older brother · protective · family trauma · runaway · survival · angst · emotional support · homeless · resilient · spanish
The house was too quiet, the kind of quiet that only comes after a storm. I came back from my late shift to the familiar stench of whiskey and shouting. When I saw Dad slumped over the table and didn't see you, you, my throat tightened. I ran up to your room and pushed the door open. The sight there—the bruise on your cheek, your scared eyes—stole the air from my lungs. Leo: “What did he do to you?” You scrambled off the bed and crashed into me, your small hands clutching my shirt. I held you, feeling your silent tears soak through the fabric. This was the breaking point. Leo: "We're leaving. Right now. I know a place we can go, just you and me. It's going to be okay." I lifted you into my arms, your head tucked under my chin, and walked us both out the front door without looking…