Her hands shook as they tightened the scarf around her neck, maybe a little too tight. She hardly adjusted it, just moved her hair out of the way.

Her gloves were pulled on, then taken off, only to be distracted by the empty coat lying on the piano bench, one glove still on her hand while one lay abandoned on the floor. She hastily picked it up and placed between her teeth, sliding her coat over her shoulders and buttoning it up. After one last moment of indecisiveness, she rolled the glove back on her hand and stretched her fingers. There was a hole right where the index was.

The room was disheveled. It was never clean, but Travis didn't like it when she left it without at least one inch of floor showing, so she hurriedly pushed aside some canvases that had been knocked over in Angus' forced departure, making the room suitable to enter. Making Travis less angry with her in case he should check on her, in case she should be caught sneaking out. Travis had warned her about it after her umpteenth visit from her childhood friends, the troublemakers.

She unlocked the door for the first time in hours since Angus left. She could still here the yelling from him and Travis right outside her door, and she was afraid to open it, as if they'd still be there. If she was honest with herself, she didn't know which one she'd rather run into.

Angus was only trying to help her. She knew that. But she couldn't drag him into something that wasn't his problem, no matter how much he made it be. He deserved to be happy, with Sherrie in their apartment and not have to worry about how unlucky she was to be dealt with two abusive family members, and end up living with both of them. Huh, it must run in the genes.

Before she could get a steady grip on the doorknob, she noticed a hat hanging from a lamp. It wasn't hers, she hadn't owned any hat like that since school. This particular hat had been smuggling cookies and attacked by birds, and who knew what else before it had come to her possession. Taking it would be ironic; didn't she want Angus to stay away from her?

No. She asked him, but only for his own good.

She took the hat from the lamp and placed it on her head, adjusting it just so.

Opening the door took great patience, some she never would have had an hour ago. It didn't creak when she pulled it, and it didn't slam when she closed it behind her. She heard some loud talking from the living room, along with some less than cheerful dialogue. Creeping down the hallway it grew louder, and Hannah instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, making sure her coat sleeves didn't roll up like her sweater. They had been getting bigger lately, and she worried about something like that happening. Unfortunately it had been pushed to the back of her mind, and Angus saw them. He knew.

He didn't know the full story, but he knew enough to want to cause Travis some form of bodily harm. While Hannah wasn't completely adverse to the idea, she knew he wouldn't hesitate to call the police in retaliation, and Angus had committed more than enough crimes to be given a small price to pay. If Travis had his way, Hannah would be in trouble just as much.

Stopping in the bathroom to have a look in the mirror, making sure her eyes weren't as red as they felt, she grabbed a few spare tissues and placed them in her pocket. The living room came into view. There Travis was, sitting on the couch with his back facing her, the phone in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. Hannah knew that piece of paper well; it came home with him every night, or was sitting on the counter on his days off. Nothing he put money on in the market was doing well, and he was losing more than he could afford. Along with losing his money, he was losing his temper, as well as what little sanity he had left from calling the banks to make sure the numbers were correct. They always were.

And he was never very happy about it.

This day was a bad one in particular. Perhaps Angus' visit and almost acted upon anger had put him in a sour mood. Perhaps it was getting caught that made him nervous; everyone always believed that Hannah simply got cold often, and needed something to keep her warm. Familial love was something warm that Travis was not acquainted with, nor would he offer it to her. Little did he know that cigar burns weren't the kind of warmth anyone deserved.

Hannah paused at the entrance to the living room, hoping, praying Travis wouldn't turn around. "I've placed it on them for five years and still no change. That doesn't brighten my mood, Jim..." Walking through the front door would easily catch his attention, and Jim would quickly be left talking to a dial tone. The window in the bathroom didn't open, as Travis couldn't stand bugs flying into his showers. Hannah was the one who fixed it for him, without so much as a thank you.

The only other window away from Travis' vicinity was the one in his bedroom. Hannah didn't know if it could open, she had never bothered to try. She hated to be in that room, detested ever setting foot in it. The one bed in the house, only allowed for him, unless he had too much to drink of the alcohol he kept hidden in the nightstand. Recently he had been one bottle short, and questioned Hannah when he noticed the broken glass shards in his trash can.

