(Author's note: Warning for domestic abuse. -amy)

The impact of Aaron's fist against the drywall shook the entire apartment, followed by an equally loud crack of thunder. Ruth cringed and clutched at her five-months-pregnant belly, praying please, please, no contractions, not yet.

"Can't Noah come in here, Ma?" Timothy said anxiously. She bit her lip and listened to the muffled words spoken in angry tones, and Noah's terrified responses.

"They're not done talking yet, Meemee."

She had never been in a situation before in which she had to decide whether or not it was worth it to defend her child. She hoped she'd never be in it again. She might not have wanted this baby, but now that she was on the way, Ruth was going to do everything she could to protect it—which, unfortunately, meant staying behind this closed door to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

Another rumble of thunder rolled across the sky outside. Timothy's eyes were enormous. "Noah must have done something really bad."

"He took something. From Uncle Samuel." She flinched again as something broke against the wall. "His silver wristwatch."

The watch had belonged to their father, which didn't mean anything to Aaron, but he'd fixated on the idea that Noah shouldn't be taking things that didn't belong to him. The hypocrisy of the moment was not lost on Ruth, who'd witnessed Aaron stealing more than once.

"Noah's bad, isn't he, Ma."

Timmy's matter-of-fact tone made her want to cry, but she refused to do it in front of her boys. They didn't need to see her looking weak. She shook her head. "He sometimes does bad things, but we all do. That doesn't mean he's bad."

It wasn't easy to say that about Noah and mean it. It wasn't like he had a vicious streak or anything, but he did seem to rejoice in chaos, even if he did quickly switch to remorse. She could hear him crying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," as Aaron's punishment continued. It was striking how similar Noah sounded to his father when he cried. She'd heard those notes of apology from Aaron's own voice more than once, the way he begged for Ruth to forgive him when he realized what he'd done the night before.

"You're nothing but a worthless little shit," Aaron yelled.

Ruth opened her arms and tugged Timothy inside, holding him close. It was an indicator of how bad he was feeling that he didn't object, just hid inside the circle of her arms, huddled against the bulge of her belly.

"The baby is inside there," he said, with interest.

"That's right, Meemee. It's your sister." She tried to keep her tone calm. "She's getting bigger, getting ready to come out and play with you and Noah."

He rested his hands on the rounded surface. Then he looked up at her. The thunder rumbled.

"I think maybe she should stay in there," he whispered.

Squeezing her eyes closed, she kissed his head. Then she put him on the bed, wrapping him in the heavy blanket he preferred.

"I'm going to bring Noah in here now," she said, trying to sound confident. "You stay here. Don't come out, okay? No matter what. Stay inside."

"Okay." That was an easy thing for him to agree to. He watched her from underneath the blanket as she slipped through the door and shut it again.

Aaron took his hands off Noah the moment she appeared. He looked bleary and wrecked, as disappointed in himself as he was in his family.

"That's enough," she said. "It's his birthday, for fuck's sake."

"No wonder he's so weak. You can't even punish him right." He spat the words at her. "Fucking useless."

"Noah, go in the bedroom."

Aaron stepped in Noah's path, blocking his way. When Ruth came forward, he struck her against the cheek with an open hand. She couldn't help but cry out.

"He should see it." His eyes glittered in the dim light of the hallway. "See you get what you deserve."

"The only thing I deserve is for you to get the hell out of this house and leave us alone."

Noah's screams were worse than the blows, which came now in a rain from Aaron's hands, his elbows. She tried to reach around him to grab Noah and pull him into the bedroom, but he wouldn't let her near him. She began to wonder if she should try to get to the phone and call Samuel, but the phone was in the kitchen. She couldn't leave Noah here now.

Eventually they reached the expected conclusion of Aaron stumbling into the other room and passing out on the couch. The storm wasn't letting up. Ruth went into the kitchen and wet a clean towel, pressing it to her face.

"Come on," she urged Noah, unfolding him from where he'd crumpled on the floor of the hallway. "It's bedtime. Stay in my bed tonight. My big birthday boy."

Noah was floppy and uncooperative. She finally managed to get him up and onto his feet.

"I want cake," he whined.

All she wanted to say was I'm sorry, this isn't your fault, you're not a bad boy, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she snapped, "Shut up and go in the bedroom."

Timothy fell asleep shortly thereafter, but Noah sat on the edge of the bed for a long time while the storm raged.

"It's not going to hurt you," she told him, but all he could do was shake his head, and sit there on the edge of the bed, and cry.

The watch never turned up, not even after Aaron tore apart Noah's bedroom looking for it. Samuel said it wasn't a big deal, the next day, when he stopped by to give Noah his birthday present.

"He obviously cared enough about it to stand up to his father," he told her. "Should I punish him more by making him give it back?"

Ruth didn't have a good answer for that. "I just want the matter finished."

"You're going to have to be the one to finish it."

"Oh, so now this is my fault?"

"No, Aaron gets to be an asshole all on his own. But you know he won't stop."

She watched Noah and Timothy sitting on the floor throwing Boggle Jr. cubes at one another, seemingly unaffected by last night's trauma.

"I don't know," she said. "He used to be so much better. And he loves them, Sammy; I know he does. I've seen it. How would it be better for Timmy and Noah and the new one to grow up without a father?"

He gave her a reproving look. "It's not going to be better until you leave him, and you know it."

Ruth rested a hand on her belly. The idea seemed as impossible and remote as the distant thunder. She didn't have a job, or a house of her own. If she left, what would happen to the children? No, she was going to have to stick it out. Whatever was going to happen next, they were going to have to figure it out together.