The Boy with the Whiplash Tattoo

Twenty two

"Uncle, sit down," I said, placing a hand on his arm to placate him. He shrugged me off and shoved me behind him, sending me sprawling to the floor.
Aaron glared at him, and slowly rose from his seat.
Uncle pulled his belt out from his trouser hoops and leered.
"Remember this?" He growled.
He raised it and struck Aaron, who lifted his hands up to protect his head. For an instant he was a boy again, his eyes wide with fear and his entire body quivering.
Then his brows formed an angry slash above his smouldering eyes and his muscles tensed and he grabbed the end of the belt and pulled.
In his surprise his uncle let go, and Aaron rained down blows upon him with the belt, and there was a small smile on his lips as if to say 'See? See how you like it.'
I didn't like seeing this, but I couldn't seem to look away. I curled up smaller on the floor, trying to make myself disappear.
"Please," I whispered, but it's like Aaron could no longer hear me. He'd become deaf and blind with rage.
I uncurl and look around for some way to put an end to this.
On the stove top rested our giant wok. I grabbed the handle and swing it with all my might at Ben's head.
His face and body snapped away from me and he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Aaron stared at me in shock, and then we both laughed. Shaky, frightened laughs fueled by adrenaline and terror.
I took uncle's feet and he hooked his hands under his arms and we dragged him to the front door, dumped him outside and locked it behind us.

At midnight we heard him banging on the front door, but we ignored it. Aaron had my pyjama top pulled up so he could kiss the bruises better.
"Thank you for defending me today," he whispered. "My wife."
Uncle was banging on the window now, and bellowing something unintelligible, but I simply wrapped my arms tight around Aaron's neck, blocking the sounds with my body. I just wanted to protect him.