The fear is stronger now as I hear the heavy footsteps of a hulking man climb the stairs to our rooms. He hates climbing these god-damned stairs. It makes his work so much harder having to carry his load up the flight of stairs. He doesn’t feel quite as much hatred at climbing the stairs this time. It adds to his feeling of anger. It feeds the monster within. He smiles to himself, a wry slightly demonic grin. He knows that he’s bringing fear to the hearts of the little lambs that are not ready for the slaughter. “But, oh the joy of tenderizing the sweet flesh and soft muscle beneath,” he chuckles to himself. He knows that the process is rewarding. The finished result is well worth the climb up those stairs. "I’m not first this time. Maybe I’m safe," I think. But sadness builds from within as, once again, the littlest one is chosen first as favorites often are. “I wish that I could take that which is soon to come for him.” Ahhh, but you can, I hear my friend say in my ear. I’ll help you. You do trust me, don’t you? Just let me show you. The man peers into my room just before he heads back downstairs. He sees me gripping my pillow up to my face, the smell of it is almost enough to soothe me. My pillow acts as a small shield against his peering eyes. Those eyes sparkle and shine as he watches his prey. I can see hell in the dark shadows behind him. “Do you think that you are getting out of this? Let’s go. NOW!” He kicks me for moving too slowly. My body trembles with the building knowledge of what awaits me at the bottom of these stairs. I whimper, stumble and then regain my footing. My brother begins screaming out loud on the way down as this asshole grabs him hard by the ear and almost yanking him down the stairs. The man hopes that this will make us move faster. The temperature drops at least ten degrees as he leads us to the basement. Brother is crying now. “Stop crying,” I think to myself. “He needs to stop crying.” I almost join my brother in tears. Wee can help him, you and I. Stand up to that ass and tell him that you are not going to take it anymore. You’re strong. I can make the pain go away. Just share it with me. A little time is all that I want. We’re in the special basement room now. I hear the demanding shouts of the man upon my brother, ARE YOU GONNA LISTEN THIS TIME? HUH? ARE YOU? I can hear molecules parting as his belt slices through the air, crackling like thunder. His leather belt rips flesh off of bone and leaves its mark. My brother screams, an endless cry of agony and pain. Each scream gets successively louder as he pleads and begs for the pain to stop. It never seems to end. I count each crack of the belt, but I lose track after fifteen as pity builds from within. I hate myself for being weak. I can help him too. You need to be strong and listen to me. I’ll show you the way. GET IN HERE!! I move quickly so as not to anger him anymore than necessary. “Drop your pants,” he says as I hear my brother whimper and sneak quietly past me to his room careful not to gaze into each other’s eyes. I hear satisfaction in the assholes voice. I can help you, the other voice says. “Grab your ankles. I’m gonna whip you, and if you let go of your ankles, I’m gonna whip you more.” Ignore that fucker, listen to me. Let me help. “DO YOU HEAR ME?” he screams. “Yes, I’ve got my ankles,” I shout. I’m never prepared for the intense searing white hot pain that I feel as his belt lands and it's never quite like a bull’s-eye for in this game of his merely landing on the board is good enough. Tears flood my eyes as I feel his strikes land below my ass on my thighs. The pain overwhelms me, and I swear that I’m bleeding already. I fucking hate this man. Don’t you wish that we could kill him? I scream out in pain. I feel the muscles in my hands start to go limp as speckles of light start dancing like little fairies in the air before me. CRACK! The force of the blow causes me to let go of my ankles in a bleak effort to break my fall. I said, “Don’t let go, that’s more boy! “We can show him, you can be stronger than he wants you to be. I’ll show you. Let me take the pain. I like it. I can handle it. “Ok,” I say weakly to the voice. “Please take the hurt.” Yes, yes! CRACK! Awe yes, please, I want more. Grab harder, do not let go of my ankles, I faintly hear myself tell my new friend. I feel the burn of my nails as they dig into my flesh. CRACK, CRACK, CRACK! The pain is in the distance as I hear a chant in my head: Don’t let go. Can't let go. The other screams out loud for me, I’m not letting go! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! This lamb is strong, the man thinks. I will break him. I must break him. The defiance and hatred that he feels emanating from this child angers him. The man digs deep into his black soul and finds an inner strength. He builds on the frustrations of his everyday life. He feeds the anger and the frustration until it boils over and explodes from his body. The rhythm quickens and the intensity of each blow strengthens. Each crack of his belt represents something he hates in his life. His wife. CRACK. His job. CRACK. The bills. CRACK. His lazy wife. CRACK. His shitty job. CRACK. The fucking bills. CRACK. He repeats this mantra to himself as he continues to bring his arm back in preparation for another blow. His anger grows stronger as the little lamb in front of him refuses to cower. “I will break this little lamb. I must break him.” The belt continues to rain down on the innocent one. It’s okay. See? I can handle this for you.