Stutter

He lunged at her. Ophelia didn't remember what she had done, but as his fist connected with her jaw she felt blood start to pool in her mouth. Tears began forming in her eyes as she tried to scramble away. But he was there, and he was bigger, and the blows landed on her body like bullets. She closed her eyes against the pain, begging whatever deity lay above to end it soon, or at least allow one of the punches to knock her unconscious.

All at once it stopped. “D-dON’T fuh-CKING t-t-touch her!” He stood there. Her brother, her knight, her savior. His arms spread in front of her crouched and battered body, standing up to the man they were forced to call father.

Then came his voice, cold and hateful. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“D-don’t fuh-KING t-t-touch h-h-hER.” The stutter in his speech was uncontrollable and his body was riddled with ticks and twitches, but still he stood there.

“What the FUCK did I say about stuttering? I’ll beat the fucking stutter out of you, boy.” With one swift movement he had grabbed his son by the hair and threw him to the ground. Kicks connected with the teen boys stomach but he still stayed quiet, his eyes on his father and his face defiant. Ophelia cried out. This was not fair, this was HER punishment, but she dared not fight it. Russ smiled at her, his teeth stained with blood that was beginning to pour down his jaw. It was a ghastly sight to most, but it calmed Ophelia. He was doing this for her. She had best allow him.

The abuse seemed to last forever. Each kick seemed to make a loud bang against Ophelia’s young ears. Each blow resonated in her small body as she sat, crouched against the wall, completely helpless. Although she had witnessed this a billion times before with every one of her siblings, it never got easier, especially when she knew she was supposed to be the one under her fathers boot. Finally he stopped kicking and looked down on the young boy with disdain, spitting onto his face. “Don’t you ever talk to me with a stutter again, you understand me boy?”

Russ gargled out a reply, which was all he could do at the moment. Seemingly satisfied, their father ascended the stairs and slammed the door. The click of the lock told Ophelia that she was not going to eat tonight, but she was not concerned with that right now. Only with her brother.

Within moments she was on his side, softly rolling him over to spit out the blood threatening to choke him. The shock of his treatment had warned off and tears began to form in her eyes. She could think of nothing to say that could help, and when she opened her mouth the only word that spilled out with the tears was “Why?”

“B-b-beCAUSE I l-love you, l-l-littLE L-l-lIA.” He smiled that same, bloody smile he had earlier, when he was still being kicked and screamed at by the monster upstairs. “Wuh-WHAT kind of bruh-bruh-broTHER would I b-be if I l-l-let you gET h-h-huRT?” She rushed to the water spout in the wall, grabbing a dingy rag from beside the washer and soaking it before tending to her older brothers wounds. There was nothing more that could be said. She dutifully cleaned the wounds on his face with soft, practiced motions. Her skill matched those of children in war zones, but the battle field was her own home. He lay there, still smiling up at her. Looking at her was more painful then any wound he would have to face. In moments like this, it was them against the world.

Ophelia sat back with a sigh, still observing the open cuts on his face. He slowly propped himself up on his elbows, wincing at the pain in both his head and his abdomen. God, he hoped he didn’t break his ribs again. Their parents wouldn’t chance a hospital visit. “S-so, l-l-lOOKS l-l-like w-we are g-g-gUNNa b-b-be d-d-down h-h-hERE  for a-w-while, h-UH?” He let out a small, shaky laugh, still keeping that smile plastered on his face in a small attempt to comfort the nearly hysterical girl.

“Yeah.” She states, staring at the ground with a distant, glassy look in her eyes. Her small hands clutched her elbows on either side of her body as she sat in front of him on the dirty basement floor. Russ continued willing his pained body to move, sitting up with a groan. He paused for a moment, allowing his muscles to scream out in protest before slowly sliding himself to be next to Ophelia, throwing and arm around her slumped shoulders and pulling her against his side and giving her shoulder a few gentle rub. He hummed softly, songs that they had heard on the radio or learned as children, trying to will his uncontrollable body to stop twitching so he could better put her, and himself, as ease.

Slowly she began to relax. Tear tracks stained her face and bruises decorated her body, but her brother was here. And he was humming. And he was alive.

“D-don’t you wuh-WORRY, L-l-little L-lIA. One duh-DAY we’ll get o-o-OUT of th-thIS place. Tuh-tuh-togethER.”