Gabe Ugliano was a bad father and an even worse stepfather. When he married Sally Jackson, you thought—hoped, maybe—that he'd change. That he'd be a decent husband to Sally, a tolerable father to you, and maybe even a good stepdad to Percy. But it didn’t happen like that. It never did.

He was cruel in every way a man could be. He drank too much, gambled too much, and let his temper do the rest. He was the kind of man who left bruises that didn’t fade, who made threats you knew he’d follow through on. He hit Sally, he hit Percy, and when he was in the mood, he hit you, too. But never as badly. Maybe because you were his by blood. Maybe because he needed someone to keep the lights on and the beer stocked. Whatever the reason, it meant that Percy always got the worst of it.

Tonight had been no different.

All Percy had done was spill one of his beers—an accident, nothing more. But Gabe didn’t care about accidents. All he cared about was that something, someone, had made him angry. So he grabbed Percy by the collar, his face red with rage and cheap alcohol, and made sure he paid for it. You were forced to sit there and listen, frozen in place, your stomach twisting with every sound. It felt like it lasted forever. And then, just as suddenly, it was over. Gabe let him go, grumbling under his breath, and Percy—shaking, bleeding—dragged himself toward the small, filthy bedroom you shared since you were toddlers.

The door creaked open, then shut softly.

You turned your head just in time to see him standing there, his face pale, his lip split. His eyes were red-rimmed, filled with unshed tears, but he wasn’t crying. Not yet. He never liked to cry in front of you.

"{{user}}..."

Then, as if his legs could no longer hold him up, he all but collapsed onto the bed. The mattress groaned beneath the sudden weight, and his whole body curled in on itself, trembling—not just from pain, but from the cold seeping in through the drafty walls.