Chapter 23 nineteen years old "Don't ever talk to me like that again, you hear me, boy?!" Dad's voice shot through the house like a gun going off. I had just walked in through the front door, fresh off a ten-hour shift, boots dirty and my shirt clinging to my back with sweat. I didn't even know what the hell was going on yet. Just heard the yelling and knew from the sound of it that it was bad. Worse than usual. I kicked off my boots, hung my jacket on the hook, and made my way toward the kitchen, my stomach already turning. I didn't know what I'd find, but I knew the tone in Dad's voice. That mix of rage and liquor. The edge of violence simmering just under the surface. And sure enough, I stepped into the kitchen just in time to see Dad slap Odin across the face. Hard. So hard that the sound of it echoed. Odin stumbled back a step, hand going to his face. My chest locked up and every nerve in my body went tight with rage. "Dad!" I shouted. He turned, like he wasn't even surprised to see me. He let out this bitter little laugh and pointed at me like I was next in line. "You got something stupid to say to me too, boy? Huh?" he sneered. "You think you're different? You ain't. You're just as goddamn useless as him. Devil must've worked really hard to screw me over this bad. Two sons, and neither one of you worth a damn." "Dad," I said, more serious now, stepping between them and keeping my voice low and controlled. "That's enough." I only looked at him for a moment before my eyes went straight to Odin, who was still holding his face. His cheeks were flushed. His eyes were glassy, but he was biting the inside of his cheek, trying not to cry in front of us. I hated seeing him like that. He wasn't a little kid anymore. He was seventeen. Almost grown. But this shit still cut him down every time. And I knew damn well he hadn't done anything to deserve it. Odin wasn't mouthy. He didn't talk back. He kept his head down and tried to stay invisible when Dad got like this. But it didn't matter. Nothing ever mattered. Our father just needed someone to break, and today it had been him. I turned to the old man. "Have you been drinking again?" His face twisted up. "The fuck I have?! How dare you, son?" He jabbed a finger at my chest, like I was the one out of line. "Get the fuck out of my face before I smash yours in." I held still. Didn't flinch. Didn't back up. But my whole body was tense. My jaw locked, teeth grinding behind my lips. He meant it. That wasn't an empty threat. With him, it never was. I took a shallow breath and glanced back at Odin. "Go to your room." He looked up at me with wide, wet eyes. "I won't leave you alone with him." His voice was shaky, but there was this solid edge underneath it, like he was done being pushed around. His cheek was already swelling, and there was a trickle of blood coming from one nostril. It made my stomach turn. I wanted to kill our father. Truly. I wanted to take him down and never let him get up again. But I couldn't do that. Not now. Not with Odin in the room. I needed him safe first. "Odin," I said, more firmly this time. "Go." He hesitated again, but after a second, he nodded. He gave me one last look and then turned and bolted out of the room. I waited until I heard the stairs creak and the bedroom door close. Good. Now it was just me and him. "You don't get to hit him," I said. "Doesn't matter what he said or did. That's not how this works." He rolled his eyes and laughed again. "What are you gonna do, huh? Call the fucking cops on me?" "Yeah. Actually. That's exactly what I should do." "You go ahead," he spat. "They won't do shit. Cops don't give a fuck about two bratty-ass teenage boys. Especially ones like you. Always looking for trouble, always thinking you're better than everyone else." "They'll listen," I said. His eyes narrowed, and then he reached for the bottle of whiskey on the counter he apparently hadn't been drinking out of. "Don't push me, boy." "Put that bottle down, Dad." I stepped toward him, knowing I was stepping on dangerous ground, but I wasn't gonna let him drink more. Not after what he'd already done. I reached out, and he didn't even hesitate. He lifted the bottle over his shoulder and smashed it straight into the side of my head. It exploded on impact, glass shattering, liquid spraying across my face and shoulders. I stumbled but didn't go down. My hand went to the side of my head instinctively. Hot, sticky liquid ran down behind my ear and down my neck. I was bleeding. The sting was unbearable, but I ignored it as best as I could. The pain bloomed sharp and deep, and my vision wavered