Where Is the Hope in a World So Cold?

My brother Chase and I have always been close. He has always stood by me throughout the years, carefully guiding me through life; teaching me wrong from right. He has chased away the monsters under my bed, the bullies in the playground. He has even stood between our father and I and taken the hits for himself and I too have protected him in my own way.

Despite Chase being only two years older than me he has practically raised me ever since I was four. He has bathed me and gotten me dressed several times when we were young. He even took on the task of feeding me on the times dad had either forgotten or was to drunk to do so. Albeit it was usually only the hardened cheese in the fridge or the mouldy bread on the side and if we were lucky we’d find some day old or more pizza leftovers lying around. It wasn't much but it kept the hunger at bay. I remember the day he finally figured out how to use the old microwave. I think he was about seven, he was so happy and proud of himself that day. He tried to explain how he figured it out with a “You put this in there, twist this thing and press this button…”. I never properly understood but I was grateful for the occasional warm bit of food even if it was only leftovers from the fridge that was probably out of date and either overheated or still slightly cold.

He hasn’t ever complained or resented me for ruining his own childhood. Our childhood was far from perfect. Our mother became a recluse, hiding in her bedroom with the lights off and the curtains drawn. Dad never failed in reminding me that it was my fault she was that way, that she changed after I was born. I tried to tell him that I didn’t mean to make her sad but he never listened. Chase would try and tell me that I wasn’t to blame but I couldn’t believe him after all why would dad lie to me?

Our father was the typical alcoholic thug, raising his voice and his fists to get what he wanted. From as far back as I remember he was always angry and as Chase and I grew his anger did too. Chase was normally the one in the firing line of our father’s harsh words but Chase never failed to smile and tell me that things were okay. I always thought that our family was normal, that it was what all mummy’s and daddy’s did. It was only in primary school that I learnt the truth.

When I was six I invited a friend over to my house after school. When we walked through the front door dad wasn’t happy about me inviting a friend over without me telling him. He ended up shouting at my friend and I, the boy got so scared he ended up wetting himself before bursting into tears and running from the house. He refused to talk to me after that, even when I tried to talk to him in the school playground. I was confused, I didn’t understand why he had gotten so upset. It’s what all daddy’s did, right?

I spoke to Chase about it and he eventually told me with a grim smile that our family wasn’t like the rest. That daddy shouldn’t shout at us so much and mummy shouldn’t be shut away. It took some time for me to comprehend what he had told me.

It was around that time, when I was six and Chase was eight that things began to get worse. Chase bought home a note from his teacher saying that Chase wasn’t concentrating on his work, asking our parents to talk to him about it. Dad didn’t talk, he yelled. He yelled and threw things. Screaming about what a disappointment Chase was, he was screaming till his face was red. His yelling bought mum down from upstairs. I remember how tired she looked, which confused me because wasn’t she always sleeping?

She went up to dad to try and calm him down, telling him that she would talk with Chase and that was when he turned his anger on her. I watched quietly from the corner as he turned and struck mum across the face telling her that it was her fault that Chase and I were such disappointments. That we would amount to nothing but worthless lay a bouts like her. I had never seen my father so angry, he had never once hit any of us. He then spun back around to face Chase before hitting him, my mother screamed as we all watched Chase fall to the floor. He told Chase that he better not let him down again before glaring at me and asking if I’d learned a lesson. I could only nod my head, I couldn’t believe how one thing could set my dad off like that. I watched as dad picked up a can from the table and walked out the door; mum only sighed and threw herself down on the sofa, burying her head in her hands.

Chase was still lying on the floor, sobbing quietly. I stepped over to him and sat down in front of him, poking his shoulder to make him look at me. He did so slowly and when he realised it was me a small smile formed making the mark and the tear tracks on his cheeks shine in the light. He leant out a hand and ruffled my hair.

“Don’t worry.” He told me. “I’ll try better at school and then daddy won’t get mad any more.”

I looked at mum once more to see if she agreed with what Chase was telling me but all she did was sigh once more before standing and stepping over us and heading back upstairs.

