Grant hesitated to go in his house as he sat in his torn up couch-like cushion of a seat inside his car. His relationship with his parents wasn’t the best and he tried to spend as much time away from them as possible. The clock in his car struck midnight. His parents would still be up for another hour, at least.

He had to do it before they went to bed. If he were to wake them up, he might end up dead. His father had a gun hidden away under their bed. Their mental state changed after that incident happened. Being seen as an intruder in his home was something he tried to avoid. Grant always made it a priority to tell them when he would be home to avoid instilling fear.

He inserted the key and unlocked the door. The door creaked as he slowly opened the side door that led to the kitchen.

“I’m home,” Grant said as soon as the door moved forward.

“Why the hell are you home right now?” His mother asked.

“Uh, well, turns out I wasn’t on the schedule for tonight… So I worked a bit to give them a head start and left.”

There was no response. Just the sound of laughter coming from the television. Grant sighed. He passed through the kitchen with dishes laying around the counter by the sink. A chef’s knife lied atop the stack of dirty plates. Why couldn’t they just place the dishes in the sink? But Grant already knew the answer to that.

All cleaning, all chores, everything was placed on Grant. If they left the dishes in the sink, he may not have noticed that there were dishes to be done. He didn’t even get a taste of whatever they ate earlier either. Not that this was his parents fault.

Hiding away in restaurants was Grant’s usual plan for dinner. Sure, his parents weren’t evil enough to not feed him, but they would hark on every fiber of his being. Criticizing him, mocking him, in a few instances, even threats would occur.

He was twenty years old, although his parents treated him like a kid. Actually, his parents treated him more like a prisoner than a member of their family. One they were forced to feed. Maybe some would prefer prison to this.

The staircase creaked as he climbed each step. What could he bring without making a ruckus alerting his parents that he was leaving? Not that he had much to bring anyway. He entered his room and glanced corner to corner. He might even be stuck in his car for a few days after leaving. He didn’t know when he would actually be welcome to stay in Lyros. WIshing Jack could make the plans work out in the next day or two was all he could hope for.

Not much had changed in his room since he was a child. He still had the same blankets, bed, dresser, and bookshelf. The only thing that really changed was the clothing he wore.

The drawing he carved into his closet door when he was only nine still remained, a character smiling, looking forward to a new adventure. Grant’s body slugged to the floor, his knees pressing against the cold, hard wood. He drew his fingers over the slightly indented wall and traced it.

Elijah also had a similar carving in his room, though Grant never dared bring himself to enter his room. He didn’t feel it was right. What right did he have barging into his brother’s room after everything that happened? Not only that, but entering the room would cause him too much pain.

The brothers each created their own characters and would pretend to be them. Running around the neighborhood, the house, and even with the local kids. In the country of Nhaja, children often played together, pretending to cast spells and catch monsters.

That was partly due to a popular comic that had swept its way around the country, perhaps even the world. Bloodline Beasts. It wasn’t created for children, but the cute designs of the mascot monsters made it hard to keep out of children’s hands.

Elijah was obsessed with a monster called Shuraek. The beast had the appearance of a purple shark with blue horns. Using its fins it could walk on land, as well as swim in the ocean. Grant remembered when they would go on trips, he always had to bring his stuffed Shuraek everywhere. He couldn’t sleep without it.

More than anything, Grant wanted to read through Bloodline Beasts with him once more. The series was nearing its end and Elijah would have loved where the story was now.

Grant smiled remembering the time Elijah chased a stray cat around claiming it as his beast. Times were much simpler then.

Grant couldn’t believe how much his parents had changed. As drastic as a human turning into a beast. He didn’t even like his parents anymore. In fact, he despised them.

He grabbed his childhood camping bag from his closet. Only a few items would be able to fit in it. He scanned the room, creating a mental list of what was most important to him.

If he remembered right, according to Jack, the last residents who lived in the trailer left all their furniture, among other things. Was this deal too good to be true? There must have been something else wrong with it. Having it out in the middle of nowhere though, this was probably the easiest way it would sell. But it was only 2,000 ramas? With all the furniture? Grant couldn’t grasp it.

He reached under his mattress and felt around. He squandered up his hidden money that he had been postponing his rent with, twenty paper bills thick, 2,000 ramas. He placed the wad of money into the side pocket of the bag.

If he combined that with his paycheck of around 1,200 he got this week, he would have a bit of spending money left over for the necessities the past owners didn’t leave.

Grant pulled on his closet door and slid it out to the side. Emptying out the inside, he tossed all his clothing onto the floor. He scattered through it, picking out all the clothes that still fit him. There wasn’t much. Four shirts and Three pairs of pants. Each of them having a unique rip or tear to them. He folded them neat enough to fit them all in the bag.

