In the house in the city, two children and their father live in a small house. The house is blue, and the people living there are grey. Grey like a storm and eyes that matched the weather.

Sandra, or Sam by her friends, is the older child. She had golden hair and stormy eyes. Stormy eyes, like the one that brewing outside as we speak. She was tall for her age, which was just over fifteen. Her long hair was always back in a pony tail, though it still settled just above her waist. She always smiled, despite everything. It was a false smile, one that had seemed to be plastered to her face. Over time, though, it had become realistic and convinced everyone everything was alright.

Her little brother, on the other hand, was ten. His smile was genuine and his blue eyes matched the sky on a sunny day. He was always grinning and playing, not a worry showing on his face. He was a happy child. His golden hair was longer than most boys, the bangs settling just above his eyes. His hair was cut uneven and made it look messier than it was, probably because his sister was always the one who trimmed his hair.

Their father was a cold man. His hair was always messy and his eyes a dark green that seemed to change color depending on the light and his mood. Sometimes the eyes were grey, sometimes green, sometimes blue. His eyes were almost as unpredictable as his mood. His black hair was always greasy and cut worse than his son, Joshua. He always had a bottle at his side and a knife in his pocket.

Today, as young Sam and Josh entered the house, their father was yelling at the top of his lungs.

~Sam's POV~

"Where have you been? Tell me!" I stepped in front of my little brother as father brandished a bottle around, still screaming.

"Andrew, you don't want to alarm the neighbors."I whispered as I stared at my father's feet. I recognized his mood, it was one he held often. He wasn't going to stop, not until he took his anger out on something.

"How dare you call me by my-hic- first name! You will call me father or mister, but not Andrew!" He grabbed the broom that was beside him and hit me in the gut with it. I curled into a bottle, checking quickly to make sure Josh wasn't in the room. I covered my head as father began beating me with the broom, but I'd grown used to this sort of punishment. He only went for the body, not the face, because he didn't want anyone to know about his treatment.

He soon gave up though, as usual. He was a lazy d!ck, so his beatings never really lasted long. I ran upstairs as he tossed the broom to the ground and went back to watch tv on the couch. Josh was on his bunk when I entered our shared room. He was doing math as I grabbed a shirt from the closet and began changing, facing away from him. He wouldn't see anything anyways, you freaks, since I had a tank top underneath the t-shirt.

"Are you okay?" Josh asked as he looked up from his homework.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I smiled at him as I put on my work shirt and began packing my bag. He was already picking up his stuff. With his backpack in hand and my hand in the other, we headed back downstairs.

"Where are you going?"

"Work, sir."
"Why is he coming with you?" Father had started towards us, alcohol still in hand.

"I asked you if he could come with me and you said sure."

"Well I changed my mind." He took a swig and grabbed Josh's arm harshly. As he pulled the boy towards him, he smirked. I glared at him as Josh gave me a look of worry. "What? Don't trust me not to hurt my own son?"

"You hurt your daughter."
"You aren't my daughter!" He snapped and pushed his son away, the boy landing with a loud thud. I gave my brother a look that told him to go upstairs.

~Josh's POV~

Sister and father are fighting again.

Sister gave me that look, telling me to go up stairs while she and father talked. Talked. That's what sister told me what happened when she and pa are alone downstairs. If so, why does she always return with bruises and blood on her? I try so hard to think, maybe sister was telling the truth and the bruises and stuff is just from the mean girls and boys at school, but I know it's not.

I hear something crash downstairs and father was yelling. It reminded me so much of when I was younger. That night when something loud banged from the kitchen and woke me and sister up. It was so loud, like thunder.

I didn't see mom again after that night, I think she may have slammed the door really loud and that's what the noise was. We moved after that, too. We moved from our country home to here. I'm glad we did. That red stain on the ground was really gross looking.

That's why I'm afraid whenever I hear father yell at Sammy, I'm scared she'll slam the door too and I'll never see her again.

~Sam's POV~

He didn't grab the broom this time like I expected, he grabbed me. He grabbed my leg and dragged me over to the counter, letting go only to grab my hair instead. He turned on the stove and tried to pushed my face to it.

"Stop it!" I screamed as I struggled against him. I kicked him in the knee and fell backwards with him. "You f*cking psychopath! If anyone knew what you did to me, they'd have you arrested!"
And then where would Josh go?

He just glared at me as he stood. He said nothing as he gripped his now empty bottle tighter. He stepped forward until we were only a few inches from each other. With the stove turned off, I stood my ground and looked up at him.

With one swift move, he broke his beer bottle over my head.

~the father's POV~

What have I done? I stared at her motionless body as I held it in my arms.

"Sammy? Baby girl? Can you hear me?" I shook her slightly and brushed glass off her face. She didn't move as her hair became matted in blood.

What do I do? If she dies, what will happen to Josh, we have no other family. They're all I've got. Please, help me.