(Warning for child abuse.

Also in this chapter are multiple nods to little details on the show. See if you catch them.)

I sat moping on the front step. I was too young to feel so miserable. Surely this wasn't the way everyone felt at the age of four. Or did they? Was my family normal after all? I didn't know. Did other families live in fear?

I looked over at our neighbor, a man with a white moustache who was out raking leaves in his front lawn. I wondered if he carried secrets as painful as mine. Or the neighbors on the other side, the young couple who walked their Great Dane every morning. Did they live in fear of each other? What about other little kids? I had seen a boy and a girl, about twice my age but little all the same, playing down the block. Did they hide from their Daddy in the evenings, I wondered? How did they find happiness?

Just then, I saw Aaron walking up the street from the bus stop, holding his backpack strap with his right hand rather than carrying it on his back. I didn't want to see him right now because I didn't want to think about his pain. Aaron stopped at the edge of our yard. I waited for him to go inside and start nailing his head to his books, like always. Instead, I was surprised to see the hint of a smile trace his lips.

"Hey, c'mon. Go get your soccer ball."

I couldn't believe my ears. Did he really mean it? Not waiting to find out, I rushed inside to find my (probably dusty) ball. Aaron dropped off his stuff in his room and rejoined me moments later in front of the house. Our's was not a busy street; nobody minded children playing on the road and sidewalks. I had dreamed of being one of those children for much too long.

Aaron laid one of our empty trash cans on its side next to our fence and played goalie. I felt my spirit soaring free at last as I ran and kicked the ball toward his legs. He blocked it easily and rolled it back with a word of advice. I followed his tips each time and worked on my aim. When I landed a perfect kick that sent the ball thudding into the bottom of the trash can, Aaron actually cheered for me.

"You should be a soccer coach!" I squealed, delighted.

"Sure, maybe someday," said Aaron. "Now let's go at it again."

This time I kept the ball as long as I could, dribbling it furiously with my feet. Aaron jumped into the fray and tried to gain control of the ball, but I held up my hands and warded him off each time. It must have looked silly—the tiny squirt aggressively fending off the lanky teenager. Aaron must have thought so, because he laughed. It was the first time I had ever, ever heard him laugh. And such a funny, falsetto laugh. He sounded truly happy, and I couldn't help laughing along. It was just what I needed.

The only thing that could ruin the moment pulled up the street soon after. We stopped playing and I picked up the ball. Father's blue car came to a grinding stop on the gravel in front of the house. I followed Aaron's gaze and saw the six-pack on the dashboard.

Father stood out of the car and slammed the door. He wasn't entirely steady as he cast a fiery glare at us.

All our neighbors had gone inside. It must be our turn now. Though the fun was over, I was so grateful for that moment of joy with my brother. I wouldn't forget that.

As Father came storming in our direction, Aaron turned to me. "I need you to clean the playroom, okay? It's a mess!"

It took me a second, but I recognized the codename for the game we invented. "Okay, I'll clean it up!" I said, and hurried past Father to the front door. If Father had been thinking clearly, or simply been sober, he would have known there was no playroom in his house. But he didn't seem to notice, and I got safely inside.

I hurried to the last good hiding place I had tried out, the cupboard under the upstairs bathroom sink. I fit in there perfectly, and I had told Aaron it was the best place to hide. I climbed in under the pipes and squeezed myself next to soap bottles and toilet paper. I eased the door shut, and then waited.

It must have been about thirty minutes before the cupboard door opened. Aaron peered inside, sporting a nosebleed. He looked at me for a minute in that tight space, then nodded. "Good hiding. You're safe now."

As I crawled out after him, I realized how good it felt to finally have someone I could feel safe with. Though Aaron spent the rest of that day doing homework, I felt significantly more optimistic about life and at least more secure than before. I hung out just outside his room, and he didn't seem to mind. I knew he would protect me.

The news that Aaron had an appointment for a dental filling the next day hit me like a rock. I heard Aaron begging Mother to bring me along to the appointment, but she insisted she needed to talk to him alone in the car. She then reassured him that I would stay in my room all afternoon and not bother Father. She came to me and told me to play quietly in my room with the door closed until she and Aaron returned from the dentist. I absolutely dreaded the idea, but what could I do?