for a second. But I didn't cry out or flinch. I stood up straight and kept my eyes locked on him. He wanted to see me weak, but I wouldn't give him that. I clenched my fists at my sides and took a long, slow breath through my nose. I could feel a shard of glass still stuck somewhere above my temple. But I didn't care. "You're a coward," I hissed, teeth grinding together. "A sick, abusive, motherfucking coward who has never been anything but a burden on this house. You've never been a father. Not to me. Not to Odin. And you're gonna rot in hell for it. I swear to God." He launched into another fit, shouting, calling me names, spitting half-sentences in between. I didn't listen. I turned on my heel and walked out. I didn't stop until I was upstairs. I went to Odin's bedroom first, but when I saw that he wasn't inside, I turned to head to mine. Sure enough, Odin was sitting on my bed. The second he saw me, his face changed. He stood up quickly. "Owen," he said, rushing toward me. "What the hell did he do to you?" His hands went up to touch my face, his fingers gentle and trembling. "I'm okay," I muttered, stepping back a little, but not enough to push him away completely. "It's not as bad as it looks." "You're bleeding," he said, voice cracking. I could see the fear in his face. "I'll be fine," I repeated. "What happened before I came home?" Odin blinked. "I just...I came home, and he was already drunk. I tried to heat up something from the fridge, and he started talking shit. I didn't even say anything at first. Then I told him to stop, and he went off." I nodded slowly, checking him over more carefully now. His nose wasn't crooked, so it probably wasn't broken. "Does it hurt?" He touched his face lightly, then shook his head. "Not much anymore. But you..." He looked at my temple again. "You need stitches." I grabbed a clean shirt from the drawer and pressed it to the side of my head, already feeling the blood soak into the fabric. "Yeah. I know. We'll go. But first, I want you to pack a bag." He blinked at me. "Why?" "Because we're not staying here tonight." His lips parted like he wanted to argue, but he didn't. He nodded. "We'll get a motel," I said, already pulling out my duffel bag and throwing clothes into it. "I've got enough saved up to get us through a few days. Maybe a week." "Is that gonna be enough?" "I'll make it be." Once I was done packing my bag, I followed Odin into his room and made him do the same. I slung both of our bags over my shoulder and nudged Odin to follow me downstairs. Dad was still at it, yelling at no one, stumbling around, knocking things over like he didn't even realize we were moving around him. He was too far gone to notice us. While he tore through the cabinet looking for another bottle to drain, I grabbed the car keys off the counter. I wasn't about to let him get behind the wheel in this state and end up hurting someone. I spotted his wallet on the table and pocketed that too. If we were going to make it through the next few days, we'd need whatever was in there. He'd already taken enough from us. I didn't feel bad taking something back. "He'll kill you," Odin whispered beside me. "No, he'll kill himself. I'm just taking what he won't be using anymore." *** The motel room wasn't much. It smelled faintly of bleach and the air conditioner was doing its job. But none of that mattered. It was clean, warm, and quiet. And most importantly, we were in a safe place. No yelling, no fists, no walking on eggshells. I'd gotten us some fast food on the way back from the hospital. Just burgers, fries, and a few bottles of water. Odin hadn't eaten much. I knew he wasn't hungry. I wasn't really either. But I made him eat half a sandwich before he pushed the rest away. He was tired. You could see it in every part of him. The way his shoulders curled inward. The way he kept rubbing at his eyes even though he wasn't crying anymore. He'd used himself up just trying to keep it together. The trip to the hospital hadn't taken long. They'd cleaned the wound on my head, stitched it up without too much fuss. It didn't hurt much during, but now that the adrenaline was gone and my body had cooled down, the skin pulled tight around the stitches and throbbed a little. The cream they gave me helped some. They'd also handed me a bottle of pills and a small paper bag with instructions, but I hadn't really looked at them yet. What mattered most was that the staff took me seriously. When I looked one of them dead in the eye and asked them to send a police officer to our house, they didn't waste time. I told them to pass along where we'd be