The knocking turned into banging. The banging turned into screaming and kicking. My heart was pounding in my chest. I was certain this was what fear felt like. I was afraid. So was my father. He was practically trembling. 

"Dad, open the door before he breaks it down."

My father didn't move. He simply stood there, staring at the door. 

I shook my head at him and walked over towards the door before pulling it open. My eyes met those of Francis' who had his fist raised in the air, about to give the door another smack - he froze, however, when he saw me.

Red.

"Where's that scumbag?" he demanded, pushing me aside and stepping into the room. "There you are."

I rushed over to him and pulled him back by his shirt to keep him away from my father. He was a heavy man and towered over my father by a whole foot. He had a reputation of beating people up when they wouldn't give him what he wanted or when they wronged him. In this case, my father had wronged him by sleeping with his girlfriend.

"Let go of me, punk!" he insisted. "Your old man here slept with his dead wife's sister! MY girlfriend!"

My grip on his shirt weakened at the mention of my deceased mother. Not because I was sad but because I was taken aback. Whenever the people around me approached the topic of death, they always did it with caution. When I was younger and we went to my grandfather's funeral, I asked why he was laying in a glass box all funny-looking. My father smacked the back of my head and told me to stop being so straightforward. Later that night, he taught me all I needed to know about loss and grief. He told me specifically that it was something you approach with the utmost caution. Until this day, I'd never heard someone speak so bluntly about my mother's passing. 

Francis lunged at my father and I jumped in between the two of them, taking the smack in place of him. My head snapped to the side at the impact and I stumbled a few steps backwards, holding my cheek as a sharp flood of pain travelled from my cheek all the way down to my feet, making my legs tremble. I held onto the arm of the couch behind me to support myself. 

"You just hit my fucking son!" my dad exclaimed, the sight of another man hitting his son suddenly giving him enough energy to move from his previous position so he could tackle Francis to the ground. I rushed over to my father and pulled him away from Francis. 

"STOP!" I screamed, with my hands over my ears. 

I wasn't too good with noise. 

I pulled my hands away from my ears after a moment, still trembling all over, "Stop."

"Andre, you're lucky your son's here," Francis began, wiping some blood off his lips. "If he wasn't, I would've shot you dead right here."

"You're not legally allowed to own a gun here unless you've been a part of the military though," I informed him, recalling a piece of text I'd read online regarding my district. Francis gave me a peculiar look before letting out a sarcastic laugh, "This is the autistic kid of yours?"

I felt little under his gaze for some reason. Like the world was closing in on me. It had been years since I'd seen Francis but he hadn't aged a day since I left. 

"Since you're old enough now," he began, turning to face me completely. He had to crouch to meet my gaze. "Tell your pops over here to stop pouncing on everything that breathes."

"Please leave," I requested, feeling overwhelmed. The room was beginning to spin again. "Before I call the cops on you."

He let out a forced laugh, averting his gaze from me to my father and back to me again. "Like father like son, aye?"

No. This was false. I have autism and my father does not. He is not like me and I am nothing like him.

"You know you should look at someone in the eyes while they're talking to you."

"Stop messing with my kid."

"Stop messing with my girlfriend."

My dad was silent at this. 

"Juju or whatever your name is-"

"Juno."

"Whatever. Do you realize this kid is going to be your cousin and your sibling at the same time?" Francis spat with a look of disgust. 

He was right. This child would be my cousin and my sibling all at once. 

He didn't say anything. He just turned around and left, slamming the door shut behind him. The noise made me jump.

This was my first time coming back home in six years and this is how it goes.