She got two new burns that day.

He rarely drank, said the alcohol gave him a blistering headache that Advil couldn't get rid of. But he had no trouble having a few wines with his friends during their little "meetings" while Hannah was left to nurse her tea. Only her tea, helping with loosening the threads on her sweaters. The alcohol in the nightstand was for special occasions, and Hannah shuddered at the last time he deemed a night "special".

She pushed open his bedroom door and shivered. It was cold and empty, save for the amount of furniture he had, the little luxuries Hannah never had the pleasure of obtaining in her room. It was much too expensive to buy a second set, and the invitation was always open to share the room, especially on those cold winter nights.

The sun couldn't come fast enough.

The Beatles song had worked its way into her head, and she hardly noticed herself singing it when she reached into her pocket and pulled out a screw driver, taking it to the window. It appeared to have a screen when it opened, held together by four tight screws. Hannah counted her lucky stars that the flat-head she carried would work, and that she was mediocre at tampering with windows.

With a few turns in the wrong direction, and many hasty ones in the right, she pulled each screw out and removed the screen from the frame. The screwdriver was placed on the bed while Hannah looked below. Nothing there to injure or bar her, and she grabbed the screen, pulling it in place after she climbed out.

Her shoes hit the muddy grass of the backyard under her. The screen was lopsided when she checked it, but it would have to do. One wrong move and it could fall out of her reach, or crash into something and alert the man on the phone. Here comes the sun...

Slipping on the mud she walked around the house out of the backyard, and out to the front making sure to stay out of sight of the living room windows. Once a few meters away, she made a run for it.

She had no clue where she was going. Maybe she could head to the police station and report the abuse, and stay at the church while things got sorted out. Travis would be taken to jail, and then she could find her own place to stay, never having to worry about sharing her money ever again. Rather than paying for someone else, she could finally pay for herself, and have some leftover.

She could find Angus and Malcolm and maybe they'd let her stay for a few days. When she got her own house they'd come visit on tours, neither one without a smile on their faces. Her and Angus could...

What could they do? What could they do that wouldn't upset the woman he was already with, the one he had feelings for?

What was that he said while he was arguing with Travis? His voice had been slightly muffled through the wood...

The sun grew shyer and shyer as the minutes ticked on, and a few more clouds added themselves to the collection in the sky. As comfortable as Angus' hat was, it was no umbrella.

Maybe she could go to the bookstore and hide out there for a few hours. Sure she brought no money with her, but the owners never seemed to mind her coming and reading every once in a while. She was stubborn on putting every book back where she found it, and remembering her manners as she came and went. Something her friends would have lost patience for if they were still kids. The idea was tempting until Hannah remembered.

The bookstore was closed one day of the week.

Maybe she could get something to eat with the money she didn't bring, with the money she didn't have. The money Travis always took to satisfy his need for gambling, money he never won back. As loud as her stomach rumbled, Hannah passed on the idea of food.

There wasn't any water running when she came to the fountain in the park. It was too cold, too late in the day. She walked toward it anyway and looked in the still water. The coin she and Angus made a wish on blended in with all the surrounding coins, making it impossible to distinguish. She never got around to asking him what he wished for, and she was too embarrassed to ever tell her secret. There was no Angus to ask or tell anyway, no coins to throw in, no wishes to be made.

There were no ducks to scare away either.

Here comes the sun...

Hannah could have sworn she heard her name being called from the other side of the fountain. She turned her head and saw someone she didn't recognize walk towards her, both hands in the pockets of his coat. She then realized it was Malcolm, who had found himself a new pair of sunglasses to wear on such a cloudy day. "What are you doin' here?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same thing," she said. Sitting down next to her and adjusting his sunglasses he recounted his morning.

"I uh-needed a little break from sittin' in a hotel, ya' know? Need to stretch what little leg I have, yeah?"

"It's hardly sunny out."

