Toy Boy | Chanlix

Bruised Hearts

The house was quiet when Chan walked in, a tension in the air that made his skin crawl. The soft glow from the living room was the only light on, and as he stepped further into the house, he heard it—the muffled sound of his sister's crying.

Chan's heart plummeted.

He moved quickly, almost running to the small corner where his sister, Hanna, was huddled. Her tiny frame shook with each sob, and she clutched a worn-out stuffed animal to her chest. Chan's hands shook as he crouched down beside her, his own fear momentarily forgotten.

"Hanna," he whispered, reaching out to touch her arm gently. "What happened?"

Her big eyes, red and puffy from crying, met his. "Dad... he got mad again," she managed to choke out between sobs. "He... he threw things, and he yelled at me because I... because I didn't clean up fast enough..."

Chan's chest tightened with a mix of anger and helplessness. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he tried to comfort her. "It's okay, Hanna. I'm here now. I'm so sorry."

She buried her face into his shoulder, her small body trembling. "I was so scared, Chan..."

He held her tighter, feeling the weight of her fear and the pain that was all too familiar to him. The anger simmered in him, but he forced himself to stay calm. Hanna needed him to be strong right now.

"It's going to be okay," he murmured, though the words felt hollow even to him. He didn't believe them, but he needed her to. "I'm here. I'll protect you."

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps—heavy, uneven—echoed through the hallway. Chan's heart sank as he turned to see their father stumbling toward them, a dark look in his eyes. The smell of alcohol was strong on him, and Chan instinctively placed himself between his father and Hanna.

"What the hell are you doing?" their father slurred, glaring down at them. "Get out of my way, Chan. You're always in the way."

"Leave her alone," Chan said, his voice trembling but firm. He could feel his sister clutching at his shirt, her fear palpable. "She didn't do anything wrong."

Their father's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't you tell me what to do in my own house, boy. You think you're so tough?"

"I'm not scared of you," Chan lied, his voice wavering. The truth was, he was terrified, but he had to protect Hanna. She couldn't be the one to bear this burden.

Their father's hand shot out, grabbing Chan by the collar and pulling him up to his feet. Hanna screamed, but Chan forced himself to remain calm. "Please," he begged, "just leave her alone. It's not her fault."

"You think you can talk to me like that?" their father growled, his grip tightening. Chan could feel the fabric cutting into his skin, but he refused to back down.

"Stop it!" Hanna cried out, her voice desperate. "Please, stop!"

The next moment happened too quickly for Chan to react. His father's fist connected with his face, sending a shockwave of pain through his jaw. He stumbled back, but his father wasn't done. Another punch landed in his stomach, knocking the wind out of him, and Chan fell to the floor, gasping for air.

Hanna screamed again, but Chan barely heard it over the ringing in his ears. He could taste blood in his mouth, and his vision blurred as he tried to get up, to fight back, but his body wouldn't respond.

"Chan!" Hanna's voice was frantic, but there was nothing he could do. His father loomed over him, ready to strike again, when suddenly, a voice cut through the chaos.