Braden was sleeping soundlessly. He lay on his back with his right arm propelled behind his head. He wore a pair of plain black pajama pants and no t shirt. The music blared in his ear, but it didn't even phase him. For most people, that music would have been way to loud to listen to while trying to sleep, for Braden, however, it was the only way he could fall asleep.  
"Can't you see. I'm easily, bothered by persistence? One step from lashing out at you. You want in, to get under my skin and call yourself a friend. I've got more friends like you. What do I ..." Phil Anselmo's words were harsh and cruel, but he sang them exactly how he meant them; open mindedly and to the point. Pantera had been Braden's favorite band since he was eight years old. That was his age when Stephan, Braden's father, had first started hitting him. He could remember that day as clear as if it was happening now.  

"I drew you a picture, dad." Braden had said, handing his father the picture of a woman being saved from the top of a burning building by Stephan. "Do you like it?" Braden had asked.  
"Braden," he could remember the love seeping out of his fathers voice as he spoke his next words. His father had never acted that way before. "This isn't funny! People that are going to die isn't a joke!" Braden remembered feeling helpless when he spoke his next sentence.
"She's not dying dad. See, your saving her!" tears had streamed down his face because his feeling had been hurt at this point. Then, right in front of Braden's face, Stephan tore the picture into tiny pieces and threw it in his son's face.

But now, nine years later, Braden lay in his bed, dreaming about his life before his father had come home that day. If Braden had known that his father hadn't been able to save a woman and her two children from a burning building that day, he would have never drawn that picture. The song changed, but still, Phil Anselmo's voice screamed from the stolen speakers he's received from his father for his eleventh birthday. Normally, he wouldn't have gotten anything for his birthday, but social services had been called, and he needed it to look like Braden was being treated okay. She checked the family out fine and Braden stayed with his parents. The song changed.  
To a normal person, it would appear that Braden was sleeping calmly and peacefully. To the all seeing eye, however, they would know that Braden was having trouble even staying asleep. This night was probably the only night Braden had been able to fall asleep quickly in his entire life. So maybe, it's possible that this is why Braden didn't wake up when the gunshots were fired in the next room, or the front door being knocked down. Or even when his own bedroom door was knocked to the floor. It was only when two members of the police team dragged him out of bed did Braden finally open his eyes slightly.  
"What the fu ..." he couldn't get his words out before they dragged him to the stairs. Braden peaked over his shoulder towards his parents room, to see what they were doing or saying. He expected that this was all about the beatings he'd been taking for such a long time. The schools must have finally told. Braden thought. That's stupid. They would've waited until the morning. Braden thought secondly. But nonetheless, there were policeman at his house, dragging him out of his bed, and raiding his parents room where they had been sleeping. Braden couldn't see past the group of men in his parents bedroom door. Was a child abuse case really worth all these men? Braden couldn't help but think that. Another policeman stayed behind in Braden's room to look around and grab a t shirt from his drawer. Then he followed the other two down the stairs and out the front door.
When he was finally outside, after being dragged by two men trying to sidestep twenty other people, his feet felt warm in comparison to the wet grass in his front yard.  

- Peyton

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