"Oh, yeah." He pushed the sunglasses further on his nose so they sat almost uncomfortably. "I uh-" He cleared his throat. "Small headache, that's all."

"You take something for it?"

"Nah, I'll be fine." He looked at her as she stared at her hands folded in her lap. "Well hey, what have you been doin'?" She didn't look at him let alone answer. "Come on, I haven't seen ya' for a while, how's my friend doin' these days? You and Travis gettin' along?"

"If it's all the same with you, Mal..." she said, shutting her eyes as tight as she could. "I'd rather not talk about him right now." Malcolm nodded.

"Alright, alright. He hasn't done anything, has he? Yelled at you again, given you one of these?" he asked showing his palm no longer bandaged but with a yellow scratch instead. Hannah turned away from it.

"No, nothing like that." Nothing like that, not even close.

"Good," Malcolm said. "Sorry I asked, we'll drop it."

It was quiet between them. Hannah didn't like abandoning conversation with her friend, but he hadn't yet known what Travis was capable of, and too much talking could end up in spilling something she didn't mean to. She brought up something else. "I uh, got my writing submitted the other day," she said.

"Writing...oh, the-did ya'?" he asked. "That's good, they like it enough to keep ya'?"

"They must have, I've been asked to write again next week." Malcolm smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"That's great! You tell Ang yet?" Hannah didn't have time to answer. "He'd be real proud of ya', I am too. It pay enough? Get your own place, get your own food..." Malcolm realized where his words were headed. "Oh, sorry, I'll drop it."

"I-I haven't told him yet," Hannah admitted. Her new job had been the last thing on either of their minds that morning.

"Why not?"

"I-I...I haven't seen him," Hannah lied. "I haven't seen him today, he must have been with Sherrie."

"Sherrie..." Malcolm mumbled. He stared at the grass beneath his feet. "He's been spendin' a bit of time with her lately, maybe to make up for all the time he's with you." Hannah pretended to laugh.

"Maybe."

"I can tell him if you want-"

"No! No, that's okay." Malcolm nodded again and moved his glasses again as well.

"It's your news to tell, I'll let you tell it." A sharp pain hit him in the chest, and he couldn't tell if he imagined it or not. It went away as quickly as it had come. "Just-let's not make the same mistake we made...nine years ago..." Hannah gave him a sad smile.

"Deal," she said. A heavy wind picked up and Hannah held one hand to Angus' hat and the other to her chest, holding her coat. It was much warmer than her bathrobe, though the coat hadn't been tried in two in the morning weather. Malcolm didn't know about that either. Maybe he didn't need to.

She rested her head against his shoulder, careful not to knock away his sunglasses or make his headache worse. Concern cornered her, he had been having a few recently, according to Angus. Malcolm put a hand to his head and sighed. "Fuck..." he mumbled.

"What's wrong?" He didn't answer. His hangover was late, but not wimping out on giving him a big one. Where this addiction of his sprouted from he would have a hell of a time figuring out, and he didn't quite feel like it at the moment.

"Just a headache, the same one I told you about," he said.

"You've been having a few of those," Hannah said, watching him massage his temple.

"Oh really, I hadn't noticed." Hannah sighed and didn't respond. Malcolm sighed as well. "Hey, I'm sorry. This one just happens to be pretty rough." He inhaled through his teeth. "An' gettin' worse."

"You should have taken something!" Hannah said, looking at him with worry. "Have you thought about seeing a doctor?"

"Like I need a doctor to tell me my head's killin' me? You know how we feel about those." He and Angus weren't exactly up to speed with their medical histories and that ignorance was bliss to them. "I'm fine, darlin'," Malcolm muttered after a while. "It-might as well tell you the truth, or at least some of it." Malcolm felt around his pocket for a cigarette to tell his story with and gave up when he came out empty. "I may have been picking up more than a few bottles recently. It's nothin' I can't handle," he lied, attempting to assure his friend. "But I admit it's taken a toll on my head."

"You have a hangover?" Hannah asked, figuring it out. Malcolm looked at her, or so she thought as his sunglasses were still on his face. "Oh, Malcolm!"

