My Muted Mate. *editing*

Chapter One.

Chapter One.

I put my father's dinner in front of him and he quickly dug into it like a pig after a 'long day' at the office. I looked at my mother who had a cigarette in one hand and a wine glass with vodka and soda in the other. She didn't eat much, mostly just alcohol so I know I'll end up having to put her dinner in the microwave for her to eat when she wakes up in the middle of the night. I heard my dad coughing and my head snapped to him, worried. He cleared his throat, grabbed his glass of wine, and took a few sips. He then shoved the plate off the table.

Huh? I thought stunned.

The plate smashed into a million pieces and I cringed at the sound. I hurried toward it to clean it up but my dad got up and I instinctively cowered away from him. He stalked over to me and grabbed my face, pressing his fingers roughly into my cheeks and tilt my back to make me look up at him.

"It was too spicy. After you pick it up, I want you to make me another one without that much spice. You understand?" he asked as his dark soulless eyes bored into mine.

I nodded quickly, "Yes, daddy."

He roughly shoved me letting go of my face, "Good."

I quickly bent down and cleaned up his mess as fast as I could. If I didn't hurry, he'd get mad and I'd get smacked. I shuddered at the thought and cleaned faster. After cleaning up the mess, I went into the kitchen, threw away pieces of the broken plate, and dumped the rest of the mess in the sink. I hurried and made my dad another steak. Within five minutes, it was finished. I placed it in front of him and he took a bite. He didn't spit it out or push the plate away, so I knew it was fine.

A cry from the kitchen started. "Go shut him up." my dad ordered and I nodded.

I dashed into the kitchen and picked up my nine month old brother Tyler from the high chair. I placed him on my hip and bounced him as I made him a bottle of his milk. I'm just happy he's grown out of needing formula and I can give him regular milk now. Formula took too long to make.

I gave him the bottle and he held it by himself. He sucked it down and closed his pale green eyes. I kissed his forehead and ruffled his pale blond hair. I bounced him a few more times and started to hum a lullaby. He liked the soothing sound of it. You can say I'm more like his mother than our actual mother is. She doesn't take care of him, I do. I change him, bathe him, feed him, dress him, get up in the middle of the night to rock him back to sleep, and do everything else. All she did was carry and give birth to him.

But I don't care, I would do anything for Tyler. I won't let him get hurt like I do. I have this motherly instinct to take a hit for him. It's more than what our mom does for us. She doesn't care if my dad hits us. But I do. Tyler's a baby, he doesn't know when to cry or not, what's right or wrong, or what's going on. All he knows is to cry at the moment. So when dad gets angry towards him, I turn his anger to me by doing whatever draws his attention from Tyler.

Tyler laid his head down on my shoulder. He must be getting tired. I walked up the stairs and put him in his crib. He wasn't fully asleep yet, but he still lay down. I pulled the blankets over him and the bottle dropped from his hands as he passed out. I smiled down at him and stroked his pale cheeks. I tip-toed over to the door and turned off the light. I closed the door behind me and walked back down stairs. I started on the dishes and when I got half way done, my father came out with his plate.

"Get to bed when you're done. You have school tomorrow," he said. I didn't need to be reminded. I realized I didn't answer back and before I could, he gripped the back of my hair and pulled my head back. "Do you understand?" he asked, putting a tight grip on my hair.