As much as I try I know I can not get any closer to Phil.

The candles are burning again. I can smell them. I can feel them. I want to cry but it's as if I'm drained.

I go downstairs. I see Mum. She is not pretty. She is not the mum I know. She is sobbing on the ground, with bruises and red marks along her face and body. Dad is there. He has a belt.

"-whore wife thinking you can fuck other men?!" Dad yells.

"No! I'm not a wh-"

The belt comes down on her and her words are replaced by screams.

Dad looks up. He sees me. He snarles.

"Get down here."

I walk slowly down, scared and careful. The candles engulfed me and I almost fell.

"Leave Dan out of this-" Mum cried, but Dad cut her off with a kick in the stomach.

"You think you're so great, don't you? Think your Mummy is gonna protect you? Well, watch this, Mummy's Boy."

"James no-"

I don't know how a knife got its self lodged into Mum's stomach but it did. And her face was one of disbelief and hurt. And the candles kept burning. And I couldn't cry. And God I felt so awful, I needed to cry, but even as Dad beat me and called me awful names for the next four years until he sent me to boarding school, I couldn't cry.