That was the first time dad ever got that angry but it definitely wasn’t the last. Chase tried harder at school but it didn’t matter. That wasn’t the only thing that set dad off any more, he became a ticking time bomb that would explode over the slightest thing.

Throughout our younger years our other relatives became our saving grace. Whenever mum’s parents, our grandparents or our father’s brother visited mum and dad acted like the perfect parents. Mum would come down from upstairs, make tea and snacks and dad was all smiles. Playing with us as though he did it every day, it was only when they left and the front door had been shut that the acting would end. Mum would disappear back upstairs and dad would grab a can from the fridge and sit down in front of the television ignoring our very existence.

Chase was always close to our grandfather. They were both very keen on art, they would usually be found huddled in a corner, heads close together; grey against black as they worked on some art project. Granddad always had a soft spot for Chase and would often supply him with a mountain of sweets and new art supplies. He would tell Chase not to let his artistic talents go to waste and that he believed in him. I, however was usually just a shadow as I watched them talk and play. Our uncle, Graham was a different story. He showed us both an equal amount of affection and always doted on us whenever he visited.

When I was seven and Chase was nine our grandfather suddenly died of a heart attack. The news hit Chase hard, he always tried to show a strong face so as not to be seen as weak by our father but many a night I heard him crying and I would often go and comfort him. I always felt like the older brother on those nights where he would do nothing but cry in my arms until the early hours of the morning. He lost a part of him when granddad died; I noticed that he had packed up all of his art supplies and put them under his bed where they were left to gather dust. Grandmother never visited after his death.

It was around that time that our father gradually began to get more violent. His anger wasn’t so focussed on Chase any more, slowly he was starting to turn on me. I got into a fight with some bullies at school, they were picking on me. There were seven of them and one of me, I only acted out of instinct to get him out of my face. I ended up punching the leader of their group and giving him a nosebleed. When dad found out he flipped, as soon as I got home that day he was in my face yelling at me. That was the first time he hit me.

From then on it seemed to be a daily battle with him. If he wasn’t hitting me then he was hitting Chase. No matter what we did we were considered disappointments he never failed in reminding us how pathetic and useless we both were. Whenever mum tried to intervene she too would get hit. We were all walking on eggshells. If we got out of bed to slow we would get hit, if we didn’t do the housework we’d get hit; if we came home late we’d get hit.

Plenty of times one of us was left bleeding and bruised on the floor. Whenever Chase found me like that he would carefully pick me up and hold me and he would always whisper the words…

“You’ll be okay. I promise you one day this will end. We will be okay; this will end.”

Whenever I looked at him I could see the hope in his eyes as he smiled at me, I could hear the determination in his voice and I would always believe him.

It was also in that year when I was seven that mum surprised us all, she came downstairs with her suitcase packed and declared that she was sick of all the yelling and the beatings and that she was leaving. She said she would take one of us with her, she couldn’t take us both as there wasn’t room at her sister’s house. Chase stepped forward and told me to go with her, that he would be fine on his own. I didn’t want to leave Chase behind, I couldn’t bare the thought of him being left alone with dad; but mum grabbed my arm and told me that it would be okay that we would come back for Chase. I could only nod as she pulled me out to the car. She loaded up her old beat up Honda as I stared blankly at Chase. He smiled at me and nodded his head.

“Go, I’ll be fine. It’s better if you go.” He whispered, his eyes welling up with tears.

Mum got in the car and I slowly followed leaving all my belongings and Chase behind. We went and stayed with her sister, my aunt Sarah. She welcomed us with open arms, it was a welcome change from life at home but I couldn’t stop worrying about Chase. My worry began to gnaw away at my insides, I couldn’t sleep and I struggled to eat.

We had been staying at my aunt Sarah's for several months and I began to have doubts that maybe we would never go back for Chase. One night I heard talking downstairs and began to make my way down to voice my opinions on returning home.

“You should head back. What about Chase? I’ve heard rumours that he’s not doing good, you need to go back. For your son’s sake.” I heard Aunt Sarah talking and I stopped short in my descent and listened.

