"Miles!" Hunter screamed, running to where he lay unconscious. The young boy knelt by his older brother, tears brimming in the corner of his eyes. How could their father do something like this?! Striking them was bad enough, but this?! Too far. Way too far. Hunter looked into the eyes of the foul man hovering over Miles's body. Stifling sobs, he choked out in a hoarse whisper, "How could you Dad? How could you?"

Mr. Hollingsworth turned slightly at the mention of his name, eying the tears in his son's crystal blue orbs. What was going on?! Every person who crossed his path suffered endless cycles of pain and misery. Had he really just done that? Had he really just knocked his son unconscious? No, there had to be some logical explanation. Perhaps Miles had said some snarky comment or offensive remark that pushed him to do the unthinkable to his own flesh and blood. Yeah, that's gotta be it Mr. Hollingsworth thought. He glanced one last time to his youngest who was vigorously trying to shake Miles awake. Without uttering a single word, he turned towards the archway of the den and slowly walked away, never looking back. Hunter, seeing his father's departure out of the corner of his eye, cried out desperately, "Dad, wait!" but the tall, prominent shadow began to shrink, disappearing into darkness.

"Miles!" he cried again. "Miles wake up! Please!" Hunter shouted, but to no avail. He felt his eyes burn, the salty liquid threatening to spew at any second. "It's all my fault. It's all my fault!" Hunter cried out in agony, the tears finally streaming down this face.

"Hun-Hunter?" Miles stammered, the throbbing pain from the violent attack still present.

Hunter whipped his head up at the sound of his name. "Miles!" he shouted, a wave of relief washing over him. He quickly wiped his tear-stained cheeks with the back of his hand, sniffling slightly.

"Hunt-er what, what happened?" the older boy asked, slowly sitting up. He placed his hands behind his back in an effort to support his limp body.

Hunter bit his lip and quickly looked away from his older brother, silence consuming him.

"I-I remember get-getting into a fight? With Dad?" Miles asked, looking at his younger brother for help, but Hunter said nothing. He frowned slightly but decided against pressing him further; from what he had just witnessed, Hunter had been through enough tonight. Sighing, the eldest Hollingsworth child continued, "He threatened me and-that's the last thing I remember," he finished. It scared him greatly to think that he couldn't remember what had happened. How hard was he hit?

"It's all my fault," Hunter said slowly, his back still to his brother. He couldn't bear to look into his eyes; the guilt was eating him alive.

"Wha-what?" Miles asked, dazed and confused.

"It's all my fault," Hunter repeated with a lump in his throat. He looked back at him, fighting back the fresh new tears he felt coming on.

"Hunter, what are you talking about?" Miles asked, finally gathering the strength to sit up properly and face the other Hollingsworth boy.

"Don't you get it?" Hunter cried. "It's my fault! Everything! Dad going crazy, knocking you out, everything!" the young boy sobbed, his body beginning to shake violently.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no! It was happening! Just like Miles feared! Their father had done it; he'd gotten instead Hunter's head and manipulated him into thinking everything, all the destruction and annihilation of their family was his fault. That sick bastard! Their father, the supreme law of the land, had done the exact same thing to Miles, and he still wasn't okay, and probably never will be.

"Hunter, no!" Miles cried desperately.

"But it's true," Hunter whispered, so quietly Miles had to strain his ears to hear him. "And the only thing I can do is leave," he said, before dashing out the back door.

"Hunter, wait!" the oldest Hollingsworth sibling called, struggling to get up; he was still feeling extremely faint and dizzy from the blow to his head. He clenched his teeth in an attempt to maintain focus, but the colors in his vision began to blur, and Miles could feel himself falling until all that was left was darkness.

Mr. Hollingsworth sat in his bedroom, upstairs, away from his children. He was trying to finish writing a speech he had to deliver for next weeks press conference, but it wasn't going too well. This was unusual for the middle-aged father; he usually gave tremendous speeches that helped boost his fan base. He picked up the piece of paper he had been working on and began to read it quietly. He frowned halfway through and crumpled it up, angrily tossing it in the trash. Calm down, calm down he thought. The stress of the campaign had been one giant snowball effect, and his children were responsible; all the drama they caused (most recently and unexpectedly Hunter), was wearing him out, which left him no energy for his work.

Why couldn't he get them to behave properly? He was running for mayor, so the entire family was in the public eye. Didn't they realize that every little thing they did affected his potential career? Why didn't they care? Why didn't they care that they were screwing up? All he wanted was some gratitude for everything he, as their father, had done for them. All he received was constant whining and complaints.

Miles's eyes fluttered open like a butterfly spreading its wings. He groaned and sat up, wincing at the slight pain he felt in his head. He faintly remembered passing out—twice. The first had been after his dad…wait what exactly had he done? Thrown him onto the ground? Kicked his head? He sighed, the possibilities of scenarios were terrifyingly endless. Whatever his father did, it hurt, a lot. Enough to knock him out. Who does that do their own son? Being unconscious was serious, more so than a slap; if he was out much longer, well, Miles didn't want to think about the consequences. He sighed again, trying to remember the second time. It was right after Hunter—oh shit. Hunter! Miles had completely forgotten his brother's meltdown. He could be anywhere! On top of that, it was pitch black outside and pouring rain. Poor Hunter… Miles mind began to wander off, but a sudden crackle of thunder brought him back to reality. He had to find his brother. He had to.

