“It’s about goddamn time. Where the hell have you been?â€? Joe had heard his mother pose this question to his father a hundred times. It never ended well.

“Shut your pie-hole woman. It’s none your fuckin’ business.â€? Joe’s father had a hard time speaking clearly through the drunk. The stench was so strong it walked down the hall, seeping into the boys’ bedroom. “Now get out of my way. I’m goin’ to bed.â€?

“What’s going on?â€? Timmy’s whisper again.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep and stay quiet.â€? Joe tried to sound reassuring. It was one of the many things he failed at.

“You leave them boys alone. They’re sleepin’.â€? Susan called out to the boys’ father as he approached their bedroom door. Joe lied as still as he could, praying for sleep to end the nightmare.

“Daddy?â€?

“Hey buddy.â€? The stench of alcohol in the room increased with each word.

“Damn it Harold. Get out of there.â€? Susan grabbed his arm trying to pull him back through the doorway. Harold turned, curled a fist, and slammed it between her nose and left eye.