I Liked it Better When They Were Young

*Flashback to two years ago*
Billie's P.O.V
"Useless pile of shit!"

Smash. Crash. And then a scream. I pulled the covers up closer around me and listened even more carefully. I heard my mom's voice.

"Brad, please just... put it down..." It? What was it? I crept out of bed and leant against the locked door, listening as hard as I could.

"Brad please!" Mom screamed. "Please, just put it down and we can talk about this..." Another smash. I then heard mom crying. That was it. I pulled myself up with the door handle, unlocked the door and ran down the stairs. I stopped at the open doorway. Mom was standing by the wall, her mascara bleeding down her face. Just inches away from her was a broken plate. My stepdad was standing about a metre away from her, breathing heavily. Drunk. As usual. Neither of them had noticed me.

Mom took a deep breath.

"Brad, it's really late, and you've had a lot to drink, so why don't you just go to bed and we'll talk about this in the morning..."

"DON'T SPEAK TO ME LIKE I'M A FUCKING CHILD!" Brad yelled, slurring his words. Mom flinced, as he took a shaky step towards her. "I'm not your pet....." His fist arched above his head, getting ready to fall, fast and hard....

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" Someone yelled from the shadows. It took a good three seconds before I realised it was me. Brad's fist fell back to his side, as if drained of all it's energy. Both of them looked towards the doorway, extremely surprised expressions on their faces. But no one was more surprised than me.

Brad wasn't silent for long.

"WHAT?!" He yelled, stalking towards the dooway and pulling me into the living room by my shirt. "What did you say?!"

"Billie, go back to bed!" Mom yelled, her voice wavering with fear and worry.

"NO! Stay here, you little twerp!" Brad spat at me. "What did you say?" I looked down.

"I said...."

"LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!" Brad pulled my chin up roughly to face him. Pure anger flowed through my veins.

"I SAID..." I cleared my throat, "Leave her alone." All my strength went into those three little words. But I had said them. I stared defiantly up at Brad's face, which was now contorting itself into a small smile. He jerked his thumb towards the doorway.

"Go, Ollie." Mom stayed put, but he hardly noticed. His rays of hate were now focused on me. He looked away for a fraction of a second. This is where I should have seized my chance. Bolted up the stairs, locked the door to my room and cowered in my bed. But I stayed put. When Brad looked back at me, I didn't see his face. All I saw was his fist, coming towards me in a blur of pink. And I was down on the floor.

As I tried to get up, Brad's foot came charging into my stomach.

"Brad, stop it!" Mom screamed, as he continued to ram his foot into my stomach. "STOP IT, STOP IT!" Brad stopped. My vision was starting to blur with the sheer pain. I curled up like a cocoon on the floor. Brad walked up to mom, grabbed her arm and hauled her across the room to where I was lying.

"You both keep your mouths shut. Or I'll kill you. Both of you." He turned around and stumbled up the stairs. Mom fell to her knees beside me.

"Oh God! Oh, Billie? Billie, can you her me?"

"Yeah." I screwed up my face with the effort of talking. I could hear her crying, as she summoned all her strength to carry me up the stairs. I was too shocked to say anything to her, as she put me in my bed and pulled the covers over me. She kissed my forehead, her tears falling on my face.

"I'm so sorry, baby." She whispered. I started crying.

"He hit me!" I whimpered, stating the obvious. She stroked my forehead.

"I know, sweetie."

"Well, what does this mean?" I asked, breathing shallowly. She shook her head, still stroking my forehead.

"Shhh. Go to sleep. Go to sleep." The combination of the stroking of my forehead and her rythmic voice eventually lulled me to sleep.

*Two weeks later*
Mike's P.O.V
I entered Billie's room. Oddly, I smelt alcohol as I walked in. Billie was lying on his bed. There was a sprite can next to him.

"Hey man. Can I stay over at your's tonight? I just had another fall out with my mom." Billie nodded, his head flopping about a little.

"Suuure." I squinted at him.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine." He rubbed his eyes and slid his hand down the rest of his face. I frowned.

"Ok." I said unsurely. "Can I play the playstation?"

"Shuppose Sho." I couldn't really make out what he was saying, but from his tone, it sounded like a yes. I turned on the playstation. Billie laced his fingers together before tearing them apart.

"I can't feel my handz." He murmered, a slight frown on his face. I shrugged.

"You've probably been lying on them." He said nothing. "You wanna play?" I asked him. Silence. "Billie?" I asked. I looked at him. He was sleeping! I looked at the time. It was only nine o'clock! What was WRONG with him? I leant towards him. He smelt of smoke and a lot of booze. I picked up the sprite can and smelt it. The unmistakable smell of vodka hit my nose. I sighed heavily. He'd been drinking. This was quite unlike him. Ok, so he'd get a bit drunk at parties and stuff, but binging in his room? This was new.

I nudged him.

"Billie?" His eyelids parted to reveal hazy green eyes.

"What?"

"Are you... drunk?" I asked, still a little unsure. He scoffed.

"No!" He said, laughing at the very idea. "No, of course not..." I shrugged.

"Ok." I went back to the playstation. Billie's brow furrowed and he grunted.

"Mike, I have to... I have to confess something..." I looked at him. He was silent for a second, then he got up and botled for the bathroom. I heard him throwing up from inside. I laughed.

"Nice confession, Bill!" I yelled.

