As Arthur watched the home tape of his adopted daughter and her brother Cameron, memories ran through his head. Arthur’s eyes absorbed the memory that Elizabeth had of her father Fillip and her first day of school. She looked so happy as a child... Her father looked happy as well. And yet, Elizabeth and Arthur shared somewhat of a common pain. Their fathers were drunks. Yet it was different for Elizabeth.

Her father wasn’t always a drunk.

It angered him, and he wasn’t going to admit it, but he was jealous. He was jealous of Elizabeth, that for some time, she knew her father as more than a drunk. Her father, Fillip, was sober for once... Cleanly shaven, looking sharp. He spoke so soft and sweet to his children... He was an actual father, even though it was for a short while.

And knowing what Fillip had become... What he had lied so harshly about... It made him want to snap. Arthur’s father was always a drunk... He was always violent, and his mother... His mother was just that poor girl who fell for the wrong man and stayed in the relationship. Arthur’s mother was afraid of her spouse. Arthur’s mother would always try to be somewhere else. And Arthur couldn’t blame her. It just frustrated him from time to time that him and his sister had to deal with their father by themselves.

Yet, in a way it was understandable why she was gone most of the time. Arthur had a hunch she was either at their grandmother’s house or working. Considering that Arthur’s father was a drunk, he never worked, and if she was over at their grandmother’s house, it would only be because she was seeking out help. She never liked talking about it in front of the kids because it worried her that something would slip out of either Arthur or Cheryl’s mouth and her spouse would do so much worse to her two beautiful children.

The bad memories of his father started flashing through his mind like lightning in a storm.

“I dare you to talk back again! Boy you’re gonna get what’s coming to you, just you wait, you little--!” Arthur remembered that slurred, angered voice so vividly. He closed his eyes and just allowed himself to relive the memories.

“Arthur! Arthur, you get back here! I’m not finished with you, you little twit!” The harsh words sprayed out of his mouth one by one. Fifteen year old Arthur whirled around, angry tears flowing from his eyes like a waterfall.

“No! Not a chance, old man! I am sick of this!” At this age, Arthur’s voice was still bouncing between mature and immature. He was six feet tall at this young age. He was short for his age group, however. The words hit Arthur like bullets and his father’s violence only drew him closer to snapping.

“Arthur, you better get yourself back inside of this house! Same for you, Cheryl!” His slurred voice hissed as he wobbled in the doorway. Cheryl was sobbing, a dark red mark on her face. This wasn’t the first time she had been hit by her father when he went off in a drunken rage, but each time he hit her, it hurt worse. It made both the kids loose hope in their father. All faith that he would change was gone.

Arthur’s eyes filled with malice. “You lay a hand on her again, so help me Evergloom, I will kill you myself!” He felt a vein throb in his throat. Arthur was sick of seeing his sister hurt, he was sick of seeing his mother hurt, and he was sick of looking in the mirror...

Each time Arthur found himself in the mirror, nothing seemed to change in his mind. He knew he was weak, he knew he couldn’t do anything. He felt like a girl rather than a man, and he knew there was no way to change that unless he did something to fix it.

And today. Today was that day.

Arthur was taking his sister and his mother out of that horrid environment. His father could drink himself dead for all he cared. His mother and his sister were his top priorities.

That, and Jack. Oh, his little Jackie-Jay... He adored that white haired boy so. Each time he was around Jack, it made all of his worries go for a little while. Peace was brought whenever that boy was around. He’d do anything for Jack. Jack was his sweet little boyfriend. Arthur’s mother and his sister, Cheryl, found their relationship cute, but his father didn’t... Jack was so precious to Arthur; they’d been through just about everything together. They had known each other since they were little babies still in diapers.

Cheryl was keeping her head down. She wouldn’t say anything but she was afraid of Arthur turning out like her father. It worried her that there was a possibility that Arthur, someone so sweet and caring like him could turn out to be like their father...

A drunk, violent, quick-tempered jerk who was quick with a backhand. Anything you did angered him. Anything was a trigger. House wasn’t clean? You’re punished. You like the same sex? Punished. Didn’t do something exactly how he wanted? Punished. The TV wouldn’t work? Punished. You said something in a certain way? Punished. Everyday actions turned into a peaceful or harmful situation. So, the kids tried to be on their best behavior. Always doing as their father asked, always making sure the house was clean so their mother wouldn’t have to worry when she came home...

Arthur’s father was the king of his castle, alright... But a king of an empty kingdom, now. Arthur was not standing for this any more. He was tired of seeing everyone be pushed around.

Arthur felt a shaky hand grab the back of his shirt, and yank him back. The collar of Arthur’s shirt pressed hard down on the front of his neck as he was yanked back. He knew who, what, and why this happened. It was his father. He could tell by the shaky, warm, uncoordinated hand.

As Arthur was yanked back, he regained his posture and clenched his hand in a fist. He brought it up and around, and in a split second, his knuckles connected with his father’s jaw. Everything.

Froze.

This was the first time Arthur had ever made a physical effort to stand up to this cruel man. Arthur’s strings had been pulled so much they finally snapped. Arthur couldn’t even control himself. He kicked his father in the stomach, sending the drunk man backwards. He easily toppled down on the ground, and in response, Arthur turned bloodthirsty.

He would not stop.

He would not listen.

His father never did.

So why should he?

Every killing moment, every scream that ever came from his little sister, every single heartache that made him feel weak. No more. No. More. Arthur was through. He gripped his father’s neck and pinned him to the ground. Arthur yanked on his father’s messy black hair, and ripped a small patch out of his head. Arthur let out a violent hiss as he continued to beat his father to a pulp.

Arthur was beyond livid. He was shaking violently with malice and rage, his eyes turning black. It seemed like someone else took over completely. It was frightening to see this fifteen year old kid beat down on a middle age man like he was, but no one made a move to stop him.

Except for Arthur’s father.

He tried grabbing Arthur’s head to slam him to the ground, but each time, Arthur made some move to shoot down any chances his father had of fighting back. Arthur let out a sick, twisted laugh as he felt himself slowly grow satisfied of his father’s pain. His father... In pain... The simple idea of that made his mouth stitch into a smile.

Arthur delivered punch after punch into the drunken man’s face. Arthur didn’t even care if they were sloppy. “How does it feel, Dad?! How does this all feel, you sick, stupid son of a--!” Arthur screamed, and finally threw the last punch.

Arthur’s father was long knocked out. His breathing was shallow as he lay on the ground under his son, his eyes closed. For once.... He looked somewhat peaceful. Arthur... Arthur, however... He was breaking down inside. He realized what he had done. Although it was a bitter sweet thing, he knew he had saved his sister and mother from any more attacks. Arthur hoped this would be the outcome, anyway.

But that boy did not know what he just had done.

Suddenly, Arthur snapped back into it. He stared at the TV for a moment, and noted his adopted daughter’s fingers dig into his couch as she heard her soft whimpers. Letting out a soft growl, Arthur pulled off his beige steel-toe, and threw it at his television without a care.

His voice was filled with rage as he felt of tears hint at the corner of his eyes, threatening to pour out. “THIS IS BULL!” He hollered, and pushed himself free of his spot on the couch. “I’m going to bed..” He started up the stairs. Everyone around him was left in confusion.

Arthur’s dark past remained covered.