Rating: T (I just realized that I keep switching from regular rating style to fanfic dot net style, so sorry if that confuses you. XD)
Warnings: Abuse
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, slight friendship

"Richie! It's time to go! You're going to be late for school if you don't hurry up, mister!"

Richie Foley grimaced as he dabbed concealer on his black eye. When his mom's voice drifted up the stairs telling him to hurry up, he quickly closed the makeup container and examined his reflection in the mirror one last time. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do. Hopefully no one would notice. Tucking the makeup safely into his pocket in case he needed a touch-up later, he trudged down the stairs.

"Have a good day at school, honey," said his mom with a smile. She pecked him on the cheek. "Come straight home afterwards; your father is getting off earlier than normal."

Richie nodded and took a deep breath before stepping outside. It was a sunny day, which irritated Richie ever so slightly. He wanted it to be stormy and grey, not bright and full of sunshine. If he had to be so miserable, why the fuck did everyone else get to be happy?

He walked along down the sidewalk a ways before he heard a familiar voice call his name.

"Yo, Richie!"

With a smile, Richie turned to find Virgil racing up the sidewalk towards him. "Hey, man," he said as they fist bumped. "Running late, too?"

"Yeah, just a bit." They continued walking. "Dude, what happened to your eye?"

Richie tensed. He should have known that Virgil would see. Virgil always sees everything. "Ah, nothing."

"You sure? Cause I swear it looks almost like—"

"It's nothing, Virgil."

"All right. If you say so."

That night wasn't a very good night for the Foleys. Despite Shawn's plans to arrive home early, he didn't show up until nearly midnight. As soon as he walked in the door, Richie could sense the alcohol on him. The tall man stumbled in and put a hand on the wall to steady himself as the room began to spin.

In the living room, Maggie told her son to go upstairs, but Richie didn't move fast enough.

"BOY!" bellowed Shawn. "GET DOWN HERE!"

Richie hesitated near the top of the stairs. He knew what was going to happen. He had two choices. Choice A: Go downstairs and face his father without talking back. Choice B: Go upstairs and hope that Shawn wouldn't break down his bedroom door again. Neither option was very pleasing.

His decision took a split second too long. It gave Shawn just enough time to reach him on the staircase. Richie cried out in pain as he was thrown to the bottom landing. He heard a crack and white-hot pain shot through his arm. Tears sprang to his eyes, but he closed them and focused on making the pain go away.

After almost three years of being pushed around by his dad, Richie had gotten pretty good at letting his mind wander far from where his body was. This time he imagined that he was with Virgil, hanging out at the Hawkins' place and playing video games. He could barely feel the blows raining down on him from Shawn. He could barely hear his mom yelling and crying for her husband to stop. He just focused on Virgil and his smile.