I remember the day our lives changed forever. It was a hot summer afternoon, and the air was thick with tension. My younger sister, Lily, and I sat in our small living room, trying to escape the heat. The old fan in the corner barely provided any relief. We were just kids then, but we knew something was wrong. Father had been drinking more than usual, and his temper had grown shorter by the day.

I am Alex, the eldest of two children. At twelve, I was already used to stepping in between my father and the world. Lily, only eight, was still innocent. She still believed that good things happened to good people, that our father was a good man. I knew better.

That day, Father came home earlier than expected. His face was red, and his eyes were wild. He stormed into the house, yelling about something that had happened at work. Mother was nowhere to be seen, probably hiding in the bedroom, hoping to avoid his wrath. I felt a knot form in my stomach as I stood up, ready to protect Lily.

"Alex, take Lily to your room," Father barked. I could hear the slur in his voice. He was drunk again.

I nodded and took Lily's hand. We hurried to our shared room, but I knew it wouldn't be enough. Father's anger always found us. We sat on the bed, holding each other tightly. I could hear Father's heavy footsteps coming closer.

The door burst open, and Father stood there, his face twisted with rage. "You think you can hide from me?" he spat.

I stood up, placing myself between him and Lily. "Leave her alone," I said, my voice trembling but firm.

Father's eyes narrowed, and he took a step forward. "You think you're tough, Alex? You think you can protect her?"

He lunged at me, and I felt his fist connect with my stomach. The pain was sharp and immediate, but I didn't fall. I couldn't. I had to be strong for Lily. I took another punch, this time to my face. Blood filled my mouth, but I didn't cry out.

"Stop it, Father!" Lily screamed, but he didn't listen. He never did.

I am the villain because I took all of Father’s punches. I stood there, absorbing each blow, not because I was strong, but because I was afraid. Afraid of what he would do to Lily if I didn't. I became his punching bag, the outlet for his rage.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The abuse became a routine. Every time Father came home drunk, I would take Lily to our room and brace myself. I learned to hide the bruises, to lie to teachers and friends about where they came from. I became a master of deception.

Lily, on the other hand, remained untouched. She grew up thinking I was the bad one, the troublemaker. She saw me as the villain who always made Father angry. She didn't understand why I did it. How could she? She was too young, too innocent.

As the years passed, the gap between us widened. Lily excelled in school, made friends, and lived a relatively normal life. I, on the other hand, became more withdrawn. I struggled with my grades, got into fights, and was labeled a troublemaker. The teachers, the neighbors, even Mother, all believed I was the problem.

"You need to control your temper, Alex," Mother would say. "Why can't you be more like Lily?"

They didn't see the truth. They didn't see the bruises I hid under my clothes, the pain I carried in silence. They didn't understand that I was the villain because I took all of Father’s punches. But I didn't mind. I wanted Lily to have a chance, a life free from fear.

When I turned eighteen, I left home. I couldn't stay any longer. The anger and resentment had consumed me. I needed to escape, to find a place where I could heal. I joined the army, hoping the discipline and structure would help me find some semblance of peace.

Years went by, and I rarely returned home. I kept in touch with Lily, though. She had grown into a beautiful young woman, full of life and hope. She was everything I had hoped she would be. She had become the hero of our story, the one who survived unscathed.

One day, I received a call from Lily. Her voice was shaky, and I could tell something was wrong. "Alex, it's Father. He's dying," she said.

I felt a mix of emotions. Part of me was relieved, but another part of me felt a pang of guilt. Despite everything, he was still our father. I decided to go home, to face the demons I had left behind.

When I arrived, I found Father in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines. He looked frail and weak, a shadow of the man who had once terrorized us. Lily was by his side, holding his hand.

"Alex," she said softly, "I know you hated him, but he's still our father."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I walked over to the bed and looked at the man who had caused me so much pain. His eyes opened, and he looked at me, a flicker of recognition in his gaze.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

I didn't know what to say. Sorry didn't erase the years of abuse, the scars both physical and emotional. But I realized something in that moment. I had carried the burden of hatred for too long. It had consumed me, turned me into the villain in my own story.

Lily, on the other hand, had found a way to forgive. She had become the hero, not because she was untouched, but because she had chosen to rise above the pain. She had found a way to live, to love, despite everything.

As I stood there, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I realized that I didn't have to be the villain anymore. I could choose to let go of the anger, to find peace. I took Father's hand, and for the first time in years, I felt a sense of closure.

Father passed away that night. It was a quiet, peaceful end to a turbulent life. Lily and I stood together, united in our grief. We had survived, not because of Father, but despite him. 

As we walked out of the hospital, Lily took my hand. "You were always my hero, Alex," she said, her voice filled with emotion.

I looked at her, tears in my eyes. "No, Lily. You are the hero because I took all of Father’s punches. You showed me that we can rise above the pain, that we can choose to be better."

And in that moment, I knew it was true. We were both heroes, not because we were strong, but because we had survived. Together, we walked into the future, leaving the past behind.