Pippin's POV
My father glared at me with bloodshot eyes. He looked like a monster from a fairytale. He was dirty, sweaty, and his breath smelled like beer. But oddly enough, amidst the red was a brilliant green that almost twinkled in the candlelight. I couldn't hit my father, who was I to try? He succeeded every time. I'd fail, and he'd be the victor, and the more I tried the more it would hurt in the end.
He grunted and threw my sister to the bed, discarding her like yesterday's trash. He moved toward me and slapped me hard across the face with the back of his calloused hand. My cheek stung, I could feel blood from where my lip made contact with my teeth.
"Look at me, boy." He grunted. I raised my chin and met his angry gaze. For a moment we stood there in silence, his pride defeating mine. "Just can't mind your own business, can you?"
He grabbed my wrist and plucked the brush from my hand like a weed in the garden.
"Out with you." He said.
"Leave my sisters alone-" I managed to say, barely audibly. The back of his other hand met the other side of my face even harder than the last time, and this time his wedding ring made a cut in my cheek. I wouldn't have left if I hadn't realized that he was following me out into the hall. I walked as slowly and I could let myself. My body pressed me to run. My father closed my sister's door; I turned around in time to see Vinca watching me with agony in her eyes. She was defeated, and as a result, so was I.
It was this point in my memory that I've always failed to comprehend. I accepted my loss, and I walked slowly into my room, bracing for a beating. Instead, my father closed my door softly behind me, and I heard him walk down the hall. He was gone for three days after.
My mother smiled the next morning and told me he had never come home that night, that he had left for business and he wouldn't be back for a while.