Hey guys! Sorry for keeping you in suspense with that last chapter. I hope this makes up for it! Please review if you liked it, have any advice, or any constructive criticism. And by the way, if you don't like the story, don't read it, and please don't leave hateful reviews. Not to me or to anyone! IIt's great to tell people what they could improve on, it really helps, but telling someone that they are a rubbish writer and have no talent isn't going to help, if anything, it'll knock their confidence, and you'd have to be pretty sick to think that doing something like that is good, in any way.

Thanks for reading, guys, I hope you enjoy the chapter, I definitely enjoyed writing it!

Chapter Twelve

"When I was five, my older brother, Zac Matthew Cooper, started hanging out with some guys. They were from a rough neighbourhood, and they weren't the best company to keep. But he hung out with them anyway."

"Wait! You have a brother?"

"Sonny, please, let me explain. So, he brought them to the house once, when mom and dad were out, and they called all of their mates and it turned out to be a full-on party. When I asked him if he knew anyone there, he said no, only his mates, but they all knew everyone, so it was fine."

"And you just believed him?"

"Sonny, I was five. Of course I believed him."

"Oh, sorry."

"Anyway, that night, after everyone left, he was drunk, and went to bed. So I was left to clean up the mess. I looked up to my older brother, and I didn't want him to get into trouble. So I did the best I could, and then, when he got up in the morning, he finished it off."

"So, wait, you were five, and he left you to clean up the entire house? How terrible!"

"Well, like I said, I did the best I could, but there was a lot left that he had to do. But still, he thanked me, and said I was the best little brother in the world, and I loved it. He never really paid me much attention, and suddenly he was praising me, complimenting me. What little boy wouldn't love that? So, I kept doing it. And by the time I was ten, I was sick of it. But by that time, he had changed. He had, at some point, decided that it was my responsibility to clean up his mess."

"So, what, he made you keep doing it?"

"Yeah, and he was making me do more stuff too. He made me cover for him with mom and dad when he went out, and when he got into drugs, he made me hide them in his room, 'cause he didn't want to be caught with them. Then, once, when I was thirteen, I left the house during one of his parties. I went to my mate's house, and didn't go home until late that afternoon. Of course, he didn't know I had left, so he expected to wake up in the morning to a clean house, and happy parents."

"But he didn't, right?"

"Right. When I got home, mom and dad were in the kitchen, talking, and he was wandering around the house, shoving rubbish into garbage bags. When I walked in, he glared at me, then told me to follow him into his bedroom. That was the first time he ever beat me up. But it certainly wasn't the last."

"He beat you up? How could he?"

"Quite easily. I was a really weedy kid, no muscles at all. Anyway, for the next two years, things were bad. And they only got worse. It progressed from covering for him with my parents, to covering for him with the cops. And then, when they found drugs in his locker in school, he made me go out and bury his stash in the woods outside my house. And every time I did something wrong, or tried to refuse, he would beat me up. Mom and dad thought I was the delinquent, getting into fights at school. If only they knew."

"So you never told them? Why not?"

"Because, Zac was their angel. They never would have believed me. Anyway, after the third or fourth time he beat me up, I decided I didn't want to be helpless anymore. So I started going to the gym, and boxing whatever I could find that would help me. I could afford it, with my allowance. I think I even tried karate, but I was crap at it. Anyway, I didn't want him to realise, so I started wearing baggier clothes to hide my muscles. Can you believe, he actually started calling me fatty, telling me to lose weight."

"So, did you never fight back? Even with all those self-defence lessons?"

"Well, I didn't want to fight back until I knew I was strong enough to beat him, and I knew that if he found out I was training, he'd stop me. So I didn't. Then, when I was fifteen, he was twenty three. He still lived at home, but my parents thought he was going to university. Idiots. Anyway, I was changing for school one day, and he walked in, and saw me shirtless. One look at my stomach, and arms, and he knew. He went bright red, and ran at me. But I was prepared this time. I dodged his first swing, then hit him square in the jaw. He staggered back, and I expected him to recover fast and come at me again. So I followed up with a shove to the chest. Only, he was wasted. So he went flying backwards and hit his head on the side table."

"Oh my God. Was he okay?"

"No. He hit it really hard. Mom and dad heard the bang, and came running up. They yelled at me to call an ambulance, and I did. He was in a coma for about three months before they turned off the life support."

"Oh my God. He died?"

"Yeah. I killed him."

"No! Well, sort of, but it was self-defence!"

"Yeah, that's what the lawyer said. But my parents never believed me. He also refused to believe that he was drunk, no matter how many times the doctor told them. The coroner told them that he had been drinking heavily for roughly ten years, and doing drugs for at least five. He had also been smoking, on and off, for eight years. But they still refused to believe that he was the bad one. They still, to this day, refuse to talk to me. You know, in the court case, they testified against me. They wanted me to go to prison."

"Well, then, your parents were, or are, terrible parents, and you deserve so much better."

"But, the thing is, I don't. I killed my brother Sonny. I KILLED HIM!"

"No, Chad, you saved yourself. And you didn't mean to."

"Really, Sonny, really. Are you sure I didn't mean it?"

"Yes, Chad. I'm sure."

"Well, I'm not."

"What? Listen Chad, when you hit your brother, did you, even for a second, imagine killing him, or seeing him die, or anything like that?"

"No, but-"

"No buts, Chad. You didn't mean to kill him. And if he hadn't been drunk, or if he hadn't been a psyco who beat up his little brother, he wouldn't be dead. Chad, he brought it on himself. And anyway, he most likely would have died, or ended up in prison, anyway. It's not your fault, Chad."

"So you don't hate me?"

"Hate you? Why would I hate you? Chad, I love you. And the fact that you had a crappy childhood, and terrible parents, and an evil brother, doesn't affect that. I will never stop loving you, Chad. I promise."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Thanks Sonny. Oh, and by the way, I love you too. I'll never stop loving you either. I promise."

"Thanks for telling me, Chad. It means a lot to know that you trust me."

"It's fine. Shouldn't we be getting back to cleaning the couch now?"

"Oh yeah. Shit! It's nearly midnight! Do you need to get home? Wait, who do you live with? Don't you live with your mom? Annabeth said something about your mom."

"Oh, no, I live with my aunt. The whole family knows about everything, and we just tell everyone who doesn't know that my aunt is my mom. I actually call her mom now. She's always believed me, and she's always there for me. But she's not expecting me home. I spend a lot of nights at the studios, so she's used to me not turning up. She doesn't mind, as long as I text her or call her in the morning."

"Okay, then. So, let's do this quickly, 'because I'm tired."

"So am I. Look, I know it's a lot to ask, but could I stay on the couch tonight? I'm too tired to drive, and there aren't any buses or trains to where I live."

"Sure, but you don't need to sleep on the couch."

"Erm, Sonny…"

"Oh, no! I meant, we have a guest room. You can stay in the guest room. I didn't mean my room. I mean, not that I wouldn't like that, I'm just…"

"Sonny? It's fine. Forget about it. If that's okay, I'll sleep in the guest room then?"

"Yeah. That's great. Now c'mon, help me turn this cushion. It's heavier than it looks."