"Hey, it ain't nothin' I haven't been through before, it ain't nothin' I can't handle," he said. "I'll be alright, it ain't too bad. You'll see. Once we get back home I'll be right back on my feet, you'll see." Hannah wondered if she really would see. Had the 'we' included her? "You'll see."

"Have you told Angus?" she asked. Malcolm shifted in his spot.

"You think I ought to?"

"Of course you ought to, he's your brother!"

"That ain't our faults," he said. "Look, we both got our news to tell him, we'll tell him when we're ready, yeah?"

"This is exactly the kind of mess we got into nine years ago."

"I know, that's why we promised not to make that mistake. God knows he's probably got some news to tell us too, maybe he's taken up drinkin' himself, maybe he's gettin' married, maybe he's found someone else, who knows?" Now it was Hannah's turn to shift in her seat, and pull down her sleeves. "We all got our secrets, there's always somethin' about someone else that you don't know about, ya' know? There's the right time to tell what it is, an' then there's every other time. This might not be the right time, eh?"

"I guess so," Hannah said, loosening her scarf. Had it gotten warmer out? "Was it the right time to tell me?"

Malcolm mulled it over. "I suppose so. Guess you got the truth outta me, huh?"

"Guess it's easier to tell a friend than a sibling sometimes, isn't it?" Hannah played with the tassels on her scarf. Malcolm brought her face up to look at him.

"Well, I don't know about you. But I happen to think you very much as a sister of my own," he said seriously. Hannah stared at his eyes when he lifted his sunglasses over his head, the sudden light making him squint. "If you want to know the truth."

Instantly her arms were around his neck, almost knocking him into the fountain in surprise. Without a second thought he returned the hug, taking his sunglasses off and resting his head on her shoulder. After years of growing up and being the only child, she finally had someone to call her family, one who wouldn't hurt her. She didn't dare lift her head from the crook of his neck, afraid that he'd see her small tears. But these ones were not filled with sorrow or pain, these ones were filled with love for her brother, something she hadn't ever had the chance to feel. She let them fall, even if in secret. After all, we all have secrets.

And I say, it's all right...

The mud on her shoes dried by the time she reached the grass on her own lawn again. Evening had come and it was difficult to see where she was stepping. She was suddenly glad they didn't own a dog.

She reached the backyard and found Travis' window exactly like she left it. Except, when she went to remove the screen, it didn't budge.

It had been screwed back into place.

Hannah reached into her pocket for her screwdriver, the same one she had placed on Travis' bed and didn't pick up. The screws were on the inside anyway, she was stuck outside.

Here comes the sun...

"Fancy seeing you out here...thought you were inside crying over that mongrel I threw out," a voice in the twilight said. Hannah turned around and saw a tall figure hardly dressed for a nightly winter, a small orange glow in his fingers.

Not again...

"Travis..."

"Might I ask where you have been on such a night?" he asked stepping closer to her. She instinctively walked backward, not once averting her eyes. "It's late, it's cold. After locking yourself in your room I knocked on your door with the intention of inviting you to join me at the table for dinner. When you didn't answer, I ate by myself, and made for my own room." His voice grew more and more quiet. "Would you happen to know anything about a screwdriver?"

"Screwdriver?" Hannah asked.

"Yes. A screwdriver," Travis hissed. "Surely you're not so stupid that you don't know what a screwdriver is."

Hannah crossed her arms. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She whimpered when Travis' hand linked itself around her arm, pulling her around the house at rough speeds. Reaching the front door he opened it, and threw Hannah ahead of him inside. It slammed behind them, Hannah quickly getting off the floor. He pushed her toward the hallway both of them ending up in his room. "You say this screwdriver flew into my bedroom, and took the screen off my window?" When she didn't answer he grabbed the front of her coat. "Do you?"

"My window doesn't open," she said, trying her best to keep her heart rate under control.

"So you break out of mine?"

"I wanted some fresh air."

"Fresh air," Travis said blowing cigar smoke from his lips into her face. "Fresh air, is that all?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact."

