arson stood rigidly between Charles and Radnor. He was straight and tall, though at fourteen still not the height of his father. His chest rose and fell with each hard breath as he squared away his shoulders in preparation of protecting Radnor. 

     At their age, they should be bigger, but their father's neglect kept their growth stunted, making Radnor even smaller and weaker than Garson. Garson knew if their father hit his brother again with the rage of his current mindset, Radnor wouldn't survive. 

     "You like puttin' yerself before me, boy," Charles jeered. 

     He wiped his mouth of the spit that foamed during his rages. His short black hair unkempt and shaggy like a madman gave him the appearance of some wild rabid creature.

     "That demon inside ye likes it, don't it," Charles mumbled as he removed his belt from his old brown trousers. "I'll give it what it wants until its thirst for yer blood has been appeased."

     "That's really why you do it, isn't it, Father?" Garson accused snidely. He tried to shake off Radnor's hands gripping him in a plea to keep silent. "You blame this eye so you can beat me because you like it. 

     It's the same when you beat mother and Radnor. Radnor is the perfect son you told mother to give you after I was born, but you beat him, anyway. He's healthy and strong, even though you want us weak. He's smart and kind. The people of this province love him. Their sons are his friends. Their fathers have befriended you because of him, giving you free labor and food when you ask. None of that matters to you. You're just an evil old man who likes beating women and children." 

     Radnor pulled Garson toward the window so they could escape, but Garson pushed him away. 

     "Keep talkin', ye li’l bastard," Charles snarled. He rolled up the belt around his hand and slammed it into the glass of the cupboard. "I'll show ye that demon when I pull it from yer eye. Then I'll beat ye to death right along with it. Send ye both to hell where ye belong." 

     Garson threw a chair to stop Charles from walking forward. He knew his words were only provoking his father's temper, but he wasn't going to be his victim any longer. 

     "No one speaks of your sins because they're afraid of you," Garson continued as he shoved the table between them. 

     He knew his father would hurt him worse than ever, but he would have his say before it happened. 

     "You can pull a demon from my eye, but only after I pull your demon from your head," Garson threatened, his voice calm but more dangerous with every word. "You're a liar and a fraud. I don't think there really is something wrong with your mind. I think you want people to believe you're crazy so they take pity on you after you hurt us." 

     Garson gave an intolerant laugh. "Pity on you but not us, who you beat and burn and starve. Pity on you but not Mother, who you rape every night saying you want a better child. 

     If it's a child you're after, why do it to her when she's on her monthly time? Why make her cry? You don't have to do it that way to make her pregnant, but it makes you happy. 

     Maybe I have a demon in this eye, maybe I don't. I know damn well you have a demon in you. 

     Maybe it isn't in you. Maybe it is you. Is that it, Father? You're the demon? I think so. And if you're a demon, it will take a demon to stop you for good. Like the demon in this eye." 

     Charles had stared as his son's brazen retaliation. He was seeing everything in gray as his fury rose. When his son spoke his threat, he couldn't stop a loud, sardonic laugh. 

     "Ye think yer gonna stop me?" Charles asked with a mocking sneer. 

     Just as Charles threw the table aside, they heard a scream from the doorway. The three looked over to see Molly standing just inside with a bouquet of her purple flowers held over her chest. 

     "Charles! What are you doing?" she shrieked. 

     She started to run to Garson and Radnor to protect them, but Charles reached her first. He hit her hard with his fist and sent her to the floor, the flowers scattering around her. 

     "Mother!" yelled Radnor as he started to run to her. 

     Garson grabbed Radnor and held him as he watched their father draw a long knife from the strap on his leg. 

     All three watched in fear as he turned toward Garson. 

     "Char-Charles," Molly muttered weakly through the blood and swollen jaw. 

     Garson and Radnor watched her spit a tooth from her mouth, and Garson glared at Charles with a new rage. 

     "Ye want this?" Charles told Garson with a challenging tone. "Ye want a piece of me? Yeah, well, ye'll get it when I'm dead. I'm cuttin' that eye out like I shoulda done the night ye were born. I shoulda cut that heart out, too, but that whore of a mother protected ye." 

     They watched again as he turned to face Molly. She struggled to stand and hold herself steady against a chair. 

     "That's why ye protected him," Charles continued with a step toward her. "Yer the devil's whore and he's the devil's bastard. Father Michael told me what to do to rid that boy of the demon. I'll cut out that eye and burn it. Send it to hell. Then I'll free his soul from his corrupted flesh. I'll free the lot o' ya!" 

     He growled as he looked around at them. 

     "You won't touch my sons anymore," Molly said in a strained voice.

     Blood poured from her mouth, but she did nothing to wipe it away. She was more interested in protecting her children. 

     "Ye think ye'll protect 'em? From me?" Charles snickered. "Yer a li’l church mouse can't even carry a pail o' water without one o' these bastards t' help ye. 

     I'll take a bit o' pity on ye, Molly. Ye don't deserve it for whorin' around with whatever sired these demons, but just to show ye I'm not entirely without compassion, I'll kill ye first so ye don't have to watch 'em die." 

     Molly began to cry as he stomped toward her with the knife held high. She forced herself to back away on weak legs. She knew the only way she could save her children was to get help, and she couldn't do that if she were dead. 

     As Charles reached her, Garson cried out and jumped between them. The knife meant for his mother came down across Garson's forehead, just missing his blind eye. 

     "Garson!" screamed Molly. 

     "Run, Mother!" he said as he shoved Charles away. 

     Molly hurried out to get help as Garson lifted a chair. When Charles started to swing at him with the knife, Garson slung the chair at him. The knife went flying, sending Radnor into a corner to avoid being struck. 

     Charles raised his fist to hit Garson, but Garson was fast. He'd always been fast and strong, but he'd never been brave enough to fight back. This time, he swung his fist and hit Charles so hard beneath the chin, his father fell back with a solid thud. 

     Garson and Radnor stared at Charles for some time in wait for him to get up. He only laid still and unmoving.