The afternoon started out fine. When I tired of driving my cars in circles under my bed, I gathered all my picture books to flip through. I tried to relax. I hadn't heard a sound from downstairs. With luck, Father had forgotten I was in the house.

I finished the book with pictures of a chef in a restaurant. Suddenly I heard a thump on the stairs. I stiffened and put all the books aside. I hopped off my bed and watched the door warily. Nothing.

Just as I turned away, the door banged open. I whirled around, staring open-mouthed and wide-eyed. Father looked livid. The smell of beer made me feel sick.

I felt light-headed and terrified. I didn't know where to go or what to say. It was like being thrown into the pilot's seat of a jet going 500 miles per hour without any prior instructions or advice. And with the windows all covered up. I felt myself on a collision course with a mountain. Where was Aaron to land the jet?

"Quit staring like an idiot!" Father bellowed. HIs drunkenness matched his boiling anger. "I have had it. I should not have lost that prosecution! Someone has to pay for the crime. Someone must pay!"

My pulse thundered in my ears. "Please don't—" I began pleading.

His flying palm cut me off. It set half my face on fire and knocked me to the ground. I screamed as I fell.

"Shut up!" Father yelled, and slapped me again. The pain was unbearable; I thought my face would split in two. I was seeing double. Completely petrified, I could do nothing as he lifted me by my shirt and slapped me down again. Explosions of pain rocked every bone in my head. If my skull didn't shatter soon, I knew my nose would come off.

Hot, wet blood streamed from my nose down my face. I started choking on it.

"Cut that out!" ordered Father as he raised his hand to strike again.

The sound of the phone ringing downstairs was like sweet ointment to my wounds. My body, tensed in anticipation of more pain, relaxed as Father went grumbling and staggering away to answer the call. Had he not been interrupted, I am sure I wouldn't have lasted much longer.

And then the flood of fireworks tore through my face. My cheeks felt hot and damp. The pain wracked through my head in a white wave so powerful my vision spotted. Blood kept dripping from my nose down the front of my shirt. How could Aaron take this nearly every day and on a much more extreme level? On top of everything else, I felt like throwing up.

I sat there curled up next to a bedpost, hands tucked between my knees, staring straight at the striped wallpaper without moving. I remained frozen like that for at least twenty minutes, all the while praying that Father would not return. I didn't notice any sounds the way my ears rang. I don't think I even blinked in that time.

Next thing I knew, someone knelt beside me and a hand touched my shoulder. I flinched and tried to crawl away.

"Sean, Sean, it's okay, it's Aaron."

I wiped my eyes and looked up into his stricken face. Aaron looked like he'd just seen a dead body get up and walk around, so great was his distress.

"Sean, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, so sorry..."

"It hurts," I managed.

"I know. I'm so sorry."

His hands shook as they brought a tissue to my nose. He almost seemed afraid to touch me, afraid to move or do anything. I tried to relax, knowing he understood my pain and my terror. I had to trust him.

"Come with me and I'll get you cleaned up," he whispered in a shaky voice.

Aaron helped me stand and guided me with a hand on my shoulder across the hall to the bathroom. He then closed the door and set me on the counter edge. He spoke softly as he prepared a wet washcloth and antiseptic.

"I remember the first time he hit me. I still don't know why it started. It's very scary, but you'll get past it. It will become nothing more than a bad memory."

I looked at my bruised, swollen face in the mirror. I didn't think I could ever get past this one. The pain was unforgettable.

The cleaning materials stung my face and I tried to pull back. But Aaron held me in place with his right hand on my arm and his left, still in a cast, dabbing the wounds. His eyes shone with unshed tears the entire time.

When he finished cleaning my face and putting a Band-Aid under my eye, Aaron lifted me down from the counter. "I should never have left you alone with him," he muttered. "I can't risk letting him catch you alone in your room again. Why don't you sleep in my room?"

I sniffled.

"Come on, let's get you a clean shirt first."

Aaron fetched my pajamas and closed the door to my room. While I sat on his bed, he snuck a couple tuna sandwiches from the kitchen. Then we both sat on his bed and nibbled the stale meal.