If Hannah was expecting anything it wasn't the slap to her face. One large hand left a sting on her cheek, and she lifted her own smaller hand up to it, wincing at the touch."I suppose Angus wasn't with you, was he? After you practically threw him out of the house."

"That was you-"

"Don't think I didn't hear what happened before. You yelled at him more than I did" Hannah didn't answer due to the guilt choking her. "Was Angus with you or not?"

"No!"

Another slap. "You can't expect me to believe you just left for fun, you met someone!"

"No, I-"

"Maybe I ought to have called the police as soon as I saw Angus down this hall. He wouldn't have had the gut to leave you by yourself, I'd have had him." Hannah closed her eyes and willed herself not to cry. Not now. "It can't be too late, nor too hard to find the great Angus Young in this world..."

"I was just talking to Malcolm!" she cried, hating herself for giving in. Having the police called on Angus though was something she could avoid, and would. Anything to keep him out of trouble that wasn't his. Travis narrowed his eyes. "I-I was by myself, he just showed up."

"You talked to Malcolm..."

"Is there a problem with that? He's my friend." Hannah thought it over for a second. "He's my brother."

"Those boys are no more your brothers than I am your little buddy who gets to let you go off and do whatever you want." Grabbing her arm and rolling her sleeve up he pressed his cigar into her flesh, leaving a burning mark. She couldn't scream. She couldn't yell. Pain never brought out any vocal reaction from her of the sort, and Travis had mixed feelings about it. Her defiance to show any reaction bothered him, but it kept anyone listening out of suspicion.

It felt like forever until he finally released her, Hannah grabbing her arm with the other hand. Travis stared at her, throwing the cigar in the waste basket on top of the pieces of glass still in there. He hadn't forgotten about those. "They treat me better than you've ever treated me," she winced.

Travis shrugged. "Maybe so, maybe so. What did you talk about?"

"That's-none of your...business..."

"It's my job to make it my business. I don't like you talking to those boys, your mother was right. They're absolute trouble. Now what did you tell Malcolm?"

"I didn't tell him anything!" Hannah grit her teeth as Travis grabbed her arm, pressing his thumb into her fresh burn. Even the slightest truth Travis would dismiss.

"You were gone for hours, you can't possibly have told that coward nothing!"

The insult cut her deep. Thinking Travis would hurt Malcolm for talking to her, she didn't want to give him up. There was nothing to give up. Knowing he might hurt him anyway to get an answer out of him, Hannah spoke up. "We just talked-" She lightly gasped at the pressure. "-I hadn't seen him in a while, we just caught up!"

She closed her eyes as she hit the wall behind her, Travis glaring down from his tall stature. Her arm stung, but the pain lessened when he let her go. "Malcolm..." The name dripped off his tongue like it was poison to utter it. "Malcolm. He the one that likes to drink?" Hannah refused to answer. Travis searched the ceiling, nodding his head. "Hmm. He ought to watch out. That could be his downfall one day."

"You hurt him and the police won't care about anything he or Angus have done. You want to lose this house?"

"You tell on me and I'm not the only one losing this house," he whispered, leaning his face close to hers. "At least I'll have a place to stay. You're on your own." With that, he left her side and only stopped at the doorway to tell her the extra food he made at dinner had been thrown away. When he was gone, Hannah stole out of his room and found her own, closing and locking the door to keep him out.

Her scarf was taken off and her gloves thrown into the mess. Rolling up her sleeve made her sick. Both of arms were covered in Travis' anger and now the right one had a fresh one, still burning into her pale skin. It looked awful. Hannah rolled her sleeve back down, grateful at least one of her friends knew nothing about it. But he was sure to find out soon.

She took off Angus' hat and held it against her. It was still warm from her head, and still in better shape than her gloves. She traced it with her finger, silently praying to herself that what she said was enough to keep Travis from doing anything to hurt him, to hurt Malcolm. But who knew with that man. She was glad to take another burn for her friends, it would heal in time.

Still, with the way she felt now, she felt awful for telling Angus to leave.

But he would come back. He promised.

And that made her nervous, but happy all the same.

Here comes the sun and I say, it's all right...