Irvin's POV
I stepped through the front door and found Mom standing in the kitchen, a fresh bruise darkening her arm.
Nothing unusual here. I should be numb to this by now.
This nightmare has haunted me since childhood. Yet somehow, witnessing it never gets easier. Something savage always awakens inside me.
I crave violence, yearn to throw punches until my knuckles bleed raw. I'll never grow accustomed to this hell, and that familiar fury ignites within me—a flame fed by years of watching my mother and brother suffer.
My eyes swept the room, landing on my older brother sprawled across the couch, pupils dilated and vacant from whatever poison he'd consumed today.
I moved closer to Mom, studying her face, silently begging her to reveal the truth. She never does, always shielding that monster.
"What happened, Mom?" My voice came out strained, barely leashed.
She forced a brittle smile, attempting to minimize the damage as usual. "Nothing, baby. I'm fine."
