Carlisle

4

Carlisle turned over in his sleep. He knew it was coming. He knew it would happen. Eventually. His brother had gone out, to where he didn't say, and was bound to return angry and unpredictable. More so than usual, at least.  And when his brother was like this, he would come into his room and hurt him. Carlisle knew his mother would sit in his parents' bedroom and cover her ears, sobbing in a far corner. Because he knew she could hear him crying and the sound of things being tossed around his room. Sometimes it was furniture, sometimes it was toys. Sometimes it was Carlisle.
Carlisle also knew that even if she had the courage to stand up to her eldest son, his mother would be dropped right then and there. She would get punched in the gut or thrown against the wall, or some other thing that the monster wanted to do. Carlisle didn't blame her, he was afraid too. He didn't understand why his father didn't do anything. Sure, mom made some excuses about where bruises or scrapes came from, but surely he knew. His father worked the night shift and was only home when they were at school and furthermore was catching up on missed sleep. 
Carlisle didn't have this luxury as he was frequently awoken by his brother's rage.
From down the hall, Carlisle could hear the front door open. Heavy, uneven footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor and were muffled when they reached the hallway carpet. Carlisle curled up in his blankets and shut his eyes tightly, wishing for the footsteps to carry on past his door to the last room at the end of the hall. However, the footsteps stopped and in a moment of terror, thinking that his mother would be the receiving end of the flaming rage that night, he peaked from under his blankets. He could see the light shining through the bottom of his door, broken only by two dark shadows. The huge feet that could kick so hard that you would end up on the other side of the room. 
Slowly his doorknob turned and slowly, the looming figure stumbled in, dark eyes half lidded and red. The broad shadow looked down at the lump of blankets that was Carlisle and sniffed. Carlisle stiffened. Maybe he could smell him? Maybe his eyes couldn't see so well in the dark and now he had to smell for where Carlisle was hiding. His brother tore the blankets away. Carlisle covered his ear and shut his eyes again. His brother grabbed Carlisle's ankle and yanked him out of bed, throwing him onto the floor.

"Aw, I'm sorry. Did I interr~upt your beauty sleep?" He mocked. Carlisle stayed on the floor. He knew the pain of being kicked back down and he didn't care enough to try anymore.
"GET UP!" A foot connected with his side, lifting him from the ground. Carlisle grunted, the air driven from him, falling back to the floor. He coughed, blood splattering the floor from the reopened gashes in his mouth.

"Weak." Bardroy scoffed. Carlisle lifted his head feebly.

"I-I'm sorry!" He cried, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth and the edge of his bottom lip.

"YOU CAN'T BE SORRY FOR BEING BORN, PEST!" The beast roared swiping Carlisle up by the collar and punching him in the face. Tears, snot, and blood were streaming down the nine year old's face as his brother dropped him to the floor and reached for the ceramic bedside lamp. "I'm gonna put things back to-o how they were." Bardroy slurred as his body swayed, the lamp at his side. He smiled wickedly and raised the lamp into the air, poised to bring it down on his runt of a brother. "You never should'a been born." he growled under his breath.
There was a loud 'thud' and the boy fell heavily to the ground. Carlisle turned his head, slightly dazed, to see his father wrestling with Bardroy on the floor. He had never seen his father wear an expression like that ever, not even when he had accidentally broken one of his mugs. No, Carlisle's father looked more than livid- he looked enraged, more so than Bardroy ever had. His face was distorted with anger and Carlisle swore he could see his eyes glisten with tears, but the thought was gone in an instant as the lamp flew across the room and shattered against the dresser.
"HOW COULD YOU DO SOMETHING SO STUPID?" the man yelled into the teenager's face, pulling him up from the floor. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO THIS FAMILY?!" he pushed Bardroy into the hall and continued to advance. He even began to revert to his first language. "أنت غبي! أنت عار!" he shoved Bardroy harshly, causing the boy to stumble over himself and fall onto his backside.

"الأب، من فضلك، أنت سوء فهم." Bardroy replied, drunkenly trying to crawl backwards from his father and stumbling over his Arabic wording. His father dragged him by the collar and tossed him out of the front door.

"Do not come back to this house or this family ever." he looked down at his former son disapprovingly and slammed the door shut, locking it securely. And that was the end of that.