Big, Happy Family.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened to your face?”

Cedric kept his hood up and his head down, ignoring the pitying looks and questions from late-night commuters on the subway who caught sight of his busted face.

He could see the full extent of the damage reflected in the scratched train window, he looked like he'd gone three rounds with a heavyweight boxer and lost every single one.

By the time he climbed the four flights to his mother's apartment, not Ray’s, he would never call it Ray’s, his ribs hurt with every step he took and cold sweat dripped down his back.

He fumbled with his keys, but the door swung open before he could use them.

Lily stood there in purple pyjamas with little stars, her adorable face lighting up with happiness. She held up a piece of paper, it was a drawing of a house with a garden and three stick figures holding hands.

"Hey, Lil-bit." Cedric's voice came out rough, but he managed to smile. "Whatcha got there, sis?"

She grinned, waving the paper in his face.

"Is that us? That's where we're gonna live someday?" He crouched down to ruffle her hair the way she liked, despite his ribs protesting, and that's when he saw it.

A dark purple bruise circled her upper arm like a handprint. It looked like four fingers and a thumb, clear as day.

Cedric's hand froze, his vision going red with rage. He said nothing, because he couldn't trust what would come out of his mouth; instead, he just let his fingers gently brush through her hair.

"How was school today?" he asked quietly. "Did you finish that butterfly project?"

Lily nodded, then held up five fingers.

"Five gold stars? Damn, you're gonna put the whole class to shame." He pulled her into a careful hug. "You're the smartest kid I know, even smarter than I used to be, and that’s saying something.”

He laughed, holding her tenderly, “Where’s Ma?”

She squeezed back, then pointed toward the kitchen before skipping back to the living room where her colouring pencils were scattered in front of the TV.

Six years. It’d been six years since their father's body was found in the bathroom, beaten so badly the coroner said he'd been dead before he hit the ground. Six years since Lily had been the first to come home from school and find him lying in a pool of blood, six years since she'd spoken a single word.

The child therapist said the trauma caused her to have selective mutism, that she might talk again when she felt safe and the only thing we could do was be patient.

Cedric wondered if she'd ever feel safe. Not here, not with Ray.

He limped toward the kitchen, and his mother stood at the stove tending to a bubbling pot. The moment she turned and saw him with his hood off, she ran across the kitchen.

"Cedric! Oh my God-" Her wet hands grabbed his face. "What happened?"

"Nothing, Ma. I'm fine." He pulled away, wincing in pain.

"That is not fine! Your eye-"

"Just some guy at the bar I work at giving me trouble. You know how it is.” He lied smoothly, avoiding her gaze.

His mother stared at him for a long moment, and he could see her deciding whether or not to push. Whether or not she had the energy for another fight tonight.

She didn’t.

“Come here,” she said instead, pulling him into a hug.

Cedric wrapped his arms around her carefully. When had she gotten so small? How long had it been since he’d last visited?

"I came home to see you about your job,” he murmured. "Ma, I'm so sorry, that’s such bullshit."

"Language, there’s a kid in the house” she said automatically. “Five years I worked at that hospital, and now I'm out of a job. I don't know what we're going to do. The rent is due in two weeks and Ray…”

"Don’t worry, I’ve got it all figured out. I was thinking maybe I could get a second job or something, to help out more.”

"What kind of job?" she asked skeptically.

"The legal kind," he lied again, because what else could he say?

She looked at him with tired, knowing eyes. "Cedric-“

The front door slammed open hard enough to rattle the walls and every ounce of warmth and happiness in the house disappeared instantly.

Ray Kowalski stomped in like a force of nature, a short, stocky man built like a tree trunk, his work boots tracking God-knows-what across the carpet. His face was cherry red, and he only ever looked like that after blowing whatever little savings they had at a bar.

"Lily!" His voice boomed. "What the hell did I tell you about my TV?"

In the living room, Lily had gone completely still.

"I leave the house for five minutes, and you change my football game to fucking cartoons?" Ray grabbed the remote, jabbing clumsily at buttons. "Linda! Can you control your kid?"

"She's twelve, Ray…"

"I don't care if she's twelve or twenty! This is my house! Mine!” He grabbed Lily’s arm roughly, no doubt leaving another bruise on her body as he bundled her away from the TV, “Go colour that shit somewhere else!”

Cedric's hands curled into fists as Lily gathered her crayons silently, head down, and ran off to the hallway to hide.

"Linda!" Ray barked. "Where the hell is my dinner?"

“Sorry, just give me ten minutes…”

"I've been giving you ten minutes for an hour now!" Ray grabbed a beer out of the fridge, popping it open.

That's when he noticed Cedric, and his face split into an ugly smile, "Well, well. Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence. It’s the family failure.”

His mother had remarried the son-of-bitch out of desperation. Back then, her husband had just been killed and she was a broke housewife with two children to take care of alone, so she needed an extra income. Someone who would help pay the bills and parent the kids while she worked on her nursing degree so she could get a job.

Apparently, Ray was the best she could do.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out with your homo friends, shooting up drugs?”

"Watch your mouth," Cedric said quietly, clenching his fists with irritation.

Ray stepped closer. "This is my house. I'll say whatever I want. You got rent money? Because if you're crashing here, then you better have cash."

"I have my own place." Cedric muttered, struggling to control himself for his mother’s sake, she never liked violence.

"Right, that tiny shithole apartment you can barely afford." Ray finished his beer and crushed the can. "How's that working out for you? Do you still sell your ass in bars to make rent?"

"Ray, that's enough…” Cedric’s mother started to protest.

"Shut up, let's talk about this. Your druggie son who dropped out of school, who embarrasses this family on a daily basis with his lifestyle, thinks he can tell me how to talk!" Ray was getting louder, slurring his words at the top of his voice.

"You know what? Maybe I should do us all a favour. Those debt collectors who keep calling, maybe I should just tell them where to find you. Let them handle the family embarrassment!"

The kitchen went completely silent.

Cedric stared at Ray, and every violent impulse he'd ever had came roaring to the surface. He could do it, he could grab that empty beer can and smash the jagged edge into Ray's smug face. He could slam his head into the counter, into the fridge, into the floor until he stopped talking, stopped breathing, stopped fucking existing.

But Lily was in the hallway, mom was watching. And he'd already destroyed enough.

"Fuck you," Cedric said instead, keeping his voice deadly calm. "And stay the hell away from my sister."

"Or what? What are you gonna do, junkie?"

Cedric turned and walked away before he did something he couldn't take back, he took the stairs to his old bedroom two at a time and slammed the door hard, then he locked the door and leaned against it, breathing shakily, his hands trembling with adrenaline and rage and desperation.

Three hundred thousand dollars. Two weeks. Mom fired. Lily bruised. Ray threatening to call the loan sharks. Three hundred thousand dollars. Two weeks. Mom fired. Lily bruised. Ray threatening to call the loan sharks. Three hundred thousand--

Cedric cursed, then pulled out his phone with trembling fingers, scrolling to find Brett's number. The phone rang six times before he finally picked up.

"Cedric? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"About that job you mentioned," Cedric said. His voice sounded hollow and defeated. "When do I start?"