Liam lay sprawled on the thin mattress in his cramped room, the faint morning light seeping through the cracks in the worn curtains.

His breathing was steady, the only sound breaking the stillness. Then, suddenly, the door slammed open with a force that rattled the hinges.

"Wake up, you thwart!" a rough voice barked.

Liam stirred but didn't fully wake. His uncle, a burly man with a permanent scowl etched onto his face, stomped into the room and delivered a sharp kick to Liam's feet.

"Get up, boy! Go help your aunt in the kitchen," the man growled.

Groggy from only a few hours of sleep after working late into the night, Liam jolted upright.

His heart raced, his ears ringing from the sudden rush of movement and fear. He mumbled a hoarse, "Yes, Uncle," and scrambled out of bed.

As he hurried past the narrow corridor, Robbie, his cousin, stuck out a leg in an attempt to trip him.

Liam, having grown used to these petty antics, sidestepped without missing a beat, his face betraying no reaction.

"Better luck next time," Liam muttered under his breath, earning a snicker from Robbie.

The kitchen was just down the hall, cramped and cluttered like the rest of the house. The smell of frying pancakes hung heavy in the air.

His aunt, Emma, stood at the stove, her back to him. She didn't turn as he entered.

"Good morning, Aunt Emma," Liam greeted, his voice cautious.

Emma glanced over her shoulder briefly, her lips pressed into a thin line. She said nothing and returned to flipping the pancakes.

Her silence wasn't unusual, but Liam's gaze caught on the faint, purplish bruises lining her forearms.

His jaw tightened, a flare of anger igniting in his chest. He quickly swallowed it down, shaking his head as if to clear the thoughts.

Don't get involved. Just survive this. Finish school, get out, and never come back.

Steeling himself, Liam moved to the sink. He pulled on a pair of worn rubber gloves and began scrubbing the pile of dishes stacked haphazardly.

The hot water stung his hands through the thin material, but he didn't pause.

The clatter of plates and the sizzle of the frying pan filled the silence. Emma finally spoke, her tone flat and detached.

"Don't take all day. The pancakes need to be on the table in ten minutes." "Yes, Aunt Emma," Liam replied without looking up.

He focused on the plates, letting his mind drift to better things. Just a little longer, he told himself. Finish high school, save what you can, and leave this place behind.

It had been seven years since Liam's parents had died in a chemical explosion at the factory where they worked.

Seven years since he'd moved into this small, suffocating house with his mother's sister, her abusive husband, and their lazy, bullying son. Every day since had been a test of endurance.

Liam scrubbed harder, his thoughts spiraling. One day, he would be free.

One day, this nightmare would be over. But for now, he just had to survive.

As Liam finished washing the last plate, Robbie sauntered into the kitchen, a smug grin plastered across his face.

He leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossed, watching Liam work with unearned superiority.

"Don't take too long, dishwasher," Robbie sneered. "Wouldn't want you holding up the gourmet meal."

Liam didn't respond, keeping his eyes on the soapy water. He had learned long ago that reacting only encouraged Robbie.

"Oh, and don't forget," Robbie continued, his tone mocking, "Uncle Jake doesn't like his pancakes burnt. Not that you'll get any—you're just the help, after all."

"Good morning to you, too, Robbie," Liam said dryly, grabbing a towel to dry his hands. His cousin's smirk widened, but before he could say more, Emma turned from the stove, her voice clipped.

"Robbie, stop wasting time and help set the table," she snapped, her words carrying a sharp edge that made Robbie roll his eyes.

"Fine," Robbie drawled, dragging his feet as he grabbed the plates Liam had just dried.

Liam worked quickly, helping Emma plate the pancakes and arrange them neatly on the dining table.

He didn't miss the way she flinched whenever she moved her arms too quickly, the bruises on her skin telling stories she would never say aloud.

By the time everything was set, Jake entered the room, his heavy footsteps echoing ominously down the hall.

The air seemed to thicken as he took his seat at the head of the table, his presence commanding without effort.

Jake's glare swept over Emma and Liam like a storm cloud, settling on his wife for a moment before he barked, "Coffee."

Emma moved immediately, placing a steaming cup in front of him without a word. She sat down quietly, her shoulders tense, her gaze fixed on her plate.

Liam and Robbie joined them, Robbie elbowing Liam as they took their seats.

Jake dug into the pancakes, cutting through the stack with swift, mechanical movements. He ate more than everyone else, the pile on his plate shrinking rapidly.

No one dared to touch their own food until he had nearly finished.

Emma nibbled at her portion, her hands trembling slightly. Liam ate in silence, keeping his eyes down to avoid drawing any attention. Robbie shoveled food into his mouth noisily, clearly unconcerned.

Once Jake was finished, he pushed his plate away and leaned back, a satisfied grunt escaping him.

Then, in a rare show of affection—or control—he reached out, gripping Emma's shoulder briefly before pressing a quick, rough kiss to the top of her head.

"Good job, Em," he said gruffly, though the words carried little warmth.

Emma didn't respond, simply nodding as she stared at the table.

Jake stood, brushing crumbs off his shirt. "I'll be late tonight. Don't wait up," he said, heading upstairs to get ready for work. His footsteps faded, leaving an uneasy silence in the room.

Liam's jaw clenched as he gathered the dirty plates. His eyes flickered to his aunt, whose face remained impassive, a mask she had perfected over the years.

He wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in his throat.

"Better get started on the dishes again, dishwasher," Robbie taunted as he stood, tossing his napkin onto the table.

Liam ignored him, grabbing the plates and heading back to the sink. Another morning survived. Another day closer to freedom.

"Robbie can you get me something from the grocery store when coming?" Emma asked her son after breakfast and they ready for school that Monday but he only scowls and walks out of the door he was going to school

The same school Liam was unfortunately registered in when he came to live with them

Liam can't believe the weekend is finally over, he hated school but he hated this house more, he couldn't call it home.

Liam came downstairs ready for school too when Emma gave him the money for what she needed from the grocery store. She would always ask her son first and Liam wondered why since the son had never agreed but he took it wordlessly and left.

Another day to be in school, a place he'd pay all his fortune if he had any to never go to but have to.

He took his bicycle and off he goes, his cousin had a small car got for him but he'd rather go around picking his friends than to pick Liam to school and honestly Liam préfères it that way.