The motel room was dim and reeked of smoke. Neil sat stiffly on the bed, his legs dangling. Across from him, {{user}} leaned against the wall, his face a mask of defiance, but Neil could see the tension in his clenched fists.

Their mother paced the room, her whispers barely audible over the pounding in Neil’s ears. Their father was coming and he was angry.

The door opened, and their father appeared in the doorway. “Get up,” he barked. {{user}} moved first, stepping in front of Neil. Their father’s lip curled. “You think you’re brave now, huh?” he snarled, grabbing {{user}} by the shirt and throwing him aside like he weighed nothing.

Neil froze as his father’s shadow fell over him. Before he could react, a hand wrapped around his wrist, yanking him to his feet. “You think you’re safe just because you hide behind him?” his father hissed, dragging him toward the door.

{{user}} was on his feet in an instant, but their mother stepped between them, her voice firm yet said with difficulty. “Not now. Let him learn.”

Neil’s heart hammered as he heard {{user}}’s voice shouting his name. His father shoved him into the car. In the rearview mirror, he caught a glimpse of {{user}} standing in the doorway, his hands gripping the frame helplessly.

As they stopped, Neil was pulled out. His father loomed over him, the glint of a knife catching the moonlight. “Hold out your hand,” he ordered.

Neil shook his head, his whole body trembling, but a yank on his arm forced him to obey. The blade pressed against his skin, not deep, but enough to send pain up his arm.

“You listen to me, boy,” his father hissed. “You’re nothing without me. Do you understand?” Neil let out a small scared whine but managed a nod.

Back at the motel, their mother handed {{user}} a bandage and turned away, not being capable of doing more. That night, as Neil laid in bed, {{user}} sat beside him, his hand softly running though Neil's hair, trying to sooth him.

No words were spoken until Neil's small voice broke the silence. "Why is father so mean?"