My favorite time of the day was being in school. Surrounded with my friends, my mind on nothing but my assignments and making it on time to the next class. All the nightmares are at home, and I don’t want to go there. When the bell rings signaling the end of the school day … I have 30 minutes to get home or there will be questions why I didn’t come on time. Without a good explanation, not that any of my explanations were heard, the sound of the belt would always follow.

The bruises were always hidden. No one ever saw them, no one ever knew. I learned to smile through it all and say “I’m fine” long ago. My lips would tremble but I’d stop them by putting a smile on my face that way no one would see. The anguish and the pain my life brought to me.

That day I walked in the door, it was quiet. It usually wasn’t. Arguments or clanking dishes or loud music were always my welcome when I came home, but not today. Today was quiet. Something turned in my stomach and I started breathing harder. The smell was different too. It seemed familiar but I couldn’t place it. As I entered the living room, I knew I was too late. The argument already finished, and I was left with the clean up.

My mothers favorite dishes were broken, in tiny pieces on the floor. Bloody footprints followed through the living room where my books were thrown all over the floor. Most were ripped, but all were damaged. The couch and the sofa were turned upside down, the tv was broken. Then I heard the sob. I followed the blood drops to the corner and found my brother curled up on the floor. His feet were bloody from waking in the glass. He looked so defeated, and broken. He looked at me and said “I was late.”

As I went to pick my brother up and take him to clean up, he stood in the doorway with the belt, sinister look in his eyes. As I started to say “Please don’t” I felt the pain in my head and I fell. I don’t remember anything else.