The day had been abysmal and as it winded down I knew I couldn't be as free as all the other kids. Stretched across the foam sofa in the library with my head resting on my backpack, which I had used as a makeshift pillow; my ears were flooded to the loud thrashing drums contrasting with vocals that sang musically:

"Sometimes I speak, tonight there's nothing to say. Sometimes we freak, and laugh all day."

Thanks to my, oh so –loving– and –generous– father I had to remain for an extra hour to get more involved. Was it not enough that I lettered in three sports and maintained a 4.0 GPA? No? I had to put in a little more effort. What was I to people, a performing monkey ready to dance for the man? Call me a rebel, call me a delinquent but never call me a conformist.

I couldn't wait to escape this god damn town, the idea of starting a life in a city where I could be myself, excited me. The world being my oyster and all that other shit that goes along with freedom. Yeah I know the ideals that I have aren't really small town, hell they aren't even like anyone else I know. I'm not like anyone else I know.

"My cup is full, and I feel okay. The world is dull, but not today."

Deaf to all around me, the chipped ceiling I stared upon practically judged me. With its dank spots and rough edges I couldn't stare any longer and was thankful when Delores the school librarian shook me. De had been a close friend of the family and especially to my late mom; smiling down at me ruefully she straightened her back before nudging her head to indicate that Mr Ashcroft was ready for me.

Removing the cassette player from my clutches I shoved it into my backpack along with the tattered headphones as I trudged down a row of stacks to find Mr Ashcroft and a student, I couldn't for the life of me recall his name. With a furrowed brow I shrugged involuntarily as my hand pushed down into my pocket to retrieve a piece of gum. Let's get this over with.

One goddamn hour passed. One hour I would never be able to get back. Frustrated grunts slipped from my mouth the entire walk home. I say walk, it was more like a reluctant trudge; scuffing the soles of my shoes with each step while the angst riddled voice and musings from Thurston Moore blasted against my ears.

"Everywhere it's six-sex-six by luck. A satellite wish will make it just enough. You'll be making out with a witch in a coffee truck."

I was desperate to drown out the irritation that was Mr Ashcroft. His lack of English was by far excruciating. He couldn't recall the author to Wuthering Heights and he couldn't name any piece of literature we had been reading last year. Why would he know? He's just an idiosyncratic lemming, a sheep following the herd. Desperate for approval from his peers and most likely his father, Ashcroft had probably remained in this small town and suddenly come to realize that he was going no where. I mean how more depressing can it get to work at your old high school? Not even as a teacher or a coach but as the guidance councillor. Before Ashcroft, the guidance counselor was a variety of people at one time or another. Delores for one, even Coach had a crack before passing the torch to Pastor Young's wife Marie. Psh, I could do a better job and I don't care about other people as much as people think I do.

Trailing up the pathway of my house, I spotted Grayson's car in the drive which was unusual. He'd normally be at Beth's house. I couldn't contain the snicker that grated against my teeth as I pried open the door of my house and entered. I bet she chews gum like an animal at the dinner table too.

I unplugged my ears and switched off the cassette player and was shocked to hear the shattering of glass followed by a screaming voice hurling insults at my older brother. I flung my backpack to the floor and strode into the kitchen; Grayson was cleaning up shards of glass with a flannel dish towel while our father stood seething with a bottle of scotch in his grasp.

"What the hell is going in here?"

I instinctively grabbed a hold of Grays' shoulder to tug him toward me. I didn't know what to expect. Once in a blue moon things with our father would get really intense. A man of faith and principle has his limits too and with barely raising two sons alone, the bottle became his companion and his fists his own righteous delivery. One of the reasons Gray and I both joined sports teams were to have an excuse if we sported a black eye or a split lip to school. Rough housing, sports practice, whatever we could say to stop the questions, to nip the rumours in the bud.

My appearance only infuriated the old bastard and he stumbled to his feet, the stench of bourbon on his breath carried across the kitchen. It was enough to make anyone throw up. The pathetic excuse for a man could barely stand for more than a second before his knees buckled and he dropped back into his seat. Slurring insults in our vicinity.

I was furious but managed to let the insults ride off my back. I was used to it but Gray didn't need to hear. If only he had gone to Miranda's this could have been avoided.

"…you waste of space. If your mother could see you now she'd be disgraced. -"

Grayson was on his knees, pinching at the shards of glass until the last few slivers were cleaned away when our fathers' abuse hit us, I remained tight lipped but the stream of remarks flooded my mind. If my mother could see YOU now, then yeah she'd be disgraced you dictator.

If I spoke up now it would only make matters worse.

"- You only had to do one thing. One thing and you couldn't even manage that. I got a call from your school this afternoon boy."

I shot a look in the bastards' direction; he could barely focus on me that was how drunk he was. With his mouth slack and his limbs heavy and loose, his eyes stared blankly at the edge of the fridge while I was steps away.

The minute he started on Grayson was it for me. I couldn't keep my mouth shut any longer. This pig deserved nothing from us. No more respect. No help in hiding his true nature.

"…Where's that slut you call a girlfriend, Grayson? Why is she with you anyway? You aren't anything. You're nothing but MY son, my only boy. The only one who knows how to follow orders? Obedient unlike that runt you call a brother."

Suddenly, I couldn't think. I couldn't remember. I couldn't piece together anything. It seemed as though the hours had been wiped from my mind. I didn't even know how I managed to get to the bonfire.

I had been resting against a log beside the roaring fire; examining the iridescent flames I became spellbound, I imagined the fires swallowing up my form entirely, swirling around me with heat, warming the blood that flowed through my veins, to a boiling temperature. My concentration was drawn back to the earth, blinking my vision clear to sight only to realize where it was that I sat. The clearing of my vision was painful, the tightening constricting flesh that shielded my orbs was heavy and I couldn't for the life of me widen my gaze. I winced in discomfort. My eye was puffy and constricted. My lip was torn; I could taste blood on my tongue. It was metallic and rough. What the fuck?

I hadn't changed my clothes or eaten anything. My stomach rumbled which was a giveaway and as I looked down at my hands I was faced with a sight that sparked confusion. My fists were inflamed around the knuckles and I scowled trying desperately to remember. The frown hurt, which was strange; I was no novice when it came to grimacing. What the hell had happened back at the house?