Tim felt it as soon as he walked through the door. That tingling sensation in the back of his neck. A sign that his dad was most likely either drunk off his ass or pissed off because of some minor inconvenience, and that meant being careful if he wanted a quiet evening with no drama. Real careful. No coughing at the wrong time. No talking about school and that damned math test. And absolutely no mouthing off. That last one always posed a problem for Tim. But damn it, he had to keep the smartass comments in check tonight.

His eyes immediately scanned the room when he entered the house. Nothing seemed out of place, but the bottle of whiskey was visible on the coffee table in the living room, and Tim bit his lip. Not good. He looked at his watch, wondering if he could slip out unnoticed and spend another hour with David and Mike before sneaking in the back door. But he had promised his mom that he would be home on time today. She had book club with a handful of her friends, and he had to take care of Genny and get her to bed on time.
"Timothy, is that you?"
Well, now it was too late anyway. Tim dropped his backpack and jacket on the floor next to the door and sighed to himself.
"Yea, hi mom," he answered and went to the kitchen.
She was stirring a pot with one hand and had the phone pressed to her ear with the other, the cord wrapping around her upper body, and sent him a quick smile before pointing at the spice rack.
"Grab the oregano for me, please," she ordered, and Tim handed her the small container.
"Mmhmm," his mother confirmed on the phone and rolled her eyes a little, "but Rose, you see, I'm sure that was just a misunderstanding. I-"
"Susan," a frustrated voice yelled from the small office further down the hall, and Tim felt a small knot starting to form deep in his gut. His dad was clearly already in a bad mood.
"Susan, I need to get on the internet so get off the damn line, please."
Tim put the oregano back on the shelf when his mother handed it to him and then went into the living room. He could hear his mother finishing up the conversation in the kitchen and sent his sister a quick glance as he crossed the room. Genny was glued to the TV, watching Are You Afraid of the Dark, and the 10-year-old only acknowledged her brother for a few seconds before the kid show grabbed her attention again.

Tim plopped down on his bed with a sigh and grabbed his Game Boy off the nightstand. He wished that his mother didn't have to leave after dinner; it was always worst on the nights that she wasn't home. The handheld device made a pling-sound when it turned on, and Tim took a calming breath. Maybe everything would be fine.
Donkey Kong did a mediocre job, only keeping Tim's jittering nerves slightly under control, and when his mom yelled out "dinner" he didn't feel even a little bit hungry.
"Tim!", his mother yelled again and the teen quickly threw the console on the comforter and opened his door.
"Comin'" he answered and hurried to the dining room.

"So how was school?" Susan asked and looked at both her children.
Tim immediately stuffed his mouth with more spaghetti and instead gestured towards Genny.
"Didn't we teach you proper manners in this house, boy?" Tom barked and furrowed his brow at Tim's puffed up cheeks.
"Sorry," Tim croaked and made a face when he had to swallow the unchewed food to be able to answer.
"Your mother asked you a question, and I expect you to answer."
"It's fine, Tom," Susan intervened and placed a calming hand on her husband's forearm.
"Genny, how was your day, honey?"
The girl happily started talking, giving Tim the opportunity to think for a few minutes as he waited for the question to be asked again. He would have to talk about anything but that result.
"And how did it go today, Tim?" Susan asked when Genny had nothing more to tell.
Tim's pulse immediately quickened.
"Uh, what?" he replied, unable to tune out his father scowling at him from his chair.
"Wasn't it today you had that math test?"
He had hoped that his mom wouldn't remember. Or at least that she just wouldn't ask about it. Now there was no way around it.
"Oh, uh… Yeah, it was today. But mom, they gave us an admission slip that you guys need to sign because we're supposed to go on a field trip."
"Okay honey, why don't you go get it now so we don't forget."
Tim pushed his chair back, slightly optimistic that he had diverted the attention, and went out to get the slip from his bag.
"So where are you going?" he heard his mom ask.
"It was one of the museums, but I can't remember which one," he answered and grabbed the small slip of paper.
"It might be the history museum," Susan said, "at least I went there when I was a freshman back in the day. When are you going?"
"In two weeks, I think," Tim said when he entered the dining room again.
"Go get that math test as well," his dad demanded and sent his son a suspicious look.
Tim closed his eyes for a second. Shit! Then he went back to his backpack and got the test. The grade in the top right corner was mocking him, and the teen swallowed hard.

