"Can I just talk with my brother, please?" I asked, frustated that he wasn't letting me talk with my own brother. His crual humorless laugh came from the other end of the phone call, making the hair from the back of my head raise. "Why should I? You left him here. Alone. With no protection." I shut my eyes tightly, calming my nerves and irritation at the evil that I called father. I hate him and I will always hate him for everything that he did to me and my brother since my mother died. "Don't act like you care. Now, let me talk to him!" I said; my voice was filled with anger. Something that I only show to the people that destroy my life. This man was one of those people. There was silence. Why is there silence? I thought. "Let me talk with my brother or I'll tall all about you and your business to the police." I threaten him.

My father had been a drunk and drog addicted since my mother died. He bought and sould all the drog that was running around in the streets, in our hometown. I was ten back then and my brother was four. There was a lot of difference between our ages so I always had, as a personal mission, safe him from every blow, slap or kick that my father threw at us. I always took the bitting. I couldn't get my little brother get hurt. He was only four when everything started. What was I suppose to do? Let him die at my father's hands? No way. I wasn't letting that happen. If someone would to die, that would be me. I'm the older sister. I'm the one who dies first, not the other way around.

Suddenly, I heard wrustling from the other end of the phone.

"Olivia?" Came my little brother's voice. I could tell he was scared, but I was reliefed to know that he was still alive.

"Sean. I'm so happy to hear your voice. Is everything OK? Has he been hitting you lately?" I asked him, my voice immediately filled with concern and guilty. The concern part was obvious. He was my brother, I couldn't stop worrying about him. The part of the guilty was harder to explain. I was the one who came up with the idea of running away from our father's house. We couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't take it anymore. I had planned everything out with Sean, but at the least minute, Sean decided that it would be better if he stayed behind. He said that it would be bettter if I got seattled down in a new house and got enough money to make the both of us survive so then he could run away and come to live with me, where he was safe from that hell. That's way he stayed behind. That's way he was still in that house, taking bitting after bitting from our excuse of a father. I was twenty years old when I run away and now I'm twenty-four, so that's makes my brother a eighteen-year-old teenager.

"I'm good. Things have been pretty calm lately. How are you?" He said; his voice was fragile. I could hear that clearly. My heart was hurting.

"I've been good. I got a few jobs and I've been getting enough money." I said; a small smile playing on my lips as I looked down at my lap. I'm currently at home, sitting down on my bed, reading a book. That's how I pass my free time, because other than that I would probably be out on the streets running. "Soon enough, you'll be able to come and live with me." I whispered so only him would hear, just in case my father was standing next to the phone. "That's good. I'm really happy for you." Sean said and I could just imagine the smile in his face. I haven't seen him in a long time and I was missing him like crazy. For me - if I didn't know what he was doing - I would say we were having a conversation for crazy people, but for anyone standing outside of our conversation this would seem like a normal conversation.

"Sean, I promise, I will get y-" I started, but I immediately stopped has I heard more wrustling from the other side of the call. "Sean?"

"The conversation is over, doll." My father said; his tone was arsh and I cold sensation overcame my body as I heard his pet name for me. When the bittings had started he made sure that he had a pet name for me and my brother. I hated it then and I hate it now. That's not going to change. "Don't call me that, you mother f-" I stopped myself before I could finish the sentence. I didn't want to anger him or he would take it out on Sean. I couldn't have that happening. I heard his cruel laugh and put my free hand into a fist, preventing myself from saying anything more. "Thought so. Too afraid that I'll so something to your brother? Well... Don't worry, I'll take care of him." Before I could even answer, he hang up the phone.

I groaned in frustation in anger. I grabbed my hair with my hands and tried to pull all the hair out. I am, clearly, going crazy with all of this. I can't take it anymore. I need to do something soon or the next phone call I get will be from my excuse of a father telling me that my brother was dead. I couldn't just lose the only thing that was keeping me alive. I couldn't let the only person that was prenventing me from killing myself die by the hands of the man that had made our lives a living hell. I couldn't let that happen and I wouldn't.

I didn't find three jobs for nothing. I didn't work my ass up so that the man that turned our lives into a hell would just ruin it with a flick of his hands. I wouldn't and I couldn't let that happen. I need to do something and soon, because my anger for that man is building in inside of me and soon enough it will be like I was just possessed by millions of demons. Soon enough it will be like the demons inside of me are turning my body into something more evil than the devil itself. I couldn't and I wouldn't let my brother die. He was my brother and my mission was to protect him at every cost.

And that's what I was going to do.