1 Broken

"Gilbert Harrison, why do you even bother to return home broken and beaten! You're so pathetic. How dare you call yourself a Finnegan."

Gil trembled as he the sting of his father's words settle beneath his skin. He quivered with the slight pain of his salty tears as they contaminated the fresh cut upon his sickly pale skin. Deep within his stirred conflicting emotions regarding the several ways of handling the situation. There's only so much a seven-year-old boy can take.

Gil looked to his mother, who was simply at a loss for words but still had a hint of sympathy in her eyes as they fell upon her son. She wanted to shield the boy. What kind of mother could just sit there as her husband belittles her biological child? Her husband turned to face her with a sense of stern in the amber eyes buried behind his dingy glasses. He didn't want her to come to Gil's defense. There was no excuse for her to baby the boy. She sighed softly before speaking.

"Your father's right," she said as if trying to sound convincing to not only her husband, but herself as well. "You could've at least washed up a bit before coming to the table."

Gil sank in his seat. He was far too young to understand the complexity crossing a line in an abusive relationship to know that his mother was forced to side with his father. He felt helpless as he sat there silently, staring at his untouched left over spaghetti from last night. He struggled to keep himself together. He knew that any subtle indication of rebellion or even a slight sense of hesitation would only fuel the fire beneath his feet.

"E-Excuse me," the child whispered softly but still somewhat audible enough for his parents to hear. And with that, the boy left for his room.