.

"You know, I think you secretly liked it…yeah, that's why you never told anybody. That's why you never ran away. You loved the attention." The disdain and cruelty of what her father was saying made her skin crawl, as the tears that had previously dried on her cheeks began to fall again.

"Stay away, stay away from me." She recognized the voice to be Brendan, but it seemed smaller and more childlike than ever before. She continued up the steps slowly, her body compelling her to face reality.

"You know you've been a bad boy." Seamus started removing his jacket as he neared Brendan. All of the confessions made in that video were being validated as true before her very eyes, and it was happening right here, right now. After years of being blinded by her father's charm, Cheryl could finally see him for what he really was.

"No I haven't." After years of not being able to protect Brendan, now was her chance. As she reached to top step, she remembered the gun at her hip.

"And you know what happens for being a bad boy." As Seamus grabbed hold of Brendan, Cheryl grasped the gun in both hands.

"No dad, please…please Dad." Cheryl made her next move before Seamus could make his. She pulled the trigger and shot her once beloved father

It was over, he had finally been stopped. Seamus dropped to the floor, his lifeless body next to Brendan's shrunken frame. Her momentary bravery washed away as Brendan's fearful eyes slowly met her. The slow tears that had started in silence now became quick uncontrollable sobs as reality came into focus.

Brendan wordlessly urged her to lower her gun, and she did so as he approached her cautiously. He removed the gun from her hands, gently pulling her into an embrace.

"It's okay, it's okay." Brendan repeated.

Cheryl knew it was meant to soothe, but there was no comfort here. She had just killed her own father, a man she had loved and respected a mere hour ago, to protect the brother she loved in equal measure. Brendan placed the gun gently on the sofa before turning her to sit on the steps below. As she sat, a door slammed shut. Startled they both turned to stare blankly at their new guest.