"You're so stupid, boy." The alcohol on my father's breath snaked it's way into my face. Still, I didn't flinch, didn't move a muscle. I was not afraid of him anymore. I couldn't be. "How are you ever going to make it if all you do is play on that damned guitar? You aren't any good, either. Useless. Why couldn't you be like your brother?" He growled. "Answer me, Jordan Allen."
"I don't know." I answered quietly, my confidence that I had worked so hard to gain left me. He roughly slammed me to the floor, kicking and hitting as I went down. I curled my tall frame into a ball, afraid to move.
"When I ask you a question, you will address me as sir!" He kicked me, over and over. I looked for my brother, begging, pleading for help. He was going to kill me if it was the last thing he did. Instead of helping, my brother stood frozen in the doorway, watching our old man beating me to a pulp. I didn't know what I expected. Dillon was always the star in my dad's eyes. Dillon could do no wrong. It's not that he couldn't stop dad, but he wouldn't. I cringed as another steel toed boot drove into my stomach. After thirty or so minutes, the old man finally fulfilled our daily ritual, and receded back to the living room to have another beer, and praise Dillon for making varsity on the football team. I laid on the cold floor, my stomach convulsing from the pain. Dillon shot me a sideways glance. That was my cue. He was distracted. I quietly got up and tip toed upstairs to my room, where my carpet would be the only one to tell of the painful beating I just got. I crawled into my room and laid on the floor, blood trickling out of my mouth and nose and into the carpet, staining it. It was my fault. I deserved this. I was the reason mom left, right? I was the reason he drank so much. I deserved it. A tear fell and mixed with the blood. What would she say if she saw me now? Would she defend me? I would never know; I pushed her away. I let the thoughts consume my head until I blacked out.
TAY'S POV
"Thank you! Come again!" I smiled warmly as the customer left with a friendly wave. It was nearing nine, which meant closing time! I smiled at Emily, the girl I was training. "So, what do you think. Do you like it?" I asked, trying to start general conversation.
She nodded. "Yeah, I think I'm getting the hang of things a lot faster than I would have imagined." I nodded in response. "I like it here."
"Good!" I smiled warmly.
"Tay?" I turned to face her, broom in hand.
"Hmm?"
"I know we just met, but do you think I could confide in you?"
"Sure!" I made us a couple of coffees, and sat down in one of the booths, gesturing for her to do the same.
"So, you know how my family just moved here?" I nodded, taking a sip of my coffee. She looked really nervous. "I have two brothers, they go to our school..."
"Yeah, Dillon and what's the other one? Justin... No.... Jordan!" I smiled, remembering his name.
"Well, my dad... He uhm..." She paused. "Promise not to tell?" I held out my pinky. She shook it, grinning. "He beats Jordan." My hands flew up to my mouth. I had always just figured he was shy. "Not like... slaps him around... He really beats him. He's broken bones... And placed a hot iron on him..." She looked down. "He does it every night. I can hear Jordan crying when I get home. I've seen it happen. He leaves terrible bruises, injuries. Sometimes he can't walk or anything for a few days..." No wonder he took sick leave from school a lot. "Dillon and I have tried to stop it, but then it only gets worse..."
"This is serious, Emily... Have you ever thought about reporting him to the authorities?" Her eyes widened.
"No! He'd kill Jordan. He already blames him for mom leaving... That's why he's so awful to him. Jordan blames himself... He always has." I felt the tears stinging my eyes. "He's always been jealous of Jordan, and I know he loves Jordan deep down... But I don't know what to do. I can't listen to him cry himself to sleep anymore, Tay. He's been hurt enough. What do I do?"
