A door slammed open, probably denting the thin plaster wall, and Matthew's head jerked up from his book. An obviously drunk Arthur stumbled into the room, a bottle of dark liquor in one hand, the other clutching the wall. Francis stepped out of the kitchen, Alfred holding his leg and an apron tied around his waist and chest. His eyes fell when they landed on Arthur. He picked up Alfred and gently pushed him towards Matthew.
"Take your brother to your room. Don't come out no matter what." Alfred just nodded and grabbed Matthew's hand, pulling him into their room.
"Alfred?" Matthew looked up at his older brother, his violet eyes wide and scared. He looked so young and innocent. Alfred felt his eyes prick and sting but he bit back his tears. He wrapped his arms around Matthew and buried his face in the blonde curls.
"Don't worry, Mattie." He whispered quietly. As he spoke a loud crash resounded against their door. More crashes and the sound of broken glass filled their peaceful house. Shouts and yells and cries echoed around them. Curses and words that ears of young boys shouldn't hear bounced off the walls. Picture frames of happy memories lay in ruins on the scuffed hardwood floor.
And locked in a room sat two boys, brothers, clinging to each other. Alfred refused to cry. He would stay strong for Matthew. Suddenly their door crashed open. Arthur staggered into the room. His hands were cut and bleeding. His eyes were swollen and red. He set his sights on Alfred.
"Come on. We're leaving." He growled, reaching forward and yanking Alfred up by his collar. Alfred clung to his brother's hand.
"Alfred! No!" Matthew shouted tears spilling down his face.
"I'm sorry, Mattie." Alfred managed to choke out before Arthur dragged him out the door. Matthew stared at the door. He hadn't noticed the wet tears on his face. Francis stepped forward and started shouting at Arthur but Matthew couldn't hear it.
His brother was gone. Arthur was gone. Half of who he was, was gone.