~One year later~

Your POV

"You have more bruises." Tyler inspects my arms, a look of concern spread across his face. As usual, he had come to walk me home from school.

I try to pull a confused face and say, "Must've ran into something."

It's not the first time I've lied to him about the bruises. Thank God he can't see my back.

"You've been telling me that for about a year now."

"Maybe because it's true," I snap back. I turn on my heel, about to march off to a hiding place where even Tyler would never find me, but he grabs my wrist and yanks me back.

I whimper in fear and prepare for the back of his hand to smack my face, or for his knee to slam into my stomach, but it doesn't happen.

I open my eyes, which I only just realised were shut, and see him look down at me, his eyes hungry for answers.

"I just want to help you."

I shake my head. "I don't need help with anything."

He nods and releases his grip. "Come on, I've got to get you home."

I knew there was no arguing with him, so I walk beside him in the direction of our street.

His hand softly taps my shoulder, and I watch has he bolts ahead of me. Grinning, I chase after him, hand outstretched.

I eventually catch up and tap his back.

The walk continues like this. He tips me, then I tip him.

We reach my house and as we walk up the steps, I hear a bottle smash. I look at Tyler behind me, who doesn't seem to have heard anything.

I knew my dad was drunk. And I knew what was going to happen to me if I walked in alone.

Randomly, I shout, "Tyler!" in hopes that my dad would hear me and know I have company.

"What did I do?" He replies, confused.

I turn around and pretend to act shocked. "Oh, you're still there. I thought you must've ran off. Guess I was just imagining things."

He gives me a strange look but I shrug it off and open the front door.

My dad stands in the living room, bottle in hand. I walk in, Tyler close behind me, and I watch Dad's face as it turns sour.

I quickly look away and rush up the stairs. "Race you to my room." I try to act happy and cheerful as I always did, as if nothing was wrong.

~Time skip~

"Bye, Tyler!" I wave to my best friend as he crosses the street. I shut the door and turn around to run back up to my room.

But there he stands, casting a shadow over me, big and tall and angry like a monster.

"I've told you how I feel about that little brat coming here," his voice booms, making me quiver.

"Sorry," I squeak. My cheek stings as his large hand connects with it.

"Don't you dare think you're going to get any sympathy!" He shouts in my face.

I whimper as his hands move to his belt buckle. He unbuckles it and slides the belt off his waist.

Then, a sickening crack of leather on skin echoes through the house, followed by a searing pain in my leg and my screams.

Tyler's POV

I hear the scream. Shivers run down my spine. My blood runs cold.

I know where it came from. I know who it came from.

I turn to my parents, mouth agape.

"T-that... that was Y/N."

The colour from my mother's face drains and my dad rises from his seat.

I stand too, only to be told to sit back down.

"But I have to go-"

"No, Tyler," my dad sternly replies. "You stay here."

The door slams and I imapatiently wait for him to return and calmly tell me that she's fine, that she just stubbed her toe or was watching a scary movie.

But that's not the news I got.

After thirty minutes of me pacing my room and quietly singing to distract myself from all the scenarios playing in my head, the front door opens and closes.

The commotion from the living room made me feel sick.

"Oh, goodness! What happened?" Mum cries.

I quickly rush out of my room to see my mum ushering my siblings out of the room, my dad running to the kitchen and Y/N lying on the couch, her face scrunched up in pain and her body covered in red marks.

I run towards her and grab her hand, mumbling words of comfort and even singing to her.

Dad runs back into the living room, followed by my mother, antiseptic, cotton balls and bandages in hand.

"Tyler, can you help your mother turn her over."

I nod and the two of us carefully lift her up and turn her over.

Her t-shirt has patches of blood around it and tears, revealing gashes in her back.

The towel, which I think was once white, Dad had her laying on is now red.

Dad slowly lifts the back of her shirt, revealing more bruises and scrapes.

"All this from a belt?" My mum asks, in horror.

"Please, not in front of Tyler," Dad snaps through gritted teeth as he dabs the antiseptic covered cotton balls in some of the less bloody areas.

"Can one of you get a wet cloth?" He asks. Mum, knowing that there's no way of me leaving Y/N, hurries off and comes back with a dripping tea-towel.

She softly cleans the blood from the large gashes so Dad can put some antiseptic on them.

"Stand her up, please," he orders us. We nod and gently lift her off the couch, standing her on her feet. We hold onto her steadily as Dad wraps the bandage around her waist.

"That should do until the doctor's get here," he sighs as he picks her up. "Is it okay if she takes your bed?" He asks me. I nod and follow him to my room, where he lays Y/N down on my bed.

I sit beside her until the doctor comes and asks me to leave the room. I wait in the living room with Mum until Dad comes out with the doctor.

"I should be able to come back and take the stitches out in about a week," he says to my parents.

"What's happening with her father?" Mum looks at the doctor, desperate for answers.

"He's been taken into custody. I don't know what's going to happen to him yet, but I know he can no longer take care of the girl. An officer should give you more details in the morning."

The room goes silent.

All I want right now are answers. What happened to Y/N? Why has her dad been arrested? If she can't stay with him anymore, where will she stay?

I do have an idea of what's happened, and everything fits in with it, but I just refuse to believe.

It's when the doctor leaves that my dad explains everything.

I feel like throwing up. Just as I had feared, it was her dad who did this to her. He was drunk and angry, and...

I block out the last thought. I don't want to think of Mr L/N raising his hand, belt held tightly, and swinging it back down on Y/N. I don't want to think of her watering eyes as the belt buckle tore the skin on her back. I don't want to think of her screams, like the one I heard before Dad saved her, and whimpers of fear and pain.

I push all my thoughts and all my emotions to the back of my head and grab a spare blanket and pillow. I place the pillow and blanket on the floor by my bed, where Y/N sleeps. It's uncomfortable and smelly, but there's no way I'm staying so far away from Y/N. She's my best friend, my sister even, and I need to be here if she needs me.