Troy's POV

"It's good to know that we are all here for each other" I spoke "It's how I got through my rough patch". The attention was now off of Newt and on to me.

"It started when I was 4 years old. You all know my dad is in the Navy (AN: I apologize if it's not the Navy, I honestly can't remember and couldn't find it) right? Well, he's not the man you guys may think he is. Being in the force has really fucked with his mind. One afternoon, when my father was home for a few days before being deployed again, something was different. He wasn't the loveable father I knew anymore.

His once warm and welcoming composure was something of anger and sadness. His vibrant brown eyes that were soft and comforting, now cold and hard. His usual smile he had when he walked through the door was now a grimace. His overall face has changed, too. He no longer looked young but rather weathered. What had happened to him must have been brutal because he wasn't the dad I knew.

When he spoke, his voice was gruff. He didn't hug my mom or me when he came home, in fact he barely acknowledged us. My mom and I assumed maybe this deployment took a toll on him and he was exhausted. After all it was eight months overseas spent around Russia. So, anyway, we let him be but the next day almost seemed worse. He was much more menacing, his expression clearly showing disdain. My mom and him barely spoke all day, being in a room with him was unsettling, in fact it was almost suffocating.

That night I went to bed on time as usual but I woke up in the middle of the night to screaming. It sounded like an argument between my parents, except my dad was the only one shouting. Of course being a 4 year old I got out of bed to see what was going on. I came out of my bedroom and sat at the top step because it was the perfect place to see what was going on in the kitchen but they couldn't see me. I overheard their conversation.

"James, calm down, you'll wake Troy" Mrs. Dixon soothed.

"So what, it probably won't be the first time I woke him" Mr. Dixon seethed. His tone was frightening. Nothing I had ever heard before.

"James, what's wrong? What happened in Russia?" Said Mrs. Dixon.

"You don't want to know the trauma I experienced or the people that were lost, Rebecca." James' voice completely shift from anger to sorrow. He sat down at the counter with his face in his hands, hunched over. My mother walked over to rub his back. "The whole reason we were there was because there was Intel that Russia had created a new weapon and was going to attack Japan with it because they want the land for their own use. Of course in the months our ship was over there some men had died here and there but then a few days ago…" James stopped. Rebecca didn't poke or prod but was comforting him. "A few days ago" he began again, "The Russians had entered Japanese waters. The Navy kept an eye on them and worked out some plans to intercept the attack and keep the citizens safe. The Russian ship had gotten into position and looked ready to fire. The captain ordered everyone to their station. I happened to be a look out on the deck near the life rafts… We were set and ready to stop them, when the unexpected happened. No one on board was prepared. Our Intel was all wrong. The new weapon wasn't on the deck of the ship, it was under it, and it didn't aim for the island, it was aimed at our ship. Before anyone could react, it fired at us. I warned them but it just wasn't fast enough. I jumped overboard just as the ship blew up. I remember it so vividly. The blast caused me to fly back, quite a distance from the ship. I hit the water hard. I didn't know which way was up, I had burns, there was a sharp ringing in my ears, and everything ached with excruciating pain, but I was alive, just barely. I was sinking further and further down when my adrenaline kicked in. I broke the surface and there was smoke, debris everywhere, and…" He choked up.

"Rebecca… There were so many" His voice was remorseful.

"So many… What?" Rebecca questioned, fearing she already knew the grueling answer.

"Bodies. They were dismembered and unrecognizable. They all just floated around me. The water was red. It was all so… I just felt… It's all my fault" He sobbed, "I lost everyone I knew and cared about. I was close with all of them, some I knew from training camp, gone. Just like that…" His sadness shifted to anger "It's the fucking Russains. They're responsible for all of this! I swear to god if I ever find the bastard that did this…" He slammed the table.

I sat at the stairs, silent and unmoving until what I saw next. It seemed like his dad was gone, as if he became a completely different person. Out of nowhere he flipped the chair he was sitting in and went for my mother. That's when I jumped from my spot to my mom. I may have only been 4 but I was protective of my mother. He cornered my mom "James what are you doing?!" Rebecca cried out, reaching for anything to protect herself or a phone. His hand came up and I jumped in front of my mom. His hand came down, right across my face. Stinging doesn't even describe the pain. The pain was so blinding I didn't move from the floor.

"Troy!" My mom kneeled down and picked me up "What the fuck is wrong with you?" she turned to my father.

"Well that's what he gets for jumping in the way" His voice was seething, maniacal, terrifying, and malicious, all wrapped into one. His hand came up again and hit my mom this time. She stumbled in pain but never dropped me. I remember screaming "Mom!" and he turned his attention back to me and hit me again but in the stomach this time.

"Keep making noise and the pain will only worsen" He threatened. I kept quiet. But this was not my dad. His eyes looked as if he were possessed. "And you" he pointed to my mom "Call a cop or tell anyone about this, I will kill you". He walked out the door. My mom and I curled up in the corner, tears streaming from our faces. That was our life now. We didn't see him for another few months.

Every time he was home the beatings got worse and he got smarter about where he would hit. There were also times he would act perfectly fine, like nothing was wrong and he had no knowledge of hurting us. After my brother was born, the beating stopped for a while. My mom and I thought it was over. But it came back when my brother was about 2. He began to drink very heavily and all of us were frightened.

A few years ago, my mom finally got the courage to call the cops. Our bodies were still fresh with bruises. Of course he denied everything. But eventually he was arrested, much to our relief. He has been sentenced for a long time. After that we moved, filed a restraining order, and he was obviously served divorce papers.

Ever since he came home that one night, he was broken. The trauma was so overwhelming he became another person. It doesn't excuse his actions and he will never be forgiven, but there is a part of me that still yearns for him, even after everything he did to us…" I finished my story. At this point surprised faces from the first story were now comforting gazes and nods.

"So is that where the scar on your leg really came from?" Sawyer questioned. I nodded. And silence fell over the locker room again.

"Well, I guess that leaves just me then…"

Hey guys. I have a poll up, so if you would go and check it out that'd be great :)