Disclaimer: I don't own Power Rangers or anything connected to them. Definitely not making any money from this.

Warning: There is the mention of child abuse in this chapter. Is it not descriptive in anyway. If you know someone that you suspect is being abused, please, report it. Okay, I'm off the soapbox and you have been warned.

3yrs 9mo

There were 126 lines on his ceiling. Over the past few months, he'd spent a lot of time looking up at them and had counted them repeatedly.

The floor had 473 squares that weren't covered by some piece of furniture. His dresser was bare now. Trophies he had collected over the years now gathered dust in a box in his closet. He was forbidden to leave them sitting out anymore. That lesson had been learned with 28 strokes of his step-father's shaving strap.

No posters were allowed to hang on the wall anymore. The ones he'd had were shredded in front of him while he knelt in the middle of his floor. His door had no lock and he was given no expectation of privacy. At any given time, his mom's husband could come barging in for whatever reason he saw fit. Violating that rule, by blocking the door with something, would result in another 'discipline lesson'. That one was reinforced with a switch that he'd have to go out and cut himself.

If anyone were to come into the house and look around, his bedroom would look like a guest room. There was nothing personal laying about anywhere. Each morning, his bed was made to his step-father's standards. For everything that was out of place or not up to par, a suitable punishment was found.

Crying wasn't allowed in the house, even his mother was forced to cry in the shower. That was if she cried at all anymore. Likewise, getting blood anywhere wasn't allowed. If he had to clean himself up after a 'lesson', there was to be no evidence of it left anywhere. Old black T-shirts had become his favorite rags. They were used to not only clean cuts, but to bandage anything that needed it. Black hid the red of blood really well.

At times, he almost wished that he had to take gym. Maybe then, someone would notice. If he had to dress out everyday, then maybe the PE teacher would see that something was wrong. Instead, he was made to change at home before his karate class. Several times, he almost spoke up about what was going on, but the thought of his mother being alone with the man she married made him keep his silence.

When he was told that he was going to be playing football and baseball if he wanted to keep taking karate, his heart fell. Two more things that could cover up the bruises that he got outside of his martial arts classes.

There were times that he wished that he was normal. That his family was normal. Other times, he realized that if his family had been normal, then his brother wouldn't be the person that he was or have the friends that he did. If his family had been normal, then he would have been dead by now. The thought that one day his mom might stand up for him kept him going. Above everything else though, an idea had started forming at the back of his mind. A way to get out of his situation.

Life was precious to him, but his was a living hell. The only thing that could make it better was to be with the one person he knew loved him, no matter that they were unable to see each other regularly. Hell, seeing each other at all was forbidden. That was a punishment he didn't know if he ever wanted to find out about. Slowly, he was building up a bit of cash. The unauthorized birthday cards his brother and 'uncles' gave him always held some money. That was all safely hidden beneath one of his dresser drawers. He was just waiting on a sign now. Something from his mother to tell him she was no longer there for him or that she still loved him. Another threat from his step-father against himself or his brother.

Yeah, that's all it was now. A waiting game. Until then, he counted. There were 3 different colors in the carpet. The last time he'd seen his brother, he'd been wearing two of the three colors he'd favored. At his side, the man that his brother loved wore one of his own favorite colors.

Three years, nine months since the last time he'd seen his brother. For Tyler Andrew Oliver-Johnson, it was all about numbers and doing something to pass the time until he could escape.

A/N: I have not abandoned any of my stories. Chapter 10 of "Family Stands" is in the works. The chapter holds a lot of information that is important for the development of the rest of the story and it's taking me a while to make sure it's 'right' for my readers.

In the mean time, I've realized that there is a gap that needs to be filled in my universe. To close that gap, I'm doing a series of one shots and small chapter fics to tide you over until the next chapter of "Family" is ready.