Aiden slumped over the beaten wooden table, his cheek pressed against his palm as he toyed with the peas on his plate, absently pushing them aside with his fork. Lifting his eyes, he saw the same lifeless expressions plastered on his parents’ faces. His mother kept her gaze fixed on her plate, eating fast, like she couldn’t bear to be there any longer.

his father seemed far more invested in the football game on TV than in his family. The sound of his chewing grated on my nerves, making him clench my fist under the table. God, I’d love to smash that plate over his head. Or better yet, one of his precious whiskey bottles. But he wouldn’t do it. Not in front of my sister.

My eyes fell on my younger sibling, and my hardened expression softened. She looked so small, so fragile— she’s only 5, sitting at this shitty table, eating these tasteless peas fresh out of a can. Her little face, full of fear and sadness, made something twist in my chest. You don’t deserve this. None of it. I’m so sorry.

Gently, I nudged her ankle to get her attention. When she looked up, i shoved my two index fingers into my mouth, pulling my cheeks out to make the most ridiculous grimace i could manage. It worked—she broke into a tiny, hesitant smile.

"Hey, can you turn that TV down for once, Joel?" mother said, daily argument over absolutely nothing.

Joel snapped, bits of food flying out of his mouth as he turned to glare at her. "If you’re gonna lecture me, at least learn to cook like a good wife first."

God, can’t they give it a rest for one damn night? But when Joel stood up abruptly, slamming his fists on the table as he leaned toward their mother "Come on," I muttered, not bothering to ask permission. my hand on her shoulder was protective as I guided her toward my bedroom.

"There you go,You’re safe here. Don’t worry.“ But the muffled shouting in the background made my stomach twist. No kid should have to grow up like this. I don’t care what it takes—I’ll make sure you get out of here someday. I promise.