Tyler Lockwood felt waves of pure rage roll through him during the clashing and colliding of bodies on the football field. Practice was a time for him to channel his anger but on this particular day he could not turn the feelings off. In the locker room he started a verbal confrontation that quickly escalated to punches being thrown. Tyler did not care about getting hit considering he already had bruises on his face and chest from his father. He only wished to inflict pain on someone else. It was the easiest way for him to deal with his life.

He never thought about how his father treated him, he just accepted it. This was apparent in every encounter he had with the man. He could ignore the abuse and just pretend that there was nothing wrong with the dynamics of his family. It was easier that way.

His chosen approach was demonstrated that very night as he walked into his kitchen and saw his mother and father, obviously upset. "Hey family." He said, looking down quickly and continuing towards the leftover food he knew was in the refrigerator. He habitually ignored his mother's tears as she regularly ignored his bruises and occasional screams when his father was hitting him.

His father turned and walked toward him, causing Tyler to hesitate and brace himself when his dad reached out and examined his face.

"Look what you did." His mother said through angry tears, not moving from where she stood. "People are talking Richard." She added.

"Shut up." He spat, silencing his wife. "You ok, son?" he said tilting his head with what they all knew was fake compassion.

"Yes sir, I'm fine." Tyler said, knowing what his dad wanted to hear.

"You tell anyone where you got that?" His father said in a tone that heightened the intensity of the situation.

Tyler did not know how to respond. He didn't know whether to deny it or choose the story he had made up as if it were the actual truth.

"He would never." His mother said, emotions pouring out in every word. It was a declaration of fact as well as her disgust. "Just get away from him." She said being a protective mother for once.

"From my own son?" Tyler's father said feigning surprise and outrage but not meaning any of it. Tyler was too afraid to pull away from his dad's grip on his jaw. His nerves were getting the best of him as his dad slid the gym bag and backpack from his shoulders. Tyler made fearful eye contact with his mother knowing what was coming.

"Richard, don't you dare hurt him again." She challenged.

"Don't fucking tell me what to do." He seethed moving his hand to Tyler's neck and forcing him towards the island in the center of their kitchen. Tyler was then held down by his neck, bent uncomfortably backward over the counter. He barely fought back.

"Understand, bitch?" his father said staring at Tyler's mother.

"Stop, Richard!" She sobbed. He responded by slamming Tyler down on the tile counter, his son's head making blunt contact with the tile.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" she yelled as Tyler grunted in pain.

Mr. Lockwood let go of his son and left the room satisfied. Tyler rolled over on the counter clutching the back of his head. By the time he looked up his mother was gone too. After a few minutes recovering he grabbed his bags as well as dinner and headed up to his room.