Chapter Two

After dinner, Kyle's dad dropped me off at home. It was 10 pm, and the lights were still on. Which meant Dad was still up, and probably fighting with Mom. Kevin was sitting out on the front porch, smoking from a bowl. I hope Karen wasn't up to hear the arguing. Or to see Kevin like this.

I walked up the front path and stopped in front of my brother. "You know you shouldn't be smoking that shit, right?" I scolded him.

Kevin looked up at me, blowing a plume of smoke at me. "It's legal in Colorado, dude," he said smugly.

I rolled my eyes. "That does matter. So is alcohol, and tobacco."

"Which are both much worse than a little pot," he cut in.

I narrowed my eyes. "Not when it's laced with shit," I said bitterly. "Which half of the stuff you have is."

He snorted. "Just because you had ONE bad trip when you smoked with me…"

"I almost fucking died, dude!" I snapped at him. "Remember the seizure I had? I fell and hit my head, and you nearly let me bleed out because you thought I was a jar of fucking tomato sauce on the ground, and you thought it was hilarious."

"But did you die?" he asked.

"Well, I would have if Craig hadn't come along-"

"But did you die?"

I fucking hate him when he does this. He always holds that "did you die" shit over my head. I'm not really sure if he knows about all that shit that used to happen, but if he does, it's really fucking low to pull that on me.

"I'm tired," I grumbled. "I'm going inside."

Kevin scoffed. "Good luck," he said, shaking his head. "Mom and Dad have been at it for a while. Why do you think I'm out here?"

That's what I was worried about. "Is Karen awake?" I asked.

"What does it matter?" he responded. "She's used to it by now."

"That's not a good thing," I muttered as I stepped through the door.

And it began. Or rather, continued.

"THAT'S BECAUSE YOU CAN'T HOLD A JOB, YOU DRUNK PIECE-A SHIT!"

"WELL MAYBE I WOULDN'T BE DRUNK ALL THE TIME IF I HAD A FUCKING JOB, BITCH!"

"THAT DOESN'T SOLVE ANYTHING, ASSHOLE! YOU CAN'T BLAME ALL YOUR PROBLEMS ON BEER!"

"WELL, THEN IT'S YOUR FUCKING FAULT, YOU BITCH!"

"MY FAULT? HOW IS IT MY FAULT WHEN I PICK UP EXTRA SHIFTS WASHING DISHES AT MY JOB AND YOU DON'T DO ANYTHING?"

I slammed the door behind me and there was a pause. Fuck, that means it was going to come down on me. As I started making my way through the living room, my father lurched his way in from the kitchen. He had beer on his breath, and a lot of it. I could smell it the second I walked in the door.

"So, how was dining with the hoity-doity fuckers that are the Broflovskis, eh Ken?" he said, trying to seem cordial as if I had heard none of what was going on.

"Stewart, don't you fucking start with him," I heard my mom growl from the kitchen.

"I'm having a conversation with my son, woman!" he hollered back. Then he faced me again, taking a sip from his can. "How was it having someone to throw money around for you. Did Gerald flash you his checkbook? Did he get hard from being so fucking rich?"

I didn't look at him, instead at my mother in the doorway of the kitchen. "I had a good time," I said, almost to her. "They're nice to me, and they actually like having me around." Then I snapped my eyes back at my father. "More than I can say for you."

My father glowered at me. This made him go red in the face. "What'd you say, you little shit?" he hissed at me.

I gritted my teeth. "I thought you were just drunk, not deaf," I spat at him. "Gerald is a better dad than you ever have been. At least when he drinks, he doesn't abuse his family."

My father lost it at that. It was two split seconds of his fist cocking, and then him punching me right in the gut. I reeled over, but I didn't let myself fall to the floor. I coughed and caught my breath. From a hunched over position, I just glared at him.

"Wanna try that again, you mouthy twat?" he barked at me, reeling to go again.

I straightened up a little bit more. "You're not worth it," I chided. "Neither you nor your life is worth anything. I wouldn't care if you died tomorrow, you pig." I spat at his feet and walked off to my room.

"Yeah, you can say that, you punk!" he shouted after me. "You're a real tough guy, insulting your father. You'll wish that you'd never said that shit to me, Kenny! You'll fucking regret it!"

I ignored his shouts, knowing he'd most likely forget about it by tomorrow morning. It's what always happened. This exchange was almost a nightly occurrence.

I passed Karen's room on the way, which was open. She was on her bed, clutching a tattered stuffed rabbit. She looked as though she was holding back tears. I stopped and I walked in.

"Hey, Karen," I said softly. "I'm sorry you had to hear all of that."

Karen raised her eyes to look at me, and I watched the color drain from her face as she saw me. "He didn't hit you too hard, did he?" she whimpered.

I smirked. "Barely felt a thing," I assured her. I sat down on her bed. "How bad was it before I got home?"

Karen hugged her rabbit tighter. "Pretty bad," she told me. "It started when Mom told him that you had gone to dinner with friends. And then he lost it."

I frowned. "So they were fighting because of me?"

My sister shook her head. "They were fighting because Dad's a jerk," she murmured. "I'm just afraid one of these days, he's actually going to kill one of us. Either on purpose or on accident."

I leaned over and held her close. "Not gonna happen," I said, stroking her hair. "Not to you, at least. You're the most innocent out of all of us. You do a good job of staying out of his way, so I think you're safe."

I could feel her shaking and quivering. I could tell she had started to cry. She buried her face into me. "Please don't let it be you, Kenny," she sobbed. Her tears were staining my shirt, but I didn't really care.

I hugged her close. "It's not gonna be," I reassured her. I'm always going to be here for you. You'll always have your big brother."

That night, I didn't go back to my bed. Instead, I laid with Karen in hers and let her cry herself to sleep in my arms. I didn't have the heart to get up after she fell asleep. I didn't want her to wake up alone.