staying, but that I didn't want to talk about it anymore. Not with them. The damage was done, and now it was the cops' job to handle it. I'd said enough. Now, sitting in the motel room, it was the first time in years that I felt like I could exhale. My mind was still racing, but my body had let go. The fight was over. At least for tonight. Odin sat on the edge of the bed in his hoodie and sweatpants, his fingers playing with the strings on his hoodie like he used to when he was younger. His face was pale, his eyes red, but the swelling in his cheek had gone down some. His nose had stopped bleeding hours ago. "What if the cops don't take him away?" he asked suddenly, his voice quiet. "They will," I said, keeping my tone calm. "They don't have a choice." "But...what if they don't?" He turned to me, and I could see the panic creeping back into his face. I got up from the armchair I'd been sitting in and walked over to the bed, sitting down beside him. I didn't say anything at first. I just wrapped my arms around him and pulled him against me. He shifted without hesitation, resting his head on my shoulder, breathing deep like he was trying to slow his heart down. I leaned back against the headboard and held him there, rubbing his back. "Then we don't go back," I said after a while. "We find a place. Something small. Doesn't have to be much. Just somewhere with a lock on the door and no one yelling at us every time we breathe wrong. I've got some money saved. It's enough to get us started." Odin didn't answer right away, but I felt his hand reach for mine. I took it and brought it to my chest. "We'll keep each other safe," I said, more firmly this time. "That's all we've ever done. That's all we need to do now." "Promise?" I turned toward him and let go of his hand to cup his face. I used my thumb to wipe under his eye, and when he looked up at me, I held his gaze. "I promise," I said. "I promise you that no matter what happens next, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right beside you. And I won't let him near you again. You won't ever have to be scared of him again." Odin nodded slowly, swallowing hard. His shoulders dropped just slightly, like the weight of what I'd said had hit him somewhere deep. He leaned in, and when he kissed me, I let it happen. I kissed him back and pulled him a little tighter against me. We didn't talk about this part of us. Not often. Not out loud. But it was there, and it always had been. It started after one of Dad's worst nights, when we were both younger, and we'd hidden in the laundry room while glass shattered upstairs. He couldn't stop shaking, and I couldn't stop holding him. At some point, that closeness turned into something else. Something more. And while we both knew it wasn't normal, it was the only thing that ever made the fear go away. It wasn't about sex and getting ourselves off. Not really. It was about survival. It was about having one place where we didn't feel alone. Now that Dad was out of the picture, I didn't know what this meant for us. If we'd still need it. If it would fade with time. I didn't know if we were going to be okay. But I knew this: we were safe for now. We were together. And whatever happened next, we'd figure it out side by side. I broke the kiss and pressed one on his forehead and held him until his breathing slowed and his body relaxed. I could feel him drifting off. His head was still on my chest, and I didn't move. We both needed rest. *** present day "You sure that's what she said?" Odin asked. "Yes," I said, running my hands through my hair, pacing in front of the bed. I couldn't stand still. I couldn't sit down. I could barely think straight. "She said it like she meant it. She wasn't confused. Not scared. She was honest. I never thought we'd be in this position. I never thought it could happen." Odin sat up fully now, rubbing the back of his head. I had woken him minutes earlier with the news, barely giving him time to adjust. He looked tired and disoriented, but I needed him alert. I needed him with me in this. "You're sure she wasn't sleepwalking? Delirious? Dreaming?" he asked. "God, no." I turned toward him quickly. "She was wide awake. Fully in control of her words. She knew exactly what she was saying. And I didn't even have to push for it. She came right out with it. Rhys and Dash were standing there looking guilty and ashamed. And now I can't stop thinking...how the hell did we miss this? How could we be so goddamn blind?" Odin exhaled hard through his nose, shaking his head. "We weren't blind. Come on, Owen. Don't go there. We couldn't have known." I