CHAPTER FOUR

"Zac! What happened?!" Isaac demanded instantly, it was five minutes later, and Isaac and Taylor had entered the room to find their younger brother lying on the floor in pain.

Taylor instantly sensed distress in Zac – and rushed over to help Zac up. Zac let Taylor help him onto his bed, and he slowly began to calm down.

Isaac immediately noticed the purpling spot on Zac’s cheek. "What happened to your face?"

Zac looked at Isaac and Taylor. He couldn’t tell them – because he knew somehow that Don would know. He swallowed hard, took a deep breath. "I fell."

"What do you mean you fell, how did you fall?" Isaac asked worriedly.

"I was fooling around…jumping on the bed…" Zac trailed off. "It hurt a lot…my shoulder feels a bit sore…I landed on my shoulder…"

"Then how did you hit your face?" Taylor asked, examining Zac's red cheek closely.

"Off of the bedpost," Zac answered wearily.

"Oh…" Taylor muttered. "Well…you better do something or it could swell…"

"Are you okay?" Isaac asked.

"Yeah…" Zac nodded.

"You better not do that again, Zac. What if you’d hit your head on the bed instead of your face, you could have knocked yourself unconscious, maybe even killed yourself," Taylor warned.

"I’ll be more careful in future," Zac nodded his head.

Yeah, like maybe carrying a gun with me in future, Zac thought. God, why did I let him do that – I could have done far worse than kick him in the balls…I mean, beat Tay up when I was nine and actually made him cry! Why couldn’t I do that to Don?

Because he’s bigger than me and he’s trained to take pain. He could hurt me so bad even my brothers wouldn’t be able to recognise me after the damage he’d done. Zac got up. "I’ll just go get a cool washcloth for my face," he said to himself, and he headed for the bathroom.

In the bathroom mirror he saw his reflection had changed from that of a normal healthy twelve year old boy to one of a twelve year old boy with fear in his eyes. Zac saw his lip tremble, he was getting a bruise already from where Don had slapped him, and his face felt numb and tight. Zac prodded at the area gingerly. "Ow…" he whined at himself, he lowered his eyes. Don really hurt me – and I can’t really do a thing about it either. If I tell…what would he do to me? Would he hurt me worse? Why does he even want to hurt me? Does he get some kind of sick twisted pleasure out of beating the crap out of kids?

The answer to Zac’s last question was obvious.

Yes.