**** Content Warning for Abuse and Violence****

The prop room in the theater was a bit spooky. Hundreds of random items sat on shelves unorganized and thrown haphazardly around the room. It looked like a bad episode of Hoarders.

Carson and I were trying to sort through it all to find anything we could use. So far, in the mess, the only useful items I'd found were a fake sword and a crumpled bouquet of plastic flowers. Carson unearthed a plastic rock and a fake tree in the corner.

He had headphones on his ears and was rocking out to some song on his phone. I couldn't hear it, but I could see him bobbing his head to the beat.

I pulled a rubber chicken from the rubble. I should have volunteered to paint the set like Jules and Rita or offered to show Lilly how to run the lighting board. I didn't know how the lighting board worked, but I was starting to regret volunteering to sift through all this junk. It felt like the walls were closing in, and we'd be buried six feet under.

Lilly got along well enough with Kai when I introduced them. My sister was happy to help with the production since it got her away from our dad. Today, I'd set Maddy up on a play date, and Mary was at some school academic competition, so they weren't at home, which was a relief for both of us.

Dad didn't protest when Lilly told him she was joining the play. She was his favorite, after all. Lilly never did anything wrong in his eyes.

When I'd first told him I was staying out after football practice for a play, he laughed. He thought I was wasting my time. Then he let me know theater would get me nowhere in life.

I still joined. Uncle Anton needed me in the production to keep his favor with the school. I might have been the reason the school district even gave the play a small budget. They couldn't have their school quarterback in a ragtag production at the festival.

Dad usually didn't leave his mark on me. He might have been an angry man, but he was still intelligent. He knew if my teammates saw marks on me in the locker room, they might get suspicious.

The girls were more vulnerable. Mary got so scared some nights she'd sneak out and sleep in my jeep. Lilly's arm got broken when she tried to keep Dad's belt away from Maddy after she dropped a pitcher of orange juice on accident. He'd pushed her through a window, and she landed on her arm.

Last night, I'd tucked the girls in bed. Then, I headed to the kitchen to grab an orange and a protein bar before starting my homework.

Dad had been sitting on a kitchen bar stool, nursing a bottle of bourbon and a shot glass. He poured another drink as he looked at some case papers.

"Feeling brave, boy?" He said, and the smell of alcohol stank on his breath.

"No, sir," I'd said.

"I saw that B on your last math test," Dad said and drained his glass. "You can't be in a play, be a big football star, and make A's all at the same time, Jack?"

I'd hung my head. "I'll do better, sir."

"You'll do better than better," Dad threw the shot glass at the wall, and it shattered. "Clean that up, boy."

I'd gotten the dustpan and brush. When I stooped down to scoop up the pieces into the pan, his foot moved to kick me. I think he was aiming for my ribs, but when I moved to try to dodge, his leather dress shoe connected with my eye.

Before I'd gone to theater tech today, he'd pinned me against the wall and growled in my ear that my black eye was a "football injury." If he heard otherwise, he'd ensure Lilly ended up with two broken arms instead of one.

My sister had heard the threat. We didn't talk about it in the car on the way here. I wasn't sure Dad would break her other arm, but I wasn't willing to test that theory. There were worse things he could do, like when he gave Maddy an uneven pageboy haircut.

He told her teachers at school that she'd done it to herself. Of course, they believed him and ignored Maddy's story about Daddy's scissors. Maddy didn't have dinner for a week after Dad found out she'd tried to tell the truth.

"Hey, long face," Carson threw a half-deflated football at my head.

I caught the ball easily. Carson looked at me sheepishly. I threw the ball back at him, and he caught it with his string bean arms.

"What's with the football?" I asked.

"Found it," Carson put his headphones around his neck. "In all this junk. Wanna play?"

I frowned at Carson. "You want to play football?"

"Yeah, man," Carson said. "I'm bored, and we've already established there is nothing else in this junk pile that we can use."

I threw it back at him, and he caught it. Carson stood and ran down the hallway. I moved to receive the ball as it sailed back towards me.

Carson ran further down the hall, and I tossed the ball again. It flew through the air, and then Carson caught it. I ran back into the main theater past Carson. He pitched the ball to me, and I lunged to catch it.

"Yo Carson, go long!" I shouted.

Carson ran through the set and past Juan and Shayna, who were working on a tree. He stopped near the pained set where Rita and Jules worked on the forest backdrop. I let the ball soar over the stage towards Carson.

The moment the ball left my hands, I realized it was a bad throw. The ball spiraled a bit too much, and Carson dove for it. He missed and knocked into Rita, spilling green paint all over her.

Juan caught the ball instead. Shayna's jaw dropped. Paint dripped off Rita, spilling onto the stage. Carson's face turned beet red.

"I-I am so sorry, Rita," he stammered.

"Could have been worse," Rita shook some of the paint off her hands, letting it drip on the stage.

Shayna glared at Carson and then at me. "Weren't you two supposed to be in the prop room?"

"We were," I said.

Shayna's disapproving glare didn't subside. "So, a football?"

"We got distracted," I said, averting my eyes.

Samantha walked over. "We can see that."

"It's just paint," Rita said. "It didn't hurt anything. I guess all's well that ends well."

Novah stepped forward. "There's a shower backstage you can clean up in."

"I'll find something in the costume room for you to wear," Jules said.

