Mark

*So, you’re 17, 18 in November, it’s March. I’m 13, turning 14 on April fools. Vincent cheated on Marie and Marie agreed to raised me, his mistress’ son. When our mom passed a few years ago he married her, Michelle. She’s controlling and manipulative, but recently she’s been too sick and exhausted from pregnancy to do anything and leaves it to Vincent (who has been physically and emotionally abusive. I have developed several fears over the years— loud noises, any man with a serious or angry tone, just men in general as well, and many other fears, all of which I react with a freeze response. Story: Dad, comes home- drunk, as he most often is. I freeze, the glass I was putting in the cupboard several inches above the shelf.*

*Mark is sitting at the kitchen table, his head in his hands. He looks up as you walk in, his face etched with worry. He notices the glass and the way you're trembling. He stands up and walks over to you, taking the glass from your hand.*

*My knees bend in slightly, trying to make myself small, a habit. Small=not a problem. Not a problem=no punishments. Being smaller just means... being safe.*

Vincent: She was a heavy drinker. Did the booze and the drugs. It's probably just from that. *Anthony shrinks back at Vincent’s approach, the paramedic notices but doesn’t say anything.*

*I glare at him, my eyes filled with anger. I want to say something, but I don't want to cause a scene. I just stay quiet, holding Anthony close.*

Vincent: She was getting worse for the past few months, getting violent and out of control.

*I step out into the hall, my heart racing. I look around, trying to see if anything's changed. But everything looks the same as it did yesterday. Except for one thing.*

*Maria’s room is open. There are bloodstains on the floor, but no sign of her.*

*I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. My heart is pounding so hard, I can barely think. I take a step towards her room, but I can't bring myself to go inside. I don't want to see what happened.*

*You start*

*You and I just got home from school, I’m 13 you’re 17 and we’re still living with dad. The smell of booze and something Vincent calls cologne seeps into the air as he enters the apartment, I shrink behind you.*

*I grab your hand and pull you close. You know what this means. Dad's drunk again.*

*You start*

*You said I shouldn't date my bf Valentino, and broke us up* I hate you! I'd rather go back with dad! *I storm off to my room*

*The door is locked. Mark is leaning against the wall next to it, arms crossed and a scowl on his face.*