Best Friends.

Timmy

I knew Taylor was treated like a queen when around Sammy. But what I didn't know was how she was treated when everyone had gone to bed, and no one was up to witness the monster of my father do one of the few things he did to express himself.

He had clearly expressed his work, high in pride. The theme? Anger with a dash of alcohol. The canvas? My once beautiful, now covered in bruises sister.

He painted his expression using his hands and feet to paint purple all over her arms, blue on her legs with tints of green and yellow/red/brown ones on her back.

I sat there on the couch with my sister crying on my shoulder. I would occasionally text Sammy telling him what happened and to come over ASAP. If there was one thing that could calm down Taylor, it was Sammy.

How did I know what happened last night in exact detail? He forgot to check the storage closet of a room to see if the one person he forgot to check was up.

Taylor shifted and I stopped hugging her. "I need a minute alone." She stood up and then walked over to the bathroom. She most likely walked in there to cry some more.

Now's my chance. Its killing me to know how long this violence has been going on. By looks of her bruises, it hasn't been just days or weeks, but more like months and years.

As soon as I walked into her room, I could see how lonely she was, and how she had wanted someone to notice her, and for someone to actually care about her. Her walls were covered in drawings. Drawings of couple to be exact. (As well as a few of Sammy, her, and I). She didn't just want attention and compassion to see the light, she needed it.

I closed the door to muffle the sound of me going through her art and late homework cluttered desk. What I saw on the back of the door, I couldn't figure out. Even today some 20 years later, I still don't know.

She had tally marks on the back of her door. 465 of them. But what did 465 stand for? 465 times that monster had laid a finger on her? 465 days alone, and feeling like an outcast?

I was quickly snapped out of my thoughts when Sammy came and opened the door. He must've came into the house through the bathroom window. Taylor and I always keep that window open no matter what. It was our way of sneaking Sammy into the house, without the monster noticing.

He was holding Taylor's hand as she continued to bawl. Usually, I would be against this. Because my sister needs someone that will be there for her. Not someone that'll leave her the first time they see a bruise on her. But it's Sammy, he understands. He knows what we're going through. (In a way. He knows that our dad goes foul, and that he takes it out on Taylor. But none of this has happened to him personally).

I looked at Sammy's face. It said everything. Taylor and I's father is on his way home from the bar, and he was driving like he was foul, and ready to take it out on something. Or something.

Sammy lead Taylor and I though the window, and then to his Jeep, that was parked in the neighborhood next to ours. You know, just in case the wild animal would come home unexpectedly, he wouldn't be able to figure out that Sammy was there.

When we were all figured out in his Jeep, he took of for his house. Thank God it was about 15 miles away. A good distance from that hell hole.

I was Taylor knew Sammy. He always tried to comfort her when she was down, and he always tried to make her feel special. It was one of those things what made me think about the future. Would they end up dating and possibly get married? Would there be little Sammy and Taylor's running around? How much longer would Taylor have to live with our terrible father?

I shook the thought out of my head when Sammy asked what was on my mind. He most of known I was pondering about something.

"Its nothing." I lied.

Sammy just nodded and then looked at Taylor who was now fast asleep. We were almost to Sammy's when I noticed someone fallowing behind us.

"Um. Sammy..?"

"Yo?" He asked looking in the rear view mirror.

"Um. I think we're being fallowed." I said pointing at the guy behind us.

Crap, crap, crap, crap. The monster had seen us leave and must've Taylor and I in the Jeep.

"Shit." he said speeding up a little bit more.

"How much longer until we get to your house?" I asked. I know what'll happen if he catches us. He's going to be even more infuriated, and take that out on Taylor.

"Not much longer." He said pulling out his phone. "I'm gonna call my mom real quick and tell her to open the garage door for a quick escape."

"You realize she's gonna ask about what happened?"

"Yeah. And whatever happens. I'll take the blame. You and Taylor don't need to be getting into anymore trouble then what you're going to be in."

Sammy sped up even more, and then took a sharp turn down a dirt road. Hopefully the monster's car wouldn't be able to take the tough terrain.

I relaxed a little bit. What do I have to worry about? That car is about as old as him. Going down that road would make his car fall apart.

Suddenly, the whole Jeep veered, and I nearly fell out the back of the Jeep. Thank God Sammy's house was just down the street.

Sammy was just about flooring it, when he pulled into the garage, and then quickly closed the garage door.

Taylor had woken up, and then started crying again. My insides started to eat themselves. We're in so much trouble. And the person that's going to have to take all the pain is Taylor.

I unbuckled myself and held the door open, as Sammy led Taylor to his room so she lay down.

She laid on his bed and then slowly began to fall asleep again. But the only reason why she was falling asleep: Sammy was laying right next to her.

I sat on the couch pondering. How can something you intend to be good, end up so bad in the ending?