stopped pacing and stared at him. "Yes, we could've. We should have. We should've fucking known that our mess, our history, our choices would echo into their lives somehow. We should've been smarter. We should've gotten help back when we had the chance. We should've gone to therapy. Real therapy. Not just ignoring it and moving forward like nothing happened." "Stop." Odin's voice cut in sharp. His tone changed, suddenly harder. "Don't do that to yourself. Don't do that to me either. You know damn well that what we went through wasn't normal. It was survival, Owen. You and me, and what we had, it was how we stayed sane. It's how we got through. There was nothing wrong with us back then. We needed each other, and we needed each other that way. That's the truth, and you know it." I turned away, because part of me didn't want to hear that. Part of me didn't want to agree, even though I did. "Then explain to me," I said quietly, "why our kids are doing the same thing. We never laid a hand on them. Never hurt them. Never screamed in their faces or hit them or made them afraid to breathe in their own home. We broke the cycle, didn't we? That was the whole goddamn point. So how does this happen?" Odin didn't answer right away. He ran both hands through his hair and stared down at the floor like the answer might be hiding in the carpet. He looked lost, and I hated seeing that. "I don't know," he finally said, and his voice had changed again. "I really don't. But I know we can't come at them angry. That's what our father did. That's how he handled things. We can't be that." He was right. I knew it. But it didn't make the knot in my chest any looser. My mind was still running. I could hear my father's voice in my head, clear as day, and it made my stomach twist. I could hear the way he used to scream when he was drunk, the way he'd fly off the handle for the smallest thing. If he'd ever found out about what Odin and I had done when we were younger, he would've killed us. No hesitation. He would've dragged us outside and put us in the ground. I wasn't him. We weren't him. Still, that didn't make this any easier. "We'll talk to them," I said, quieter now. I sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed my hands over my face, dragging them down, feeling the roughness of my beard and the scar along my temple. That old scar always pulled a little when I was tense. A reminder of the night we got free. The night everything changed. I remembered that night in brutal detail. Odin bleeding from the nose. Me barely standing after taking a bottle to the side of the head. The hospital. The motel. The news that cops actually did their job for once. Taking the bastard away in cuffs. No one looked back. We didn't cry. We didn't flinch. We just let him go. It was the best night of our lives. "You think we should keep it private?" I asked, my voice rough. "Handle it ourselves?" "I think," Odin said, stepping closer, "that if we can handle it without causing them more shame or fear, then yes. But if either of them looks like they're drowning in this, we ask for help. We don't want to punish them, but to help them. Just like we would if they broke a bone." He was right. We needed to understand them before we reacted. Understand what caused this. If there was something bothering them that led to their intimacy. "Come here," he said gently, placing a hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him and hesitated. But then I stood and let him pull me in, and for a moment, I just stood there with my arms around my brother, feeling how tightly he held me. It had been a long time since we'd hugged like this. We'd grown apart over the years. Only physically. Nothing could break that part of us that had survived hell together. After our wives died, I don't think we could've made it without one another. We'd leaned on each other more than we ever admitted. That bond hadn't disappeared. It had just changed. The intimacy we once shared...it faded over time. Because it had to. Because the reason for it-the abuse, the fear, the constant survival mode-it stopped. And when that went away, we finally had space to just be brothers. But now, watching history threaten to repeat itself, I wasn't sure what to think anymore. "We'll figure it out," Odin said into my shoulder. His voice was steady again. Full of quiet confidence. "Yeah," I murmured. "We have to." And we would. Because no matter what mistakes we'd made, or what had been passed down without us realizing, one thing was certain-we would never become our father. Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!