As soon as he got near the table, his dad pulled the test from his hands and looked at the red ink. Tim quickly sat down and kept his gaze on his nearly empty plate.
"What the hell is this?" Tom asked, his voice treacherously low and calm.
Susan peeked at the paper and then sent her son a disappointed look.
"I… it was just a hard test," Tim began and felt the knot grow in his stomach.
As a man who was good with numbers, Tom had some expectations of his children, especially when it came to math. And a C was nowhere near good enough.
"Just a hard test," Tom mimicked and sent Tim an icy glare.
Then he got up from his chair, walked the few steps to his son, and smacked the test down on the table in front of him. Both Genny and Tim flinched slightly.
"This is not a hard test, Tim. This is something you're supposed to know, damn it!"
Tom placed a heavy hand on Tim's shoulder and gesticulated towards the paper with the other.
"Did you even study for the test, Tim?" his mother interjected, her voice stern, but Tim didn't have time to answer before his dad brought his attention back to the piece of paper.
"This one, why didn't you get that one?"
Tim didn't know what to say.
"Or this one here?"
His dad's voice was growing louder and his nails dug slightly into his skin.
"Ah, I just…I didn't…"
"You didn't what?"
The words wouldn't come.
"You did not what, Timothy?" Tom half-yelled and slapped him in the back of the head as if to see if that would make the boy talk.
Tim huffed loudly and Genny looked from her mom to her dad obviously sensing the tense atmosphere.
"When you have a test, I expect you to study. Do you understand me?"
Tim nodded, but didn't say anything.
"I said, do you understand me!"
"Yessir," Tim said meekly, the knot in his stomach growing from both fear and anger.
Susan cleared her throat and started getting up.
"Okay," she said, "I think everyone is done. Tim, please help me with the dishes."
As the teen collected the plates, his dad pointed a finger at him.
"We'll have a discussion about this later, mark my words."
Tim bit the inside of his cheek and went to the kitchen without acknowledging his father's words. He knew exactly what kind of discussion he was referencing. And they rarely contained a lot of talking.

Tim looked at his mother. She was standing with her back to him, and it was obvious that she was rinsing off the plates a little more aggressively than usual, and Tim swallowed his spit. Then he opened the dishwasher and started piling in the plates and glasses.
"Mom, I'm-"
"I don't wanna hear it, Tim. A C! Really?"
She turned to look at him, hands on her hips, and his heart dropped.
"Sorry…"
"Why do you have to give him a reason like this, Tim, hmm? Did you even study for that test?"
It might be his dad leaving the most painful marks, but his mother could deliver a tongue lashing that would always make him feel ashamed and writhing on the spot. It wasn't even her words, but her tone and the way she looked at him.
"Mom, please, I said I was sorry."
"And I asked you if you studied. I want an honest answer, young man."
She pointed the sauce-covered wooden spoon at him, and Tim blew at a strand of blond hair that was falling into his eyes.
"Yeah…"
His answer came out sounding more like a question than an affirmation, and Tim sighed when he saw the look in his mother's eyes. He had actually studied. Or he had started at least, but then his thoughts had decided to take him on a little trip that involved him and C. J. Parker from Baywatch and that had been the end of that.
"Tim!"
Her tone of voice was stern and disappointed and Tim eyed his feet.
"I know. I'll do better next time, I promise."
"You better. And Tim, don't make it worse for yourself, okay."
He nodded, knowing full well what his mother was talking about. It was a plea to make him hold back the sarcasm and the snide remarks after she left for book club.

Tim lifted the covers and looked at his sister who was standing in the doorway.
"Time for bed, Genny," he said, and the little girl jumped onto the mattress.
He handed her the small teddy that had fallen to the floor and then turned off the light.
"Sleep tight, okay. And stay in here. No matter what."
"Goodnight, Tim," she said and hid a yawn. "Why is dad so mad at you?"
Tim sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed.
"You don't have to worry about that, okay. I just screwed up and he's pissed, that's all."
"He sounded really angry at dinner…"
Genny sounded scared, and Tim felt his insides roar. What kind of way of raising your kids was this! Scaring them into submission. He balled up his fist and wanted nothing more than to plant it in the middle of his father's stupid face.
"Yeah, he was," he said instead. "Dad's really good at math and he wants me to be as well. But I'm not and he has a hard time wrapping his head around that."
"TIM! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE, BOY!"
Tom's voice boomed down the hall, making both kids flinch.
"Do you think he'll be mad at me like that, if I fail a test some day?"
Tim's heart broke a little, hearing the fear in his sister's voice.
"I don't know. But I'll protect you if he is."
Genny looked up.
"Promise?"
Tim nodded.
"Promise. Now go to sleep, okay."