"I'm druuunk." He moaned, once he had finished being sick, walking through slowly and climbing back into bed. I smiled.

"I know." I pushed him off me, as he was leaning on me. "What I don't know is why you're drunk." Billie sighed dolefully.

"Coz I'm druunk. I've been drinking, shh- smoking. Whatever...."

"No." I said gently, shaking my head, "Why have you been drinking?" He shrugged.

"Jusht been feeling a bit down...."

"Man, you don't normally do this. There's gotta be a reason." He sat up, a bit.

"Ok. Lately, my uhh.... my stepdad's been hitting me..." I looked at him, shocked.

"What?" He leered at me ludicrously.

"Don't believe me? Fine..." He pulled up his shirt to reveal bruises by his stomach. I studied them with my hands. He pushed me off him. "Quit it! You're handsh 're freezing!"

"Oh my god! That's terrible!" He half shrugged, half nodded.

"Yeah. I never really liked him that much, but now I reaaaally hate him."

"I don't blame you!" He gave me a lopsided smile, laughing hyserically at my joke, which wasn't even that much of a joke.

"Anyway, that'sh why I'm drunk." He sighed. "I jusht wanna forget it ever happened..." I nodded.

"We'll talk about this more in the morning. You're not at your best at the moment. I doubt you will be tomorrow either, but you'll be better than this. Right now you should sleep this off." He nodded. I stood up to go downstairs. He pulled me back.

"Don't leave." He moaned. "Don't leave me...." I rolled my eyes.

"Fine." I lay down next to him. He rested his head on my shoulder.

"Don't ever leave me, Mike." He murmured, half asleep. "Don't ever leave me..."

*The Next Morning*
Still Mike's P.O.V.
I knocked on Billie's bedroom door. There was no answer. I entered with caution. He had been known to lash out when he was tired. Billie was lying asleep in a really awkward position, completely dead to the world. I nudged him hard.

"Oi! Sleeping Beauty!" Billie's eyelids shot up and he groaned. He looked at me, squinting slightly.

"Hey."

"Hey." He frowned at me a bit, rubbing his eyes. "Is something wrong?" I sighed.

"Last night you told me your stepdad's been hitting you..." Billie groaned again and lay back further on the matress.

"Mike, I really don't wanna talk about this right now, my head is KILLING me. I....."

"You weren't fit to say the WORD "Stepdad" last night. So I said we'd talk about it today."

"I don't remember you saying that."

"Well, how much DO you remember about last night?" He shrugged.

"I dunno. Not much..."

"Uh huh. So can we talk about this?" Billie sighed.

"What is there to talk about?"

"How long has this been going on, Bill?" I asked gently. He rolled his eyes.

"Too long."

"And how long have you been drinking?" He shrugged.

"I don't know. I tend to drink whenever he hits me, so quite a while, I guess." I sighed. Billie looked away. "Is that all? Ok then." He pulled the covers over his head and faced the wall. I turned him over again.

"No! No, that's not all! I mean, what are you gonna do?" Billie bit his lip, which was quivering slightly. I saw a tear escape from his emerald eyes.

"What can I do?" He said, his voice breaking. "I mean, I'm a fourteen year old boy. I can't leave home. I can't fight back, I can't... I can't do anything."

"You could talk to your mom?" I suggested. Billie scoffed and wiped his eyes.

"Oh, she knows!"

"She knows he hits you?" Billie shook his head.

"No. She knows he hits.... people." There was silence as this sunk in. I shook my head wearily, and put my arm around Billie's shaking body.

"I'm so sorry, Bill." He sniffed.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Why don't you go to the police?" Billie snorted.

"You think this would even go to trial? Even if it did, how long would it get? I saw this article on the news that said a man only got three years for raping a six year old girl." He shuddered. "Three years. Three year and he'll be back in the world again. Ready to lead the same life."

"Jail changes people." I said. Billie laughed mockingly.

"Like it changed your dad?" I looked away, my face burning. I then felt his hand touch my hot shoulder.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to bring that up..."

"It's ok." I said "I know you're right, I just...."

"I'm sorry." He said again. Then he sighed and continued his peice. "I mean, imagine we turned him in. Imagine it got taken to trial and he was jailed for three years. He'd be out in three and then what would happen?"

"Well, you'd have left home. Your mom might have met someone else, you could start over." Billie frowned, annoyed that I was killing his argument.

"Yeah, but he'd probably try and find her.."

"He might not. You never know, Bill." He sighed in defeat.

"Ok, fine. Imagine it didn't go to trial. He'd still be at home, with the knowledge we turned him in. And our lifes would be hell." He sighed, "I'm leaving home as soon as possible. I won't have to deal with it for much longer." I nodded.

"Well, remember I'm here to help you deal with it for now." He smiled.

"Yeah. Thanks Mike."

*End of flashback*
Back to Sophie's P.O.V
"Billie?" I asked unsurely. He'd been silent for about ten minutes now. He came out of his dream.

"Well, all of this, the drinking that is... it started because of.... problems. At home. With my stepdad. And of course you know about my real dad." I nodded. Billie continued.

"Around this time I kind of tend to go into passive mode. Don't go to school, drink a lot. Slump into depression until September ends." I nodded, looking at the ground. He sighed and put his hand gently under my chin, bringing it up to face him. "I wish I didn't, but I don't know how else to deal with these memories." He sighed again. "But this year is a big improvement to last year...." I frowned.

"What happened last year?"