Jacket, check. Keys, check. Phone, check Miles murmured to himself. He was frantically running around the house, gathering his things to go out and search for Hunter. His rapid, intense movement matched the violent forces of nature outside; loud booms of thunder could be heard over the buckets of rain that seemed to pour endlessly from the gray clouds above. Miles took a minute to calm down, his heart thumping wildly in his chest to the beat of a crazed drummer. He sighed, poor Hunter was out, all alone, lost and afraid; but worst of all, he thought everything was his fault. Miles swallowed a lump in his throat as he thought this, for he knew exactly what Hunter was going through; he had been down that road before, the twisted and destructive road of self-loathing and hopeless despair. He remembered the feeling of being completely and utterly useless, like there was nothing he could do to stop the dysfunctional family that is the Hollingsworth. No one, and he meant no one should ever get to a place that dark. He wouldn't wish it upon his worst enemy; it was a nightmare. Miles shuddered, trying to shove the unpleasant memories out of his head. Now that he'd experienced it first hand, it was up to him to stop Hunter from going down that same road.

Miles was about to run out the door when he realized he had forgotten his wallet; inside contained his drivers license. He didn't want to risk getting caught while trying to find Hunter. He could only imagine the ordeal if he was pulled over; Oh, sorry officer, I don't have my license with me but I really am 16 because what other 16 year old drives an expensive car in the middle of a storm looking for his brother who ran away because their dad is a scumbag who cheats on his wife and abuses his children both physically and emotional but then buys them nice things like this car to make up for it?

The young teen chuckled to himself; he couldn't help it, sometimes he needed to be a satire to help him cope with all the family drama. He had to admit, sometimes things were so crazy at home that he questioned why the Hollingsworths didn't have their own tv show, one similar to that of the Kardashians. He shook his head as he started up the stairs, trying to remember where he'd left his wallet. Before he could even reach the top step, a sharp pain came in contact with the blade of his shoulder. He whirled around, gasping in surprise of the sudden, brisk force. A low growl suddenly rose in Miles's throat as he watched his father hurry down the staircase, not even bothering to apologize.

"Hey!" the young teen shouted. When his father didn't respond, Miles tore down the stairs, infuriated. "Look at me!" he demanded, his patience wearing thin with every word he spoke.

Mr. Hollingsworth stopped dead in his tracks at the sharp tone of voice. He hated when Miles disrespected him.

"What do you want Miles?" Mr. Hollingsworth asked, turning to face him as if his son was of zero importance to the millionaire.

The brown-haired boy stared incredulously at his father before shouting in protest, "What do I want? Is that a joke? What I want is for you to clean up your act!" Mr. Hollingsworth held up a finger to intervene, put the determined teen cut him off, "You keep saying that you'll try harder but that's bull!"

Mr. Hollingsworth glared at son before interjecting, "You watch your mouth young man!"

"Or what, you'll hit me?" Miles cried, unable to stop the words from escaping his lips. Tears were brimming in the corner of his eyes. He swallowed once, trying to maintain his composure, but the harder he tried, the harder he felt the vicious liquid whelm up in his bloodshot eyes. He blinked; years of torment and pure hatred for the man screaming behind that simple remark. They were dying to be heard by someone, anyone, but it was all masked by the young boy's inflated ego, an ego he had adapted from the man standing before him.

Mr. Hollingsworth stood glaring at his eldest son, lips thin as razor blades, a clear sign that Miles should not have just said that. The middle-aged man threw back his hand, quick as a whip, and struck his son across the face in a viscous backhand, almost identical to the one his other son had suffered earlier.

Miles stumbled backwards from the harsh blow, clutching his cheek in pain. A single tear escaped from his eye, stinging his bruised face briefly before resting on the bridge of his nose. His heart caught in his throat as he realized that that was the second time his father had hit him (not including the countless times he violently grabbed his arm or threw him into the wall). The troubled teen bit his bottom lip to stop from quivering; he was sure if this happened, tears would soon fall harder than the rain outside.

"So you see," drawled his father, his tone dripping with silk. "I'm not the one pulling the punches," he paused, eyeing his son's irritated expression in amusement. "Well, you know what I mean," he chuckled. "Here you are, all fired up, ready to go, but your tongue and bad attitude are the things that cost you, not me."

"No," Miles whispered.

Mr. Hollingsworth frowned. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"No," Miles repeated, more defiant this time. "No! Nothing I say or do could ever justify the pain you've put me through, physically and emotionally," he spat, stealing at glance at his father, but he was shocked beyond belief. Miles smiled to himself, that small yet simple victory was enough to keep him going. "Your little mind manipulation game is the reason Hunter ran away. And if you can't see that, then you need to leave once and for all," he paused, unsure if he should say what his mind was begging him to shout. He closed his eyes, contemplating. If he didn't get it off his chest now, he was going to regret it for the rest of his life. He opened his eyes and stared straight at man whom he hated the most and said, "You're hurting your family by staying."

A/N

I know, I suck at updating, but it's just been really hard to find time to write. I had ALOT going on at school before winter break, and the days leading up to Christmas were hectic as well. But, anyways, I'm back now and have about a week and a half of break left, so I'll try to update one more time before I go back to school. Happy holidays!