Tim walked warily into the living room and immediately spotted the bottle of whiskey on the table. His heart pounded in his chest and even though he knew what was coming, he still jumped when his father was suddenly standing next to him.
Tom grabbed him by the collar and pulled him towards the dinner table before letting go of him again. The test was still lying there, the red ink on display, and Tim swallowed hard.
"You really think this is okay, boy?" Tom spat, his breath heavy with alcohol.
Tim didn't say anything, but felt every nerve ending in his body going into high alert. Then a stinging smack caught him in the back of the head, making him stumble forward.
"Ow," he exclaimed and rubbed at the spot. "Dad, please-"
"Cut the crap, Tim," his dad interjected and raised a hand. "I've had enough of this shit."
"It was just one test," Tim tried and took a step back when his dad squinted his eyes at him.
Apparently, he had sounded more snarky than he had intended.
"One test! This was your third test with a bad grade. For Christ's sake, boy, you're 14 years old and in high school now. When the hell are you gonna learn to take responsibility for your actions?"
There were so many things that Tim would love to hurl back in his father's face. When are you going to take responsibility for your children? For your work? When are you going to stop drinking and get your life back on track? When are you going to stop banging Mrs. Ochoa and be faithful to mom?
But he didn't say anything. Instead, he lifted his hands placatingly and took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry, dad, okay. Really. I'm sorry."
Tom grabbed the glass of whiskey from the coffee table and emptied it in one swig. Then he pointed at Tim.
"Yea, you're gonna be at least!"
In one fluid motion he pulled his belt through the loops and then folded it in half. Tim backed up another few steps, his insides in turmoil.
"D-dad, come on," he stuttered and cleared his throat. "You really think this'll make me better at math?"
Tom huffed, a dangerous gleam shining in his eyes.
"Was that lip I heard?!"
Tim shook his head as his father advanced on him.
"I…no…but-"
"SHUT UP!"
Tom grabbed his son harshly by the arm and propelled him towards the dining table. Tim winced when he collided with the hard piece of furniture and then held his breath when his dad clamped a hand around the back of his neck, forcing him to bend over.
"And no," the man growled menacingly. "I don't think you'll get better at math. But I think it can teach you a much deserved lesson, boy!"
Then he raised his arm and Tim closed his eyes. He heard the whistle of the belt a second before he registered the pain. The strip of leather had hit him low, all the way down on the back of his thigh, and Tim grunted.

From there it was a regular onslaught, and Tom worked himself into a fit. The belt caught Tim again and again, covering everything from the back of his knees up to his tailbone in throbbing welts.
"ARH, OW!" he cried when a particularly whippy smack caught him where legs met butt.
He felt a few tears spill over and cursed himself for not being able to keep from crying.
"Da-arh, stop!" he groaned when Tom hit him again.
"I say when this is over, mister, not you!"
Tim sucked in a breath and tensed when he sensed his father drawing back his arm even further than before.
"OW! OW! ARHAOW! STOP!" he howled at the top of his lungs when the next lashes fell in quick succession.
He danced from foot to foot trying to avoid the belt, but then he heard a door open and completely froze in place. He had told her to not leave her room! Tim felt panic spread inside and he fought to get up, only succeeding in getting his dad to grab a handful of his hair and push his cheek roughly down the table.
"Dad, stop!" a small voice begged.
Tom stopped in his tracks and Tim blew out a shallow breath before pushing himself off the table. They both turned and looked at the little girl who was staring at them, and Tim felt his heart pound in his chest. Partially because of the exhaustion from the beating, partially from fear of what would happen next. Genny's hair was messy and she was clutching the little teddy in her arms.
"Don't hurt Tim, dad!"
Tom growled in a low voice and took a step towards his daughter.
"Go to your room, Gennifer. NOW!"
But she didn't move. He pointed sternly at her, the belt swinging a little in his hand, and Genny recoiled slightly when Tom took a few more steps towards her.
"Do I need to spank you too, missy!"
Her eyes widened and she immediately shook her head.
"NO!" Tim croaked and grabbed his dad by the shoulder as he stepped up to him.
The movement was fast enough to knock the belt out of his father's hand, and Tim held on to his dad's arm to stop him from going towards his sister.
"Don't touch her! Genny, go back to bed. Now. Please!"
The girl sent him one last look, her eyes shining with tears, but then she quickly turned around and hurried back inside her room.

Tom turned towards his son and squinted. He pointed a finger at him and stepped closer.
"You don't ever tell me what to do or not do. Are we clear?"
When Tim didn't answer fast enough Tom let his hand fly. The slap echoed around the room and caught Tim by surprise, making him take a small step to the side. He rubbed his cheek and swallowed hard.
"I said. Are. We. Clear!"
The look in his father's eyes was downright scary, and before Tim got a chance to answer the man, Tom grabbed him by the front of his shirt and spun him to the side. His hand felt hard as steel on his abused skin, even through the fabric of his pants, and Tim hissed when the hand caught its mark a handful of times.
"We're clear, we're clear!" he exclaimed and pulled back as soon as his father let go of him.
"Good," Tom said with finality. "No more Cs. Period!"
His eyes turned to slits when he saw the anger on his son's face and in one long step he reached Tim and pushed him backwards, making him stumble down and land harshly on his behind. Tim launched himself off the floor, tears once again spilling down his cheeks from the pain, and he stepped to the side, letting his father pass him.
"I hope that hurt, boy! Now go to bed."

Tim carefully peeled off his pants, trying his best not to make them touch his skin. He felt completely raw and craned his neck to take a look at the damages. As far as he could tell, Tom had really done a number on him. Everything he was able to see looked red and welted, some places almost purple already, and Tim sighed. Sitting on the school chairs wouldn't be so great for the rest of the week.
The teen crawled onto his bed, stomach first, and winced as he laid all the way down. Everything hurt and he took a few deep breaths. At least he had stopped his dad from hurting Genny, but Tim hoped that he would have the courage to stand up to the man at some point. Maybe one day, he thought to himself before slowly drifting off to sleep. One day…