.
Nathan Drake gained consciousness, his body screaming in pain as his drunk, abusive father blasted his foot into his ribs. Sam, his brother, stood there helplessly, knowing there was nothing he could do to make his father stop.
"It's YOUR fault that your good-for-nothing mother committed suicide. It's ALWAYS YOUR FAULT!" Nate's father shouted, enunciating every word with hate. Nate started to cough up blood as he looked at his brother fearfully. As Nate started to lose consciousness again, there was a loud bang on the door. Their father froze mid-punch, paralyzed to the spot.
"It's the police. Open up!" called a voice from outside.
"Did… did you call the police?" his father silently whispered to Sam.
"Yes, and I'm not sorry. You were going to kill him." Sam boldly told his father, not scared that he was going to punch him. The police kicked the door down and wrestled Mr. Drake to the ground whilst shouting orders at him. Nate looked at the man in front of him; drunk, aggressive and violent. He was not his father. Nate didn't want anything to do with him. Sam saw paramedics carefully lift his brother on a stretcher. "I need to go with him," Sam explained to the paramedics. "I'm his brother. I need to. Please." They finally gave in and Sam hopped into the ambulance, reassuring Nate. He spoke to Nate all the way to the hospital, even though Nate was asleep.
Nate woke up. He was in a white, clean room, with wires hooked on to him and a strange mask covering his mask. His body hurt but he could not stay in this place. Nathan yanked the wires out of him, wincing slightly. Liquid squirted everywhere as he pulled the mask off and looked for an escape route. Damn. Nothing. He stepped gingerly onto the floor and tried opening the door but it was (of course) locked. Nate slammed his shoulder into the door with all his strength and the door opened. Pleased with himself, Nate stealthily crept outside, peering out of the window. It was around midnight. Perfect. Everyone knows that if you want something done, you wait for lights out. But just as he went round a corner, a nurse bumped into him. Crap. "What are you doing!" she exclaimed. Without hesitating, Nate ran, pushing her out of the way.
"Sam!" he yelled, searching everywhere for his brother. He looked in every room, but could not find him. Nate started sobbing, his limbs aching. His knees buckled underneath him and sleep overtook his body.
When he woke, he was, yet again, in the room. But he wasn't alone. A familiar face sat next to him. "Sam!" Nate exclaimed excitedly, jumping up in his bed.
"Whoa, little brother, you've had a bad day. Don't hurt yourself." Sam warned but he accepted his brother's hug.
"We've got to get out of here, they're going to kill us!" panicked Nate, leaping out of bed despite the wires in his arms.
"What are you talking about? You're in hospital. You know, after dad tried to kill you." Nate winced as he remembered the experience. "Where are we going to stay now though. I mean, mum's dead and dad is hopefully rotting away in a jail cell," Sam looked down at his feet. He always does that when he gets nervous. "Sam?"
"Don't be mad." Nate wondered why he wasn't answering the question.
"Jesus, just spit it out already!"
"…We're going into care. It's a place called St. Francis Boys' Home." Nate's heart dropped to his stomach. His eyes started to tear up. An orphanage. Without any parents to look after him.
"I don't wanna go." A tear ran down Nate's face.
"It's a really nice place and you can make tons of friends and you'll still have me and- "Sam stopped trying to reassure him when he realized it wasn't working. "I'll leave you for a minute." Sadly, he walked out of the ward, glancing back at Nate, whose head was looking down at the bed. He looked up at Sam with his ice blue eyes. His eyes normally had a strange kind of inquisitive spark in them. But right now; they had lost their spark.