“I can’t go back, I’ve already told you what that man is putting us through.” Mum replied sounding upset.

“What about Chase! He’s going through hell now that he’s an only target. I’ve heard from my friend who works at the school that Chase is black and blue and what about Noah? You know as well as I do that he’s suffering. He need’s his brother. You must go back.”

I didn’t want to hear the rest and so I headed back upstairs wondering what mum’s decision might be, I was scared of going back to dad. He’ll be so angry that we walked out on him. I couldn’t sleep that night, my emotions were all over the place. Mum surprised me early that morning, she came to wake me at six, already packed and ready to go. We quickly loaded the car and we were off heading back to Chase and dad.

As we pulled into the driveway Chase was sat on the front doorstep already awaiting our arrival. Our aunt’s friend hadn't been exaggerating, his face was a multitude of colours ranging from black to yellow like some distorted rainbow that brought pain in the end not gold. He grinned widely when he saw the car causing a cut on his lip to split, a small bead of blood slowly trickled down his chin before he quickly wiped it away. I scrambled out of the car and ran to him, throwing myself at him as I hugged him. I noticed he winced before pulling away, telling me how much he missed me before ruffling up my hair.

It didn’t take long for us all to settle back into the usual routine. Dad was angry, mum was out of site and Chase and I did everything we could to keep our father happy. Something had changed though, Chase wasn’t the same as he was when we left. He rarely smiled any more and whenever he did the smile didn’t meet his eyes. He was jumpy and quiet and seemed even more fearful of our father. Several times I would witness our father lean down and whisper something in Chase’s ear, I would watch as the colour would drain from Chase’s face as he shook his head. Biting his lip before glancing at me.

Our uncle was visiting a lot more but our father no longer hid behind a façade of a happy doting father. Chase even seemed fearful of Graham and would always keep his distance watching quietly as I would sit and chat to him. He would bring us gifts but Chase would never accept anything offered.

Time dragged on as did the beatings. Chase tried to protect me when he could, diverting our father’s anger onto himself. Chase would still pick me up from the ground and whisper those words to me.

“You’ll be okay. I promise you one day this will end. We will be okay; this will end.”

However things were changing. The hope was dying in Chase’s eyes, the determination was fading from his voice. I was finding it ever more difficult to believe him. It began to feel like this would never end, like we were going to be stuck in this vicious life style for ever.

When I was eleven and Chase was thirteen things took a turn that nobody saw coming. When Chase and I got home one day mum was already downstairs and dad was already shouting.

“...When are you gonna become a mother to those kids?! I’m sick of looking after the worthless brats!”

“I’m trying! I…”

“No! I don’t want to hear your pathetic excuses. You wanted those kids and now you’ve got them you expect me to do all the work!”

“Well you’re not doing a very good job!”

“Better than you, least they actually see my face on a daily basis. You...you shut yourself away all day and sneak out at night to go and do god knows what you filthy whore!”

Chase and I could only watch from the doorway as the argument continued, both of us too scared to move. One of us must have made a sound or something for it wasn’t it long before dad turned his hateful glare onto us.

“Oh look! If it isn’t my delightful offspring!” Dad called his voice heavy with sarcasm, a sinister grin on his face as he stepped towards us.

“Don’t you dare hurt them!” Mum yelled grabbing hold of his arm, I watched as dad swung around with his fist raised. I watched as his fist collided with mums face before she fell to the floor, unconscious. I could feel Chase move closer to me and put a hand on my shoulder as dad slowly made his way towards us.

“Do you know what I should do to you? You’ve ruined my life! I was happy before you lot came along and so was your mother. We were fucking happy! I was supposed to make something of my life but instead I have to deal with a pair of fucking kids I never wanted!”

“You can’t blame us for that!” Chase yelled, his grip on my shoulder tightening as I began to shake.

“No, maybe I can’t but I can get rid of you. It shouldn’t be too hard, it’s not like anybody would miss your pathetic faces.”

