It’s been two weeks since the incident with Richard, and the tension in the house is nearly unbearable. Mom hasn’t so much as looked me in the eye since I hurt her precious drug dealer. When I can, and when I know Ethan is in a safe place, I hang out with the guys. Tonight, they decided we’d start celebrating my birthday. They were the only ones that remembered, and when they gave me shot after shot, I downed them.

Now, I’m being driven home, although I can’t open my eyes enough to see who it is.

“Go sleep it off, Lincoln,” they tell me, reaching across me to open the door. I fall out of the passenger seat of the car, getting on my feet and stumbling up the front steps of my house. I didn’t think I was this drunk.

It’s actually a miracle I’m walking in the first place. I should be passed out somewhere. I get to the front door and turn the knob. It’s locked. Swaying, I pat down my pockets until I find the one with the keys. Behind me, the car that dropped me off drives away, and I briefly wonder who it was. I squint, focusing on the tail lights that move further and further in the distance as another light approaches.

The sun.

Remembering the task at hand, I fish my keys out of my pocket and insert each one into the lock until I find the one that fits perfectly.

Turning the key to the left, I unlock the door and let myself in. All the lights are off, and while the sun peeks through the clouds, the silence I walk into assures me that everyone is still asleep.

I take the steps two at a time, walking past my mother’s room, but stopping in front of my little brother’s. I know he’s sleeping over at yet another friend’s house tonight, but I still open the door. Expecting it to be empty, I’m shocked to find a small figure laying asleep in the bed.

Internally, I panic. He wasn’t supposed to be home tonight. Knowing he wasn’t going to be here was the only reason I allowed myself to go out in the first place. I walk over to his bed, being as careful as possible to not wake him up, and look to see that he’s okay.

I don’t think my mother would physically hurt him—it’s the emotional scarring I fear the most, but I check anyway. Satisfied, I close his door and head over to my own room. Without bothering to even take off my shoes, I drop into bed and give in to sleep—both fatigue and guilt serving as my blankets.

I’m startled awake by screaming.

“Where are they?” someone yells. The question is too-familiar, and that’s when I realize Richard is back.

“I…” my mother says, but I miss whatever else she adds.

“You took them? Are you kidding me!” Richard screams back.

“I needed some. I’m sorry,”

“Where’s the money for it?”

“I don’t have any,” she says, sobbing.

I shake my head, feeling the pounding headache take hold. I get up, going to Ethan’s room. He shouldn’t have to hear this.

I open his door slightly, finding him still asleep. I look at him for a beat, wishing I could do so much more to protect him.

I turn on the speaker we keep next to his nightstand. George was getting rid of his old one, so I asked him for it to give to Ethan. Ethan was really excited to have something to listen to music on. I was excited to have something that would drown out the noise from just outside his door, like the yelling and screaming that’s happening right now.

I find one of his favorite songs on an old iPod I got from Tyler and play it. I don’t raise the volume because I don’t want to wake him up.

Closing his door, I walk quietly downstairs.

“Get off me!” Richard screams. In the kitchen, I’m disgusted by the scene that greets me. My mother is on her knees, clutching onto Richard’s leg for dear life.

She’s sobbing, her mascara running down her face. “Don’t leave! I’ll get you some money. I promise,” she begs.

“Get off!” When she shakes her head, he starts walking towards the living room, dragging her along with him.

“Can you both keep it down,” I say in a leveled voice. I don’t want to add to the noise, to wake Ethan.

Richard turns around, glaring at me. “Mind your own business, kid!”

“Asshole,” I say under my breath. I look down at my mom, but she doesn’t even glance my way.

“Fuck off!” Richard says, looking down at her, but his words are directed at me. He pries my mother’s hands from his leg, shoving her away so hard she hits the wall with a sickening thud.

Fisting Richard’s shirt, I get up in his face, aching to start a fight. Again.

“Don’t you ever touch her again.” I say each word slowly as I wait for him to remember who was begging for air the last time.

“Or what?” he spits back. “What will you do?” He says this with an air of confidence—a smug smile—and I cock my arm back, ready to knock out what’s left of his teeth.

I’m stunned when my mom wraps her fingers around my wrist and squeezes. “Stop, Aron.”

My eyes dart to her for a second before I turn back to Richard. “Get the hell out of our house and never come back,” I tell him. Knowing my mother is still standing right behind me gives me some assurance she’s finally seen through his act—can see the evil he brings.

“Don’t you dare speak to him that way.”

My mother’s tone is low—dangerous—and I’m caught off guard; I’ve never heard her speak like that before. I turn, stunned to see she’s talking to me like I’m the enemy.

“He’s a piece of shit,” I say, trying to get through to her.

She slaps me hard across the face, the sound echoing off the walls.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.

Holding back the tears.

Not because of the slap, but because of what it confirms. My mother doesn’t give a shit about me. All she cares about is him and his drugs.

“I’ll be back later,” Richard says with satisfaction in his voice. My mother begs him to stay, but judging by the sound of the door slamming, I think her pleas aren’t answered. I stand there, wondering what happened to the woman I used to know.

“Son,” she says, her voice small as she turns away from the closed door and looks at me.

With the shake of my head, I begin walking back toward the stairs.

She sniffles. “I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice cracking.

Her apology makes me flinch; I’m experiencing déjà vu. Sadly, we’ve been here before. I glance at her one last time, seeing the regret painted on her face.

Too bad it isn’t enough.

Not anymore.

“You’re sorry all the time.”