I was woken up in the morning by my angel of a mother. She nicely knocked on my door and told me to get up for school. I sloppily get up to brush my teeth and run my fingers through my hair. I throw on the first t-shirt and pants combo I see and make my way downstairs. My younger sister, Lana is sitting at the kitchen counter while my mom makes us toaster strudel. My dad isn’t here, as usual, he left for work super early and didn’t eat the nice breakfast my mom prepared for him earlier this morning. 

After I eat my breakfast, I throw on my hightop Chuck Taylors, grab my schoolbag, keys, a cold water bottle from our garage fridge and move towards my car. My mom yells from the garage door, “Aaron do you have everything?” She's always checking on me and rooting for my success. This may be because she doesn't have a single evil bone in her body but I also think she tries to make up for my dad’s absence. I give her a warm smile and yell back, “yes, thank you!” 

School was average, I was not the more sociable kid so I went along my way and only spoke to my closest friends. Teachers didn’t call on me in class, I think this is because of the bags under my eyes and a look that screams “I’m here but I’m not actually here.” As I daydream away in class, I notice one of my classmates staring at my neck. Sometimes I forget to cover my bruises because I try not to think about them.  I quickly cover it up with my shirt and try to act as if nothing happened. The whole rest of the class I’m paranoid about my bruises. After yet another uneventful day of high school, I rush out of the building as soon as the last bell rings. 

Every day after school I go to pick up my sister and we walk around the city park. She doesn't get much attention from our father, so I try to spend time with her so she has some sort of male figure in her life and doesn't feel as neglected. As we stroll around the park, we arrive at our favorite bench and I light a fresh cigarette. “Aaron, you know those things are terrible for you,” said Lana with a disapproving voice.  “It calms the nerves, Lana, it's just a temporary fix, I’ll stop soon.” She nods her head, knowing I won’t stop, but having some hope for me to eventually find a reason to stop. 

Lana and I spent a couple of hours bopping around the park and then made the journey back home. As we pulled into the driveway, I scoped out the car situation. Unfortunately for me, my father was home early. Usually, he stayed at work pretty late, then came home and yelled at my mother for doing absolutely nothing wrong, but I guess today he felt like being a misogynistic male earlier in the day. We enter the house and I tell Lana to go upstairs, and that I would bring her a snack in a minute. I try to hide her from my father when I know things aren’t. There's a ruckus in the kitchen as I was around the corner. 

My father had my mother pinned against the wall slurring his words and saying awful things to her. Immediately I am grabbing him off of her, and he retaliates, as usual. I am pushed to the ground and stomped on until I cannot breathe. This pain is dreadful, but I’d rather me endure it than my mom. When I finally gain composure, I try to calm him down and tell him to take a walk but he refuses. “Aaron, what a hero you are, always saving the day. Why don’t you give it a rest and let the adults figure it out?” he says almost falling over as he walks towards my mom. I quickly run in front of my mom, I hope I can protect her in some way or form, despite my disadvantage. I am engulfed by the smell of whiskey as I try my best to be strong for my mom. My father gets frustrated with his inability to bother my mother, and retreats. He walks out the front door and disappears. 

My mom falls into my arms and I console her. Despite me being the one in physical pain, her emotional pain is much more important. We stay like this for a little until I remember I told Lana I would bring her a snack. I grab a bag of goldfish from the pantry and go upstairs. Thankfully, I find Lana asleep on her bed, meaning she missed the commotion and wasn't pining for the snack. I set it down on her night table and decided to go take a shower. 

I enter my room, lock the door, and go into my bathroom. I turn on the shower and wait for it to warm up. As I undress, I can feel my body starting to ache. I glance at myself in the mirror and observe the new additions to my body. I have learned to accept these wounds because it is all I can do right now. I get into the shower and let out a deep breath that I have been holding since I saw my father’s car in the driveway. I used to love showers because they helped me clear my mind, but now I find my mind just racing the whole time and it is really hard to ignore the marks on my body as I try to wash. 

From the outside, I am a “troubled kid”, but little do people know that I have to be strong for my mother, my sister, and myself every day of my life. My guard is always up when I am home, and it is really hard to be away from home because I don’t know what could be going on while I am away. My friends don’t get this, but maybe someday they will. For the rest of the night, my mother and I act as if nothing happened around my sister, and all three of us act like we don’t notice the absence of my father. Before bed, I look at my bruises in the mirror one more time and remind myself that I am doing this for my mother and my sister.