I felt my eyes go wide and glanced at Chase, Chase seemed to be mirroring my shock. Dad couldn’t be suggesting what I thought he was, could he? Chase leant down and put his mouth near my ear.

“Run, Noah. I’ll stop him from coming after you. When I move, run and hide.” He whispered.

I barely had the chance to register his words before he threw himself at dad. Dad wasn’t expecting it and Chase managed to easily knock him down.

“Run, Noah!” He yelled but I couldn’t move, my legs had frozen in place and I could only watch in horror as dad easily threw Chase off and to the ground before looming over him and hitting him repeatedly. I could hear my brother’s bones crack as he screamed and still I could not move. I too began to scream as Chase’s body was mercilessly beaten.

Dad finally stepped away from Chase, leaving him an unconscious bloody mess on the floor. He turned to me and grinned a sadistic smile, Chase’s blood splattered on his face and hands. He chuckled quietly to himself before stepping over Chase and heading to the kitchen.

My mind was screaming at me that I should run but still I couldn’t. Instead I knelt down in front of Chase and gently shook him, calling his name but Chase remained still. I heard my dad’s heavy footsteps and I glanced up to see him coming towards me. I was about to scream out some insult to him for hurting Chase so bad but my throat closed up when I saw what was in his hands.

He advanced towards me with a knife and I quickly tried to scuttle back and away from Chase. I felt for sure he was going to kill me and I knew there was no hope in me trying to fight him. I lay on the floor my arms holding me up as dad came closer and knelt down in front of me.

I whimpered something incomprehensible as he leant in closer, the smell of alcohol was strong on his breath.

“I’m gonna enjoy this.” He grinned as he raised the knife. I squeezed my eyes shut expecting any second to feel the knife pierce my skin. Instead I heard a dull thud and the smell of alcohol leave but I still didn’t dare open my eyes. What if dad was just toying with me? I quickly curled up into a ball with my eyes still shut. Least if was like this I was less exposed but still I felt nothing. I felt my body start to shake and still I didn’t move. Eventually I felt a hand on my shoulder causing me to instinctively flinch away from the touch.

“It’s okay. It’s over you can open your eyes now.” Mum’s voice washed over me. I slowly opened my eyes and saw mum crouched in front of me. She gave me a small smile, I sat up and threw myself into her arms sobbing hysterically as she tried to soothe me. When I eventually calmed down she pulled away from me and went over to Chase who was still lying unmoving on the floor.

Mum checked him over and told me he would be okay. Relief flooded through me. We were okay, dad didn’t win. I glanced around the living room looking for dad and noticed his unconscious figure on the floor a lamp lay discarded a few feet away. I presumed mum had knocked him out with that and for the first time that evening I breathed a sigh of relief.

Dad never hit us after that and mum stayed with him. I’ll never understand mum’s reasons for staying but she forgave dad easily almost as though he had never attempted to end mine and Chase’s life. She told Chase and I that he’d just lost himself temporarily and that he never meant to seriously hurt us. I never really believed that though and I don’t think Chase did either. Chase miraculously healed well despite the serious beating. Mum never took him to the hospital, said it would cause to my questions and so Chase was left to heal on his own and he did so surprisingly well. Now all that remains of physical marks for Chase is a slightly crooked nose and a barely visible horse shoe shape scar in the corner of his left eye. I know his broken wrist that was never put in plaster still causes him problems though he rarely complains about it now.

After that mum started to come downstairs more and dad was trying to stop drinking. The beatings stopped, I like to think that dad had finally seen the error of his ways. We all slowly moved on with our lives as if that terrifying day had never happened; as if our younger years weren't spent living in fear. It’s never mentioned but I'm sure we all think about it on a regular basis. I know I do. I still live in fear that one day dad will snap and that the next time we won’t be so lucky.

It’s been four years since that dreaded day, since dad stopped taking his anger out on us with his fists but now he wasn't doing that was he just bottling it up inside? As I far I could see it dad was just a dormant volcano and one of these days he was going to erupt.