A/N: Nothing new or unusual to say, so yeah, just comment if you liked it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Midnighters or any of its characters. Like, really, any of them. Well, maybe Rex's dad, sort of, because in the book he's in a bit of a vegetative state. And of course, the lurvely tarantulas.

6

11:42 P.M.

Rex

With his eyes closed, it almost felt like feathers were brushing over Rex's skin. Except of course, they were a bit more solid. They were legs, actually. Furry ones at that. And there were eight of them, crawling all over him….

Rex shivered, trying to block this knowledge out of his mind. Think feathers, think feathers…. It wasn't working. Who knows, maybe it would, if it weren't for the weight of his father's cruel eyes piercing through his very core.

A small sob nearly escaped his tightly pursed lips, but he wouldn't let it. No, because if it did this already grim situation would get far worse. The tarantulas were terrible enough. Having so many of them, seven, to be exact, crawling all over his bare flesh was like burning in his own, personal version of hell on earth. His dad's fists added to the equation would make hell seem like paradise.

"Had enough, Rex?" The cruel voice held no sympathy, no concern, only sick amusement and glee. Another sob was ebbing it's way up Rex's throat, and with the shock of one of the hairy little bastards nudging against his throat, seeming to be mocking the fact that it was the closest thing he had to a pet, it managed to break free.

And that was just what Rex's dad had been waiting for.

A sharp shock exploded along the surface of Rex's upper arm, and the healing bruise there pulsed unpleasantly. "What's the matter with you?" The voice could've been that of the devil himself. Rex would much rather open his eyes and see him than what he knew was really standing there.

"Do you want to be a pussy, Rex? Your momma ain't here to protect you, little boy. She's long gone, Probably ashamed to have you as a son."

Another strike hit Rex's body, this time on his left ribs.

Rex knew the statement from his father was a lie. A big heaping pile of bull shit, and Rob Greene was a big, foul bull who really drove his mother away. His mother, who was far from an angel herself, but whose presence kept away most of the beatings.

She didn't like spiders, either. It was one of the only pieces of evidence that proved that Rex was really part of this deranged family, if that was even a word that could be applied to the unit.

A sharp kick in the ribs, over the spot that had just been hit, made Rex's eyes spring over in shock. He had been squeezing them shut for the past half hour, wanting to keep one of his senses untainted by this awful experience, and he now saw how blurry the word was. From his lack of glasses, from the frightened tears he had been suppressing in his eyes, the world blurred.

That's it. He couldn't take it any more, and didn't care how much trouble he'd be in for it.

Rex picked up the first spider and threw it.

"Hey! What are you doing, the little punk!'

He was throwing more spiders, and as he threw the third, his father stormed toward him. Rob was always stronger, but Rex was much quicker.

He stood up and ran to his room, shaking off the tarantulas as he ran. His father's foot steps echoed in the hall behind him.

Rushing into his room and slamming the door shut as quick as he can, Rex leaned all his weight around it and clicked the lock. His father pounded on the door, and afraid it would give way, Rex shoved his desk chair under the knob. It wasn't much, but it would do.

"You open this door right now, kid!"

Rex wasn't the type to pray, and he wasn't doing it now, exactly. But he was hoping. And thinking about how badly he wanted this to end, for good, for his father to drop -

No. He couldn't wish that, could he? It was a cruel wish, one that any G-d would surely not answer, if He were listening. Not that Rex was praying, of course. But still, deep in his core, Rex knew that his father would deserve it. And it would be much better to be shuffled in the hands of foster care than to live one more day like this.

But what if he were taken away from Bixby, from Melissa, from Dex? From Midnight? They had no proof that it existed past their little town, and he wouldn't want to loose it. It was all he really had.

Wait a second - Rex glanced at his clock. It was almost time.

And as his father started yelling at the door even more, a reckless grin broke across Rex's face.

"I'll give you to the count of three. Then pussy, you sure as hell better get your wimpy ass back out here! One…tw -"

He didn't even get to finish the word. And Rex didn't wait until he did. He quickly pulled his clothes over to his abused body and climbed out the window.

Riding quickly to the parking lot where the midnighters had been meeting, Rex thought about the past three days. Nothing special had happened, not really. More going over what they all knew, and a few minor fights with slithers who they accidentally disturbed.

It amazed him how well Dess fit in with their already formed niche. Well, not completely. There was some obvious tension between her and Melissa, but they were girls. They'd get over it.

Every few meters Rex winced, pain slowing him down, but he didn't stop pedaling until he got there.

"Hey, Rex. I thought you were always on time." Dess smiled as he approached, her grin faltering as he came closer. As his face became visible to her.

Both girls looked at him with deep surprise and concern.

Melissa looked over Rex's face, her eyes tightening. He put a hand up to it. How bad did he look?

Then he noticed his arm. His bare arm. Rex always wore long sleeves, as a rule. That way no one ever saw his bruises. But he had accidentally thrown on a short-sleeved shirt as he escaped.

His pale, thin arms were covered with bruises, both purple and new, yellow and healing, or just red, angry patches of skin that were still forming. There were a series of small cuts on them, too. And this was only what he could see on his arms. What did his face look like?

Rex looked at Melissa and Dess, panicking. He and Melissa hadn't talked about what had happened a few nights ago. He could tell that she still remembered in the worried way she sometimes observed him, but he chose to ignore it. It was easier that way.

Now, there was no way to hide.

"Rex." Melissa said it softly, her eyes glistening. Not as if she truly felt his pain, both physical and emotional. More like she wanted to inflict injuries ten times worse on whoever caused it.

Dess moved her lips like she was reciting something, something to calm herself. But the surprise and tension lingered in her dark eyes.

Their gazes made Rex feel even more exposed than sitting there, naked and injured had.