This chapter is dedicated to TheWriterD who reminded me with her story "Behind My Reputation" that there are always two sides to every question. Over these past few weeks, I have showed my readers the kind of monster Brent is, now I want to tell you how he turned into the abuser.

My Friend Bobby  

 I crawl into the dark closet and slam the door shut, my small body shivering with fear. Bobby is with me, he is always there – my only trusted friend in the whole wide world. I press him tightly against my stomach and my thumb automatically pushes its way between my lips. I suck hard – that's better.

"Don't worry, Bobby, he won't hurt you. I won't allow it," I mumble in between small sobs. My face is streaked with tears and I pull up my knees, making sure Bobby doesn't get smushed too much. My cheek comes to rest on my thighs and I stare into the darkness.

'Please don't let him come after me. I can't handle it anymore.' It's just words in my mind not directed at anyone in particular though my mom always tells me that we should pray to God in heaven. Sometimes I do but at the moment, I am undecided. If God was up there watching over me, why doesn't he stop him? Why does he allow him to hurt me so much?

The angry voices are getting louder and I face my next dilemma. I want to block them out, cup my hands over my ears to muffle the scream that is sure to follow. But if I do that, I will have to let go of Bobby's paw and take my thumb out of my mouth. These things are comforting to me but just as so many times before, I will have to choose the lesser evil.

Before I can make up my mind, the shriek after the slap freezes my blood. My hands fly over my ears and I begin to hum as the swooshing of the belt begins to break through the silence that followed my mother's piercing cry.

'Please make it stop,' I beg. I don't want to hear her agony - I don't want to hear my father's furious words calling her whore and a worthless idiot.

I rock back and forth, still humming, the tears dripping down my chin. I count to twenty in my mind before I stop and start again. That's how far I am able to but my teacher promised that next year, we will learn how to count to one hundred. I am looking forward to that – it will be a nice distraction.

At some point I stop to check if the coast is clear. All is quiet now and I peek out of the closet, halfway expecting my father to sit in the chair across the room with the belt in his hand, waiting for me to come out. Today, I'm lucky – there is no sign of him. I must not have done something to earn his disapproval though most of the times, that doesn't matter. When he is in one of his moods, even the smallest of things gets him going.

 I crawl out on my hands and knees, Bobby tightly tucked into the crook of my elbow. I get all the way to the landing and glare downstairs. The reception area is empty, my mom is probably in the kitchen. I can't hear my dad. If I come down too earlier and he catches me, I will get a beating. He told me a hundred times to stay in my room when he argues with mom.

The silence is nerve raking and I am really worried. Two weeks ago, he hit her so hard that she had to go to the emergency room but it took a couple of hours before he called the ambulance. He claimed she was just overreacting. That scared me. I am afraid that one day, my mom won't wake up again. I would be all alone with him and that thought is the most terrifying.

I decide to go for it and silently make it down the steps. Bobby's ears are tickling my nose and I have to suppress a sneeze. I move so fast that I might even be invisible like those superheroes in the comics. That's my goal in life – I want to become one of them. I could save my mom. We could live somewhere else, far away from my dad. No one would hurt us anymore.

The kitchen door is wide open and I hear a soft moaning. I dive behind the kitchen counter and peek around the corner but my mom is alone. Her face is covered in blood and the belt marks are all over her back and legs. He made her undress again like he usually does. The sound when the belt hits against her skin is horrible but he seems to like it. As least that's what I think – he always smiles when he whacks her.

I lean Bobby against the side of the counter and squat down next to my mom. I stroke her shoulder and her eyes fly open but she relaxes when she realizes it is just me.

"Brent, honey, could you get me a wet towel?"

I spring into action and soak one of the kitchen towels in cold water by standing on my tiptoes on the stool next to the sink. I squeeze as hard as I can but some of the excess still drops onto the kitchen floor. This will need to be dried off before my father gets back or there will be trouble. He hates messes of any kind and water drops on the tiles drive him nuts.

I help my mom clean off her face and she manages to sit up. I bring her another big towel from the bathroom so she can cover her naked body because I know she must feel embarrassed.

"Can you get me something cold to drink, honey?" she asks and I run over to the cabinet to fetch a glass. I open the fridge – apple juice, water, lemonade. The latter is my mom's favorite so I add ice to the glass and fill it up to the rim. When I turn around, I stare right into my father's eyes. The glass escapes my fingers and finds its way to the ground. I feel the lemonade splattering over my bare feet and against my legs.

There is pressing silence after that. My father just glares at me and I am frozen. I don't know if I am breathing but my heart races in my chest and the blood pulses through my ear. I swallow hard - this will be so bad.

"What are you doing down here, Brent?" he asks. "I thought I told you to go to your room."

"You did, sir," I mutter, desperately trying not to pee in my pants. Another mess and he will totally lose it.