Jules and Novah led Rita to the back. Juan set the football down next to the paper tree. He was glaring daggers at me worse than Shayna.

Carson sighed. "So, there you have it, Jack. I can't join the football team. I suck. Satisfied?"

I smiled. "You just need practice."

Uncle Anton walked onto the stage, with Hugh looking annoyed. There were shadows under his eyes, and he frowned at us. Lilly and Kai ducked out of the lighting booth.

"Why does Rita look like Elphaba?" Uncle Anton asked.

Uncle Anton was making Wicked references. This wasn't good, but Samantha stepped forward before I could open my mouth to explain.

"Football boy here," Samantha jabbed a finger at me. "Thought Headphones," she jabbed her finger at Carson. "Could catch a football."

"Don't be rude," Shayna snapped.

Juan cleared his throat. "She's right, though."

"And Carson can't catch anything other than tunes," Samantha said. "And his band can't even sing anyway. They just wail."

Carson's back stiffened. "Hey! We shred."

I had to do something. "He tried his best."

Samantha rolled her eyes. "And that wasn't enough."

"Be nice," Shayna said.

"Babe..." Juan held her hand.

Uncle Anton was wringing his hands in frustration. "Tech day, and I can't even leave the room for half an hour."

I messed up. My uncle was stressed, and we weren't even rehearsing. This time, there wasn't anyone to blame except me.

"Sorry, Uncle Anton," I said.

My uncle hung his head. He was stressed out beyond all reason these days. His sister was dying in the hospital. The play was hanging by a thread, and here I was, making it worse.

"Where did you get that shiner, Garrison?" Juan let go of Shayna's hand. "Some prop fall on you?"

I made my response as casual as I could. "Football."

Uncle Anton's eyes grew wide as he took in my glorious black eye. A million emotions must have whirled through his head, but he was an actor, so no rage, pain, or grief showed on his face.

"Jack..." Uncle Anton's voice held a note of warning.

"You got that in football practice?" Shayna demanded.

I knew that they were looking at the blue and purple bruising. The edges were already green and yellow. I'd seen it in the mirror myself this morning. Even if I'd borrowed makeup like Lilly suggested, there wasn't a good way to hide it. I'd worn a hat when I first came in and completely avoided my uncle.

"Correct my knowledge of football," Hugh adjusted his glasses. "But I thought there were helmets."

"That's right," Samantha said in her know-it-all tone. "But you can still get a concussion wearing a helmet."

Glancing down at the ground, I hoped nothing showed on my face. I wasn't quite as good of a liar as my uncle. Riding my emotions was easier, especially if I used them to fuel my acting.

"You got a black eye wearing a helmet?" Juan moved closer to me. "You're a liar. Did you bump that eye on your big mirror, getting up to gaze at yourself, Garrison?"

"You don't know anything about my life, Perez," I said.

"Lay off, Juan," Carson spoke up, but I gave him a 'drop it' glare.

Carson couldn't defend me. Juan knew we were old friends. Only I could defend myself.

Juan wasn't done. "Your family's loaded. I bet you wake up in the morning, your mommy kisses you, and your daddy pats you and calls you his special boy. You even dream about yourself and how perfect your life is."

I didn't care how picture-perfect he thought my life was. It didn't give him the right to pass judgment on me. His ability to write me off as perfect got under my skin, though.

"Why do you even care?" I asked. "Why would I hurt myself to get attention?"

Glancing at my sister, I saw her face was deathly pale. We both knew exactly where my black eye came from and telling the truth wouldn't make this better.

"Stop it. Jack..." Lilly stammered.

Juan looked at my sister as if she were a stain on a spotless rug. "Can it, Lilly."

Blood boiled in my ears. "Don't talk to my sister like that."

"Where'd you really get the shiner, Garrison?" Juan asked. "Is this another play for Shayna to get her to feel sorry for you?" He moved to mimic me. "'Oh, it's just football. I'm Garrison, number thirty-five, the quarterback. That means I'm cool.'" Fury filled his face. "You're so full of shi-"

I lunged before he could finish and tackled him. "Shut up! You don't know anything, Perez!"

Juan landed a punch at my ribs as we rolled on the ground. My hand pressed into his jaw, and I tried to push him off me. His knee socked me in the stomach as his fist pounded into the other side of my face.

I heard my sister screaming. "Stop it. Jack!"

I was becoming him. A monster of rage and fury. I tried to push Juan off me to end this. Shayna was shouting something, and I couldn't make it out. Maybe she was egging on Juan.

Lilly's screams were blood-curdling, echoing in my ears. Juan's face was a mixture of gore and rage. He socked me in the stomach, and I doubled over to defend myself.

"STOP IT!" Lilly begged.

For a moment there, it all went red, and it wasn't Juan pounding me but my dad. I was just a scared little boy crushed into the ground for the past six years. The stupid boy who still cleaned up shattered shot glasses.

I couldn't be there to cover my sister's eyes. She was watching this. Blood dripped down my face, blinding me.

Two sets of hands pulled me backward away from Juan as I swung one last punch. And just like that, it all was over. Something wet trickled down my face, and Juan's blood saturated my shirt.

There was no one else to blame. This was my fault. I had swung first. Now, I was the monster.

A note about this chapter: Jack is in a very dangerous situation with his father. If you find yourself in a similar situation, remember you are not alone, and you are worth it. Please seek immediate help and resources to leave your situation.