Mother and son drove home in silence, and Benji assumed that his mother was going to grill him for details later in the evening. As they pulled into the driveway, Benji's heart skipped a beat as he saw the front door swung wide open. His mother was always meticulously careful to shut and lock the front door. He swallowed as a panicky crest rose in his stomach. I'm sure the wind blew it open, he thought, racking his mind for any explanation except the one he surely knew was true. He glanced at his mother's ashy-pale face, and she smiled apprehensively. "Stay here for a minute, honey, I'll be back in a moment."

She slowly got out of the old truck, her feet crunching on the gravel, and walked up to the house over the old stepping stones that the twins had bought her several years ago as an addition to her garden. The garden was Colleen's favorite place to spend her time - she had spent many hours carefully weeding and watering the bright cheerful flowers bordering the driveway and house.

As she moved through them now, Benji could see the weariness in her step, the way her clothes hung limply on her too-slender frame. He sat with his hands gripping the seat as his mother walked through the door. Inwardly he cringed as he heard two very contrasting voices; one quiet, calm but with an edge of fear, one loud, gruff and grating; carry from inside the house.

The voices converged together like some badly tuned symphony for several minutes before he couldn't stand the tension anymore, and grabbed his backpack and flung open the car door. His feet felt dipped in concrete as he moved up the narrow pathway to the house, as he pulled open the screen door with a squeak and stepped inside.

He raised his eyes from the ground to see his mother standing in the middle of the rug with her head lowered and eyes downcast, then slowly averted his gaze to the man sitting on the old sofa. His brown eyes, so much like Benji's own, and therefore like Joel's, eyed him darkly from within his ruddy, stubbly face. He was sprawled on the couch - one arm resting on his chest in his grubby "Big Ben's Food Mart" t-shirt, the other slung carelessly over the arm of the sofa, grasping the standard beer bottle.

"So," he said, his gravelly voice and cruel eyes making Benji shudder and look at the floor, fear and anger coursing through him. "Got in another fight, eh?"

Benji nodded, his eyes on his father's old work boots. It almost seemed as if Benji could smell the alcohol on his breath from this far away as his father laughed drunkenly.

"Can't seem to learn 'em!"

Benji looked up at his dad just in time to see the amber bottle flying in his direction, but not in time to duck. The hard glass struck him on the right temple. Stabbing pain shot through his head and fuzzy black swam before his eyes as he sank to his knees. His forehead pulsed with white-hot pain, and Benji could feel the thin stream of blood as it trickled down his hairline.

"Thought you'd fuck up again, huh?" He faintly heard his father tread heavily across the floor to tower over him. He felt a sharp jerk as his father seized a handful of Benji's hair and yanked his head up. Benji slowly opened his eyes to look into his father's face. His dad's eyes were large and angry, but unfocused; it was almost as if his very eyes were drowning in liquor.

Out of the corner of his eye, Benji could see his mother sitting on the couch, her knuckles pressed tightly to her mouth, her face so white it seemed transparent. He felt another burning tug on his scalp, this time the hair being pulled was from the same area struck by the beer bottle, and Benji bit his lip to keep from crying out. His father shoved his face close to Benji's, his dark, drunken eyes, eyeing him unemotionally.

"You just don't give a shit, do you?"

His words slurred together, and it was only by long experience that Benji could understand him. He saw his dad's hand flying to his face, tried to avoid it but the firm grip on his hair kept his head in place as the heavy fist swung into his face. Sharp daggers of pain shot through his jaw; he felt his father release his hold on his hair, and he slumped to the floor, agony swelling through his face and dancing black clouding his vision. He closed his eyes.