Every time he thought about going out to buy new clothes he found himself in a situation where he had a reason to use it on something else. Either his parents guilted him into giving them more money, or he used it on entertainment.

Grant pulled open the top drawer of his dresser. Socks and underwear filled the top layer and underneath were stacks of comics. These were the comics he read with Elijah. Homemade drawings and notes filled the pages; his most valuable comics. He collected every single volume. The ones hidden within his dresser, he owned duplicates of, scribble-free, of course.

He rummaged through the dresser, digging his way down and pulled them out. His hands held the frayed books that had started to fade on the covers as his hasty movements caused socks and underwear to topple to the floor.

They fit in on the floor among the other articles of clothing that scattered in splotches like abstract art. He picked out socks and underwear and tossed them into the bag as well.

Grant spent most of his time in his room when he was home, but he paid no mind to how dirty his room got. He used that as an excuse as the only way he could rebel against his parents that wouldn’t result in punishment.

As much as he hated working, he would actually rather be there. Henry’s lectures and shouting were nothing compared to his parents' methods.

There was one final item he needed to bring. It laid atop his dresser, framed in scratched oak. A photo. He grabbed it and placed it gently at the top of the bag.

A deep sigh of satisfaction exited his mouth. He took a final look at his room, and the colorful childhood clothing painted across the floor.

He stepped lightly down the stairs hoping not to alert either of his parents on his escape. A shadow warned him of a presence within a footstep away. The faded gray shadow grew bigger and turned to solid black.

“Grant! You haven’t paid us rent yet or washed the dishes! What do you think you have been doing?!”

“Give me a break. I just got home.” He didn’t usually respond with such an attitude, but he wanted to make sure there was no way he could come back. He knew he deserved more than this life and wanted to make sure that before more doubts came to his mind that he would not be welcome to return.

“Honey, get a load of this shit,” His mother shouted and faced towards the living room. “Grant hasn’t paid rent yet this month and thinks it is okay to relax! Get to the dishes and get to work! You’re lucky you have such caring parents as us who even let you stay here with how you treat us!”

Grant looked down and walked over to the counter and placed the bag on the table. The shrill voice of his mother immediately flooded Grant with doubt about himself, but he had made up his mind already. He turned back around to retrieve his bag and found his mother opening up all the pockets.

“Oh, here is the rent money! Honey, Grant was hiding it from us!” She flipped her fingers through the bills.

Grant’s parents charged him 2,000 ramas a month to live in his prison. Close to the amount he made each month.

He lost hope for so long. He even gave up and believed all the lies they fed him for a while. He believed this was the place he belonged. This was his punishment. Escaping would only be cheating on his punishment.

From the living room, stomping shook the floor, getting closer and closer. His father came in and snatched the bag from his mother with a look of fury.

“You think you could hide this from us?!” He pushed Grant against the dirty countertop. “Do you have any idea how much you owe us for allowing you to stay here after you let your brother get stolen from us?! Even worse, Elijah is probably dead because of you!”

How many times had this been drilled into Grant’s mind. There wasn’t a single week where they didn’t use this phrase against him. Ever since it happened when he was twelve years old. The torment of being told you are the reason for everything bad in you and your parents life for eight straight years would destroy any human. Grant could have escaped his home long ago, but he believed all his punishments were justified.

The man who caused him all this pain. Grant only wished he could find him. He would end him.

That was it. Everything within Grant’s worried mind cleared up as if a helicopter was clearing away fog as it took off. A spark of thought grew, creating a storm of anger within his head.

His instincts grabbed the knife that laid upon the soiled plates and rushed forward. His father jumped back, eyes in terror.

Grant got a hold of himself and steadied the knife back to his side, pointing it out. He didn’t want to kill him, just make them pay for the broken life they put upon him. He reached around and grabbed a metal ladle from the drawer within a flash, while pointing and jabbing the knife forward in small strokes. In a swift motion, he bashed his father’s skull with the ladle. Grant kneed him in the region that would hurt him the most and managed to snag the money back and grabbed his bag as his father was left on the ground.

“You piece of shit! Get out! You are never allowed back here!” His mother shrieked as she checked on his father.

“Good. I won’t ever be back.”

The door crashed open against the plastic siding of the house causing it to rattle as he dashed out. His keys rustled as he scrambled through his pockets and ripped them out.

His mother was standing outside the door watching, like a demon cursing him a life of hell. The trees shook about as the wind grew for a gust, expelling her disgust. Grant stared back as his expression slightly turned into a smile, a smile in the face of a devil. She couldn’t have him anymore.