Zac hid his head under his covers as another slap sounded from the hallway. He could hear his father yelling at his ten-year-old brother, Taylor. A few minutes later, Taylor slipped into the room. Zac could hear him crying softly. Zac heard his father’s bedroom door slam. He crawled out from under his blanket, and up onto Taylor’s bed. Taylor looked at him, but didn’t say anything. Zac lay down and put his arm around Taylor. There were just too many nights like this.
The next morning Taylor’s face had a slight blue tinge, but nobody said anything. They all knew better. Taylor refused to look at his father. After breakfast, he sat at the piano, turning out angry versions of famous symphonies. Thirteen-year-old Isaac had spent the night at a friend’s house, something he did as often as he could. No one really wanted to be around Mr. Hanson when he was in one of his “moods”. They had always been afraid of him. Don’t speak unless spoken to, always do your chores, and never, ever, cry.
“I hate him. I wish he were dead,” Taylor whispered to Zac, after another beating.
“Taylor, don’t say that!”
“I do. I really do.”
“But, he’s our dad!”
“He’s a bastard.”
“Tay!”
“Zac, someday you’ll get hit once too many times, and you’ll feel this way too.”
“He’ll stop.”
“No, he wont. Never.”
Taylor walked into the front door, and heard his father yelling at someone. Probably Isaac, he thought to himself. He crept closer to the yelling, and peeked into the living room. He saw his five-year-old sister, Jessica, curled up in a chair, covering her ears and sobbing. Her arms displayed harsh red marks where she had been grabbed. Hate swelled in Taylor like never before. He glanced one more time at his sister, and walked quietly down the hallway.
Isaac could hear someone walking softly around the room. He peered over the edge of his bunk and saw Taylor putting things in a backpack.
“Tay, what are you doing?” He asked, climbing down.
“Don’t try to stop me, Ike. I’m running away.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m sick of getting beat anytime we aren’t perfect!” Taylor’s eyes filled with tears and he brushed past his brother. Isaac grabbed Taylor, as he was halfway out of the bedroom door.
“You can’t go alone.”
“Yes I can.”
“Let me and Zac come.”
“Zac? No way!”
“You would just leave us here?”
“Ike, I’m scared. What if Dad gets really mad sometime, and hurts us?”
“That’s all the more reason to take him.” Taylor sighed. Then, quietly he woke Zac up and told him the plan.
Zac jumped nervously, as a twig broke underneath his foot. He held onto Isaac’s sleeve as they walked through the woods. He was still not sure he was awake. Maybe this was all some weird dream. He wondered how long they had been walking.
“Ike, how long have we been walking?” Zac asked.
“Only about fifteen minutes, Zac,” Isaac replied.
“My legs hurt,” Zac whined.
“See, I knew we shouldn’t have brought him!” Taylor hissed.
“Lighten up, Tay,” Isaac said.
“When can we eat?” Zac asked.
“Zac! It’s like two-thirty in the morning!” Taylor exclaimed.
“So, I’m hungry!” Zac said. He was beginning to think the whole running away plan wasn’t too great. Isaac reached into his backpack and grabbed a granola bar.
“Here, don’t ask for anything else for a while!” He said to Zac. Zac nibbled on the granola bar, and quietly followed his brothers.
“I can’t believe this!” Mr. Hanson said, storming into the kitchen. His wife was sitting at the table, with her head in her hands.
“This is your fault!” She exclaimed.
“I don’t need this right now!” He snapped at her. Mrs. Hanson looked the other way. Mr. Hanson slammed out the front door and the car started up a moment later. He drove down block after block, searching for his sons. He drove down to the park and got out of the car. He searched through the equipment, and the playhouse. Just before he got into the car to leave, he spotted a small tool shed. He walked over to it, and opened the door. The three boys were lying on the floor, sleeping soundly.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!” He exclaimed, shoving them awake. They scrambled to their feet, apologizing. Zac hid behind his brothers, fearing what would happen next. Mr. Hanson pushed the boys to the car and they drove back home in eerie silence. Walking into the front door, Taylor received a hard smack on the back of his head. He stepped to the side and looked back at his father.
“I know this was your idea!” He yelled. Taylor backed against the wall.
“Dad, please don’t hit me,” He pleaded.
“Don’t you ever, ever do that again!”
“I won’t!” Taylor’s father glared at him for a moment, and then walked off. Taylor took a deep breath and stood up straight. Someday, things would change.