I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't even think. The world had gone into slow motion, like everything was underwater. As I stared down at the limp form of the man I thought of as a father, whose face was bruised and bleeding, I couldn't tell whether the he was breathing or not.

No... please, just be unconscious... you can't be dead, you can't you can't you can't!

I watched, helpless, as he gave a weak cough, his eyelids twitching. I fell down by his side, ignoring the broken glass and plates which threatened to pierce my skin.
I grabbed onto his arm; my eyes were wide and threatened tears, "Brendan! Brendan, it's me, Ste! Wake up, it's okay now! It's over, wake up!" I yelled hysterically, my breathing rapid and uneven.
"St-Steven..." he groaned croakily, his eyes flickering open just slightly.
"That's right, Bren, it's me, Ste. S-someone broke in..."
"No, Steven… not just someone..." he almost laughed, heaving himself up. I kept hold of his arm, he looked like he could collapse again at any moment.
"Shh," I hushed him, brushing debris from his shoulder.

Fifteen minutes later I managed to get him sat down on a dining chair, the only one left standing. I gave him some water in a chipped glass, but the pain was causing him to tremble so bad I had to hold it steady while he took tiny sips.

"Brendan, what happened?" I eventually asked him, kneeling down.
He looked at me for a while, his eyes apparently studying my face. It was a while before he spoke.

He'd driven back to the house after he'd realized he left his wallet, only to find three masked men inside, tearing house apart. Instead of calling the police, he tried to stop them himself. Typical Bren. Only one of the men hit him over the head with something hard and blunt, and that was all he remembered.

When he finished talking I gave a long sigh, standing up to survey the damage. What struck me as odd was that nothing had been stolen, just trashed. Only one thing seemed to be missing...
"Bren... your 64..."
He shook his head, "They didn't steal that..."
"Then where-"
"I sold it."
"What?"
He chuckled, "How do ye think I paid for those?" he asked, gesturing to the table. Three torn up plane tickets lay upon it.
I stared down at them, feeling my heart sinking to my stomach. "... W-we can fix them, r-right? Or get a refund, something... right?"
He chuckled again, though there was no humour in his eyes, "No, Steven... it's too late to get a refund now..."
At that moment all I wanted to do was cry. Just sit down and sob like a pathetic child until the hole in my chest and lump throat went away. Brendan sold one of his most prized possessions to pay for a family trip we'd never get to go on, his home lay in ruins around him, the home he'd raised me in. The man I cared for more then anything else in this world had lost so much in a single day, and that broke my heart the most.
I was still fighting the uncontrollable urge to cry so hard that I didn't notice him stand, cross the room and pull the sofa back up. It was torn, but seemed to be fine. He fell down onto it, calling my name. My body was trembling but I went to him, falling down beside him. I heard him sigh as he slipped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him.

"It's okay, Steven..." he whispered, fingers touching my hair.
My eyes burned as the tears fell. No... This wasn't fair... Brendan shouldn't be the one comforting me! He was the one who'd lost so much, why was I crying and being held? "It's not... it's not okay!" I couldn't hide the tremble in my voice or the lump in my throat.
"You're safe, Steven. That's all that matters to me." His voice was low, for a moment I swear it trembled too, "Yeh safe... for now."
I sniffed and rubbed my eyes, looking up at him, "W-what do you mean?"
He sighed. The hand touching my hair moved down across my cheek, catching a tear that came to rest there. "Steven... there's something I never told ye. I swore I never would, I've left that life behind now, I swear. But... I don't think I can avoid it now."
My heart was beating so quickly I worried I might not have enough oxygen to sustain it, "Bren...?"
"Shortly after ye came to live with me, I... started having a lot of money issues. The club wasn't bringing in as much as it was spending and I was... getting desperate. Cheryl had no idea, she still doesn't. So... I started selling drugs to pay off the dept. I did this for a few years until the big man said he wanted to use me for this heist. It was so much money, Steven... it would pay off all my dept. I was paired up with this guy, this... Walker, but... when we were in there, everything started to go wrong. We'd done everything right, but the police arrived right before we could leave. We were about to escape when Walker fell, yelling that he'd twisted his ankle. I could hear them coming… the police, yelling for us to give ourselves up. So... I ran... and I left him. He screamed after me, swearing he'd get me... but I couldn't stop, couldn't look back. I got away, and the next day he was sent down for five years. He never knew my name, so I thought I was safe. I got his share of the money and everything was fine."
I stared at him; feeling like everything I knew about Brendan was being twisted and rewritten.
He gave another sigh, "This was five years ago, Steven. A man can forget a lot of things in five years, but not this. He's out, Steven. He's coming to kill me."
I felt my head shaking rapidly, my chest felt like my heart was having a seizer, "No... no, no... no... no! We can run, we can! Just move somewhere else, Brendan!"
"Steven..."
"He won't hurt you! He won't, he won't... we have to run!"
"Steven!" he barked, silencing me. "We are not running anywhere. You are going with your Aunt Cheryl. I'm leaving..."
I felt like my world was collapsing, "No, don't say that..."
"It's the only way."
"No, it isn't!"
"I can't let him hurt ye."
"Brendan, please!"
"I said no!" He pushed me away and stood, taking long, deep breaths. I brought up my legs and curls into a shaking ball, sobbing horribly. I couldn't lose Brendan, the man who saved me, the man who fed me when my mother couldn't, the man who gave me a home, a life, a chance. Brendan was the only family I had, and I couldn't bare the idea of sitting alone in Cheryl's apartment, not knowing whether the most important thing in my life was dead or alive.

He ignored all my arguments, all my protests. The few things I had left were bundled into a bag and thrown into the boot of Brendan's car. He almost had to force me, crying and screaming, into the passenger seat.

For the rest of the journey I watched the road in silence, tears drying on my cheeks. I was too tired to keep arguing, and I knew that it wouldn't be worth it. It was impossible to change Brendan's mind when he'd made it up.

He'd made up his mind a long, long time ago.