I started to relax over supper as the pain eased up. The state of shock was wearing off, and the excitement of sleeping over with Aaron started setting in. I regained my talkative manner and started asking more questions than Aaron wanted to answer. It turned out Aaron wasn't in such a conversational mood.

I felt sleepy already and crawled under the thin covers. But Aaron seemed to think he could study for awhile before turning out the light. He had even borrowed one of Father's law books to add to his reading list. I started whining, feeling entitled to a little comfort after what I'd been through. Finally Aaron closed his textbooks and got ready to turn in. However, brotherly conflict proved unavoidable.

"Sean, you've got to move over. Get as close to the wall as you can."

"I want to be in the middle of the pillow."

"There is only one pillow. We have to share. Now scoot over."

I complied with a sigh. Aaron climbed in on his stomach beside me, and I quickly realized how cramped the dimensions of his bed were.

"You're squishing me, Aaron. Roll over."

"If I move, I'll fall. Be content."

"Can't... breathe!"

Aaron sat up on his knees. "That's enough. You have plenty of room. Unless you'd like to sleep under my bed?"

"Why can't you?"

"Because it's my bed!"

But our argument was trivial and short-lived. I soon became preoccupied with finding all the squeaky parts of the mattress where the springs were weak. I shifted my weight up and down to make the springs sing.

"Are you going to sleep or not?" Aaron asked.

"Can you read me a story?"

"If you'll lie quietly."

So Aaron read me a chapter from one of his books, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. It ended up making me hungry again, but I didn't mention this. With the lights out, we were finally ready to sleep. I noticed that Aaron would only lie on his stomach or his side, though I found it much more comfortable on my back. It occurred to me later that he still couldn't put any pressure on his wounds.

About fifteen minutes later, I heard the bang of my bedroom door being thrown open on the other side of the wall. It startled me out of a light doze. Then I heard Father bellow, "Where are you, little brat? I'm gonna finish what I started!"

Fear gripped me, and I moved closer to Aaron. He sat straight up.

"He's losing his mind," Aaron muttered. He swung his legs out of bed and moved the lamp from the dresser to the floor. Thumping and crashing sounds shook the wall, along with shouts of my name. I trembled and whimpered. Panting, Aaron pushed his short dresser from the corner and planted it in front of the door. Then he rejoined me.

"Don't make a sound," he whispered.

It was hard not to. Judging by the noises, Father had left my room and was heading for Aaron's.

A fist shook the door. "Aaron! Sean! Where are you pieces of trash?"

A faint cry escaped my lips. Aaron's hand clamped over my mouth.

The doorknob rattled like the tail of a desert snake. More thumps shook the door in its frame.

"Aaron! I'm going to bust your head in! Then I'm going to find your brother and break his spine. You two are finished!"

I felt the blood leave my face. The hand over my mouth felt clammy. I wanted to cry.

A vertical crack of light appeared alongside the door, and I gasped. But Father could not open the door any further. The dresser sandwiched between the door and the bed kept us barricaded safely inside.

"It's over, Aaron! I'll get you both!" Father screamed. The door latched, and we listened to his footsteps vanish.

Aaron moved his hand away from my sore face. "I wonder what ticked him off so bad."

"He said to me that the pros—the prosec—the case thing, you know, failed, and somebody had to pay for the crime."

Aaron scoffed softly. "That's because Dad is a terrible prosecutor." He paused. Then, "You know, I've been reading about law. Thinking of going into it. How would you like to be a lawyer, Sean?"

"I dunno."

"It's a good idea. Dad's such a bad lawyer. You and me, we'll beat him at it. We'll both be better lawyers than he ever was, and we'll prosecute people just like him who beat up their families. What do you think?"

It did sound like a good idea, though I wasn't sure what it entailed. "Yeah, I'd like to do that."

"You and me. Hotchner and Hotchner. Or one of us could just go by Hotch." Aaron's excitement surprised me, but it was good to hear his positive enthusiasm. "We'll do it. Promise you'll go with me on it?"

I was relishing the brotherly friendship that was so new to me. If this Hotch and Hotchner idea of his made him excited to be brothers, I was all for it. I knew I could learn more later. Yawning, I gave my agreement. "I promise. Let's be lawyers."