You finally get to kow what's going on! this chapter is longer and I hope everyone enjoys it!

It was 12 and I'd just gotten home from my 4-12 shift at this diner I worked at on the other side of town. I liked my job, the people there were nice and the people who came in were quite interesting. Old people generally came in the early hours of the morning, so when I worked at those times, I enjoyed sitting down for a few minutes to listen to their stories about the tsunami of 1964 or the avalanches that happened 40 years ago. Around lunch things would pick up and we'd get a few local businesses coming in to eat lunch or have meetings. The evening though, is when all the fun happens. The place has a basement and because of the fact the people who live around the place are so cool, we can provide a stage for people to come and perform! We try and make it as friendly of an environment as possible by not allowing alcohol and drugs in, so even teenagers can come in and enjoy the entertainment without having to worry. So I like working the evening shifts the most, I can serve people their non-alcoholic beverages and enjoy the music.

That night however, was not that great. It had been raining cats and dogs all day, typical Vancouver weather, so it had been slow. The only performers we had were this hair band that wasn't that good and a puppeteer who was actually quite good from a lot of others I had seen.

I had to close up by myself that evening because my co-worker and friend, Janice, had to go catch a plane the next day to go visit her family in Saskatchewan and needed to get a few good hours of rest, so I let her leave at 10. I finished closing at 11 and it was okay, I hummed a song to myself as I washed the floors and counted the money before putting it in the safe and locking up the store for night. I hadn't brought the right gear walking around in the rain; I only had on a baby blue sweater that I'd bought myself a few days ago and this cheesy bright yellow rain hat that was made of rubber. I called the bus using my phone and found that it wasn't going to come for another 45 minutes and decided to walk to the bus stop that was a 15 minute walk away. It would come in 20 minutes so I had the time, and it would drop me off 8 blocks away from my house, so I wouldn't have to bother with a transfer.

I was drenched by the time I got on the bus, my hair was fine though. I sat there, looking out the window, dreaming about what my future would be like. It was always the same, Ian, Mike and my little brother James would all move to Toronto and find a nice little place to live in. We'd live a happy life going to the movies together or walking around the malls and having the time of our lives. Of course, I'd snap back into reality and I knew that that dream was extremely far away and would probably never happen.

I hopped off the bus and a gust of wind suddenly scooped my hat off my head, hurling it down the street. It would be a futile effort to chase after it; so instead, I spent my energy running home so I wouldn't get too wet.

I had gotten home and for the most part, spared my hair from getting drenched. I shook my head and a few little droplets of orange tinted water sprayed onto the walls of the front entrance. I made a mental note to clean that up ASAP! I walked into the living room and flopped down on the couch, I'd been up since 6 A.M and wanted to get to sleep, but I knew I probably had some chores to do before going to dream land. I got up off the couch, kicked my shoes off and walked upstairs to grab some clean clothes before getting to work.

As I walked up to my door, I heard a noise I hadn't heard in a long time; a slight weeping noise was coming from my brother's room. I slowly walked over to his room and brought my ear up to his closed door. Sure enough, the slight whimpers were there, causing my heart to drop to the pit of my stomach. I hadn't heard him cry in such a long time and I hoped with all my heart that it wasn't because of what I thought it was. I slowly opened the door and peaked in. My heart felt like it had stopped completely, my blood ran like ice through my veins. I was not prepared for what I saw. My brother was sitting in the corner in the fetal position, his head snapped up to reveal the damage suffered to his face. Yellow rings started to for around his eyes, suggesting that both his eyes would go black. His top lip was growing fat and the bottom lip was so badly split, you could see his lower teeth a little and his nose was twisted to the right, broken terribly. I ran over to my brother and threw my arms around him. He cried out in pain and I looked down to realize he was cradling his left arm. I was so shocked and pulled him close to me, being aware of his arm as he wept on my shoulder.

I remember the first time I was hit by our father, he was sitting there on the couch and I had been begging him to come to the park with me because I wanted to play with him. He kept telling me that he didn't want to, but I really wanted him to. Eventually, he just snapped. I didn't see it coming, I just felt his had make contact with my face and myself falling to the ground. My father immediately picked me up and held me close, telling me he was extremely sorry for what he had done and we went to the park. I was 12 at that time and didn't understand anything at all. He had been stressed out after mom died when I was 10, we all were. My brother was 5 at the time and could easily pick up on our sad emotions, but didn't know what had happened to cause us to get so sad.

A month after we had the funeral, Dad started to do fun things with us! It always seemed like we were going to the ice cream shop or spending the day mini golfing and go-karting. For about 2 years our life went on like that before it suddenly stopped. My brother had always been quiet and preferred to play alone, so he never bugged our Dad for anything. I on the other hand, loved our Father with all my heart and wanted his approval so bad, so when he stopped approving of me and started smacking me every once in a while, I put the blame on myself. I thought that if I were to become perfect, that he would be happier. Things spiralled down from there over the years; when I was 15 we moved into a small 2 storey, 3 bedroom house when Father stopped being a doctor and started doing odd jobs here and there. I got a job to help support the family so we wouldn't have to move again, I did all the chores and kept my brother and I's marks up so that he would be happy and that maybe, just maybe, life would go back to how it was before.

I didn't notice he was an alcoholic until I was 17. I thought he was always just grieving for his lost wife, and he still was, but the alcohol was what caused him to become violent. He took the worst of it out on me and didn't really bother with my brother because my brother was always so cautious and stayed out of his way. Unlike me, who still vied for positive attention from him after all these years.

I was 19, an adult and still living at home when he started beating my brother, who was 14 at the time, but it was never as violent as tonight. I'm 20 now and even more terrified of the man.

A pounding noise was coming from downstairs and I realized that this wasn't going to turn out well for either of us. The door flew open and I immediately stood up to protect my brother. For an alcoholic, father was fast; he grabbed me by my hair and started dragging me down the hallway before I knew it. I was screaming and kicking, hoping he'd let go, but his grip only tightened. He grabbed the back of my shirt and hurled me down the stairs, my side, back and shoulders slammed against the steps before I got to the bottom. My head cracked against the hardwood floor and my vision went while for a while.

There was suddenly a pain that engulfed me; my body felt like it was being split in two. My whole body resonated with this throbbing pain and I just wanted it to end! The scent of alcohol on his breath wafted up my nose, suffocating me, causing me to gag. I turned my head to the side, crying, too weak to call for help, too weak to fight back.

I don't remember how long it was, but it was finally over. Though what caused the pain was gone, I could still feel it writhing through my body. I lay there, abused and broken.

I remember turning my head to see my brother, standing at the top of the stairs, phone in hand. His mouth was moving but I couldn't hear any noise coming out. He walked down the stairs, picked me up and laid me other the couch. He was a pretty big person for only being 15 and I guess it helped that I was five foot five and one hundred and thirty pounds. He fixed my clothes and did my pants up, before leaning close and whispering into my ear, "It's going to be alright, I called the police so he can't hurt us anymore."

I sat up and looked at him, I looked at the damage our father had done to him and me. Even though he had done this, I still loved my father, but I wanted nothing to do with him.

I wasn't rationally thinking when I sat up, grabbed my shoes and ran out the door. I didn't want to be there and sure as hell didn't want to face any police. As I ran down the street, I could hear the sirens in the distance behind me, but I kept going, not turning around and disappearing into the dark stormy night.