"Then why did you disobey me?"

I chew my lip, trying to come up with an excuse. Not following my father's orders is subject to severe discipline – no exceptions. I will be lucky if he sticks with the belt. My eyes fall on Bobby.

"It was his idea," I claim, pointing at my teddy.

There is slight amusement in my father's eyes. "Are you seriously telling me that Bobby made you come downstairs?"

I nod vigorously, it is every man for himself. "Yes. He was really thirsty and wanted lemonade."

"I see." My dad takes a step forward and I automatically cower as he towers over me. "I guess it is Bobby then who deserves to be punished."

I am having second thoughts which I push out of my mind in a hurry. Better him than me.

He unloops his belt and offers it to me. "Why don't you do it?"

I stare at him, my lip trembling. Bobby is my friend, I can't punish him. The belt looks menacing in my father's hand.

"Please, Ryan, he is only four," my mother intervenes. "Don't..."

"Quiet." My father's voice echoes in the kitchen and is laced with danger. His eyes burn dark with anger – I know it too well. One more word and he will have a go at both of us.

My eyes wander to Bobby who is leaning against the counter with a stupid grin. He is mocking me – that's what it is. My father is right, he needs to be punished. He has been bad.

I grab the belt and approach him, my hands trembling. I bite my lip hard and taste blood in my mouth. I am terrified. Bobby will be so hurt and probably never forgive me. I will be all alone in this house without any friend.

"Pick him up and lay him on the table," my father demands.

Tears roll down my cheeks and my hand clutches my mouth. I don't want to do this but have no choice. It is either Bobby or me. I bend down and grab the same paw I held while we were hiding in the closet. I feel like a traitor, selling out my best friend.

I lay him on his stomach and get ready to hurt him.

"Turn him around," my father orders. "I want you to look him in the eyes when you punish him."

I can barely see my surroundings through my tears but Bobby's eyes somehow make it through, stabbing me right into my heart. They gaze at me reproachfully.

"How many whacks do you think he deserves?"

"Twenty." It's the only number that comes to mind.

"Ok, then get started."

I raise my arm but can't get myself to do it. I am getting sick to my stomach and am afraid I am going to throw up. My mom is silently sobbing and I glance at my dad who is watching me intently.

"Do it Brent or I will do it for you. But just so we are clear - if I have to punish your teddy, I will beat you as soon as I'm done."

His words give me the determination to continue. I don't want to feel the belt today.

I whack Bobby, first softly but when my father scolds me for behaving like a sissy, I hit harder. My teddy gives up after the twelfth blow, busting open at his stomach. My dad makes me continue and when I am finally finished, Bobby is ripped to pieces. It's a horrible sight.

I break down on my knees and sob, unable to gaze into my teddy's accusing eyes. He took a beating for something I did.

"He is ruined, Brent," my father says through my gloom. "Toss him in the bin."

I howl in pain, I am going to lose Bobby completely.

My eyes are begging. "Can't you or mom fix him?"

He tilts his head to the side. "No. He is a bad influence on you and I don't want him living with us anymore."

My whole body is shaking with despair when I force myself to get back up on my feet. My hand reaches out for Bobby and I hesitate, having a brilliant idea how to save him.

"Please daddy, if I tell you the truth, can you please fix him."

He considers me calmly. "What truth, Brent?"

My face is burning but I have to rescue Bobby and it is the only way.

"I lied." My words are no more than a low whisper. "It was me who wanted to come downstairs. Bobby didn't do anything wrong."

My father crosses his arms in front of his chest, his lips pursed. "So are you admitting to not only disobeying me but to lie on top of that?"

I realize that I just got myself in a boat load of trouble but it is too late now. I nod under tears.

"Say you were a bad boy, Brent."

"I was bad, daddy," I cry.

"Do you deserve to be punished?"

I nod repeatedly, unable to speak through my sobs.

"OK." He runs his fingers through his short hair. "Take off your pants and bend over the kitchen table."

He grabs the belt off the counter and carries Bobby over to the sink, opening the bin in the cabinet. Without hesitation, he dumps the teddy's remains into the garbage. I recoil in horror, Bobby's demise is on my hands.

I learn to count to thirty that day and he whacks me until I get it right. When I sleep on my stomach that night, I am all alone after losing my only friend and the hurt cutting into my soul is ten times worse than my physical pain. There is no one left in the world who will again comfort me through my tears.

Thanks for reading. One thing I want to point out to those readers who may not have read "Living With The Choices We Make' or don't remember - Ryan Parks, Brent's dad, is a profiler for the FBI with a degree in psychology. This makes the mental terror he put his son through very deliberate and cruel. 

I hope you like this story as much as Rena's and would really like to hear from you. I would appreciate any comment and would be thrilled if you could vote with the little star button in the corner.