Author's Note: This chapter includes descriptions of child abuse. This was a hard chapter for me to write; but like I previously have said; this story is a cathartic exercise following some of my own childhood experiences.

Greg glanced over to watch his father and uncle Henry sitting at the dinner table with him and felt his heart began to race. Mom? Mom, when are you coming home? Please come home mom. I'm sorry that daddy hit you this morning before school. I promise that next time; I'll take the hit. Just please, come home. Greg loved God, but his father hated the idea of a God, so he didn't dare place his hands in any kind of prayer pose; lest face the consequences before mommy came home. He listened out with a keen ear for any cars approaching and slowing to a stop on their busy dog legged street; but while all the cars slowed, giving Greg a second of hope that mommy might be coming back- none of them stopped; he just heard the engines rev as they went around the turn.

"Greg, hey Greggy boy," his daddy called to him, slurring his words, "fucking useless, stupid failure of child he is," he snarled when his calls went unanswered as Greg continued to stare out the window from his chair. "Gregory!" he slammed his open palm on the table and Greg jumped and flinched; he knew where this night was going, mommy, why didn't you take me with you to grandma and grandpa's? I'm so sorry that I wet the bed yesterday. It won't happen again, I promise. Please come and get me, I'm scared. Mommy, why don't you care?

A sharp smack directly across his face brought Greg out from his distracted stupor; "the bloody hell did I do to deserve a cowardly child like you? Goddamn, curse God, curse you, and curse your stupid fucking mother that made you. Curse me for not pulling out and shooting you into a damn sock!" as raucous laughter erupted from the two men. Greg plugged his ears with his index fingers; wrong choice; "hey, retard! Don't do that! People will laugh at you! People will laugh at me!" his father grabbed his arm and yanked it roughly away from his ears. "The hell you got to be sad about, boy? You don't have no goddamn idea how great you've got it! Of course, Blythe buys into all that nonsense that he is 'just being a normal kid; he's just a little skittish! Boy, all you need to do is just learn how to goddamn listen!" John roared.

Greg flinched again, which was responded to by a hard backhand across the face, followed by John and Henry's laughter around the table. I can't cry. Daddy doesn't like me to cry… was all he thought as John threw a beer can at his son.

"Drink it, boy!" he yelled.

"I don't want to, daddy, I'm not thirsty," Greg whispered.

"What? Talk up boy! Here, you pathetic waste of oxygen," John leant forward and opened the can, not before smacking the base of it on Greg's head for a laugh.

Greg slowly sipped the beer; it was bitter and too cold; it hurt his teeth and made his tummy feel bad; "you better finish that, boy," and then came the words that terrified him as he knew what they meant; "you're going to pay for your mother leaving me while I'm at work, keeping the goddamn lights on and food on the table!"

Mommy, please, please come home. Please God, I don't want daddy angry again, please bring mommy home and I'll never, ever do anything bad again.

After Greg had choked down the last of the beer, John smiled at Henry; "wanna see how tough my son is?"

With that, the two House men stood up from the table, holding themselves steady for a second on the edge of the table; "come on Greggy, your daddy has something he wants you to show us,"

They led Greg outside and tied him upside down from a tree; "have a whack," John invited his brother, "like a boxing bag," so that's what they did. Anytime that Greg cried or even winced or flinched from the pain; the next hits became harder. So, he hung there, upside down, with his eyes closed and his long arms wrapped around his body. I am a bat. I'm like a bat. Maybe one day I'll be Batman… every hit, imagining himself as becoming Batman, or any superhero- this was simply his training. No superhero becomes one after all without a bit of pain after all.

Not long after, with a sneer, John untied his son, his only child, from his ankles and watched as he crumpled onto the grass. Henry bent down to whisper in Greg's ear with an evil smirk, "now you're going to grow up to be a big, strong man,"

With a hesitant, scared swallow but ensuring that he kept his composure tough and unemotional, Greg followed his uncle and father inside. Henry collapsed, exhausted onto the couch; and John left the room muttering about being too tired to deal with anymore of this shit tonight, so with a grumble after John staggered, drunk, off to bed. As soon as John was snoring away in the next room; which only took a moment; Henry patted the seat next to him and Greg hesitantly and reluctantly clambered up next to him.

Uncle Henry wrapped his arm around little Greg's tight, tense, terrified body as he slurred, "don't listen to your dad, Greg, you're a good kid. You know that?" his breath stank of beer and cheap cigarettes that made Greg's stomach churn. "You're getting to be a big boy now, aren't you? How old are you now?"

"I'm four, sir," came the quiet response.

"Yes, you're getting to be all grown up now. You know what grown ups do, Greggy?" Henry slurred back; beginning to rub gently through his shorts on his crotch.

"No, sir," Greg replied, eyes downcast and looking away.

"You know Greggy, if I were to tell your father that you weren't looking me in the eye when I was speaking to you; you know how mad he'd be?" Henry reminded him with a slight smile. Greg gasped and looked up, wide eyed, unable to speak dad would be so, so mad if he knew that I disrespected Uncle Henry.

"How about I make you a little deal, Greggy boy," Henry's voice dropped to a whisper, "you help your Uncle Henry, and I won't tell your dad about your disrespect. Just because I like you, and I don't want you to get hurt,"

"Umm, okay… what can I do to help you sir?" Greg mumbled politely, and a wicked smile crossed Henry's face.

He pulled out his penis and began to gently tug and pull on it; "why don't you give this a go, Greggy? Its okay, I'm a grown up," while he watched as Greg's little hand set to work, copying his actions, on helping him become hard, "do you like doing this and making your uncle Henry happy, Greg?" he murmured, "okay, you can stop this now, Greggy. Take all your clothes off," and Greg robotically did as he was told. Uncle Henry was a grown up, after all, and stood there as he silently watched his uncle eye his naked nephew repeatedly up and down; the tall, skinny, lanky boy with the curly brown hair and big, watching blue eyes, while continuing to masturbate his rapidly hardening penis.

"Sit down on my lap, Greg, and don't cry if it hurts. If you do, then I will make you hurt much more. This is where you need to hold up your end of the deal for being disrespectful to me," Henry stated as he eyed the boy climbing upon his lap as he felt his penis twitch with excitement.

Within moments, the searing, tearing pain inside his backside forced a whimper out of Greg, so his uncle thrust harder and deeper inside the boy, clearly purely to only cause more pain to his nephew. After he'd reached completion, he pushed little Greg off his lap who collapsed into a pile on the floor. He gathered up his clothes and redressed. His uncle was now relaxed, leaning back and lighting up a cigarette; "don't you tell anyone about this, ever, Gregory. If you do, I swear to God, I will kill you and your useless mother!" Henry hissed, "so, you promise that this will be our little secret?"

"I feel nothing, sir," Greg mumbled, nodding silently and limped off to the bathroom to find a few spots of blood in his underwear. Panicked, he packed his underwear full of toilet paper to hide any more blood and went off to bed. Please come home, mommy. Please. Please, God, bring her home tonight, mommy, why don't you love me? … as silent tears tracked down his cheeks.

Blythe didn't come home that night.