Elias showed up at home the day after the club incident, as soon as he’d sobered up. He expected the usual blowout—the screaming, the vitriol, the standard welcome. But today was different. The house was quiet, save for the low drone of a television in the living room. He was met by Lisa, her hair a mess, wearing an oversized sweater she always used to hide the bruises. She bolted out of the kitchen, her eyes so wide with terror that Elias immediately imagined the worst. She pressed a finger to her lips and waved frantically for him to leave, but it was already too late.

  His father lumbered out of the living room. The reek of stale booze hit Elias instantly. Lisa let out a small whimper and scrambled back two steps, hovering in the kitchen doorway. His father—a man of immense heft with a thick mustache and a heavy hand—was flushed crimson from the drink. His face contorted the moment he laid eyes on his eldest son. Pure, unbridled rage took hold of him—the kind of state that used to paralyze the whole family with fear.

  "Look at you. Finally showed up," his father spat venomously.

  "Oh, so you haven’t gone blind from that cheap schnapps of yours yet," the youth sneered, indifferently looking away.

  "Where the hell have you been, you little freak?!" Mr. Huber bellowed, closing the distance and snatching his son by the wrist. In the exact same way Elias usually did.

  "Get your hands off me!"

  "I asked you a question! Where have you been?!"

  "Whored myself out. Brought shame to the family," Elias smiled mockingly, tilting his head back to look his father in the eye. The man was half a head taller. "I even used your name, so everyone would know exactly where to find a sl—"

  He was cut off by a heavy blow to the cheekbone. The familiar flare of pain ignited, and Elias ground his teeth to keep from reacting instantly. But who was he kidding? He’d never been one for restraint.

  Elias took a small step back, as far as the grip on his arm allowed, and kicked his father square in the solar plexus with a forceful swing, sending him reeling to the other side of the room. Right back into the arched doorway of the living room.

  "I told you to keep your damn hands off me!"

  He nearly cursed, but stopped himself, remembering Lisa was right there. The mother of the household appeared from the living room. Mrs. Huber, let out a dramatic gasp and rushed to her husband, fussing over him. Elias wasn't even surprised. She had always been this way—clinging to the "man of the house" more tightly than she ever did her children. He reached out to his sister, who was still huddled at the kitchen entrance, gesturing for her to follow him.

  Lisa obeyed instantly, her small palm quickly sliding into her brother’s large hand. She tried to hide her trembling as they climbed the stairs, but she was doing a terrible job of it.

  They reached the second floor. Walking down the hallway, Elias kicked the door next to his room and called out loudly:

  "Bandits! Krampus is home, and he brought loot!"

  Two messy heads popped out of the room immediately. Thomas and Lukas broke into wide grins and lunged at their older brother, literally hanging off him. Elias didn't mind; he scooped them both up and, without breaking the embrace, hauled them into his room. Lisa closed the door behind them. The gifts were snatched up in seconds. For his sister, Elias had brought a new bag and a necklace; for his brothers, a new Lego set. They began inspecting it at once, not even noticing the four bars of chocolate resting at the bottom of the bag.

  Lisa couldn't remember a day when Elias returned home without gifts. Sometimes it was designer bags or clothes, expensive toys, jewelry, even electronics—other times, just simple sweets. The longer he was gone, the more expensive the peace offering. It was his way of apologizing for not always being there. Lisa always knew where he went. Or rather, she had an idea... Sometimes she saw him bruised, running down the street, disappearing into cars driven by strangers. Often she saw him "unsteady," but never just from drink. He never came home in that state, which was why he sometimes chose to wander the streets until dawn, barely able to keep his feet. Thomas and Lukas were still too young to realize the "dirty labor" that had paid for their toys.

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  But Lisa understood. She remembered why they had fled the capital, remembered the scandal and the frantic packing. They had traveled in separate cars back then, and when they arrived in this city, Elias hadn't been home for at least two weeks. After that, the atmosphere in the house ceased to resemble anything like a family. Then again... had it ever? Lisa couldn't recall a single year when they had truly been one. Her most vivid memory would forever be linked to a kitchen knife poised above her.

  After school, Elias had gone straight into the service, and those eight months of his absence had been a living hell for Lisa. It was only then that she realized just how cruel her father truly was. If before he had vented only on his eldest—who was always covered in welts—now, only she and her mother were within reach. Her father wasn't an idiot. He never hit her in the face to avoid suspicion, and he forced her to wear long sleeves to hide the rest. Did Elias realize what he was leaving them to? He must have, but he had no other choice.

  Lisa often wondered: what would have happened if Elias hadn't enlisted then? But she always reached the same conclusion: he wouldn't have been able to protect them. He had always been tall, though shorter than their father, but due to malnutrition, bad habits, and everything else, he could never put on muscle. The horror that forever changed the family’s fate happened when Elias returned from the army. Hardened, strong, and trained to kill. He had been discharged two weeks early after being caught in a sexual liaison with one of the high-ranking commanders. Her father, naturally, couldn't let that slide. The fallout was a total catastrophe. Their mother had managed to hide in the nursery with the five-year-old twins, but Lisa hadn't escaped in time and was trapped in the crossfire. Dishes, insults, blows, and random objects flew at Elias. He took it all quietly, fists clenched, mostly out of habit.

  "You bastard..." Her father, looking half-crazed, suddenly turned and grabbed Lisa by the hair, yanking her toward him. The eleven-year-old girl shrieked and fell hard, splitting her lip against the corner of a wall. "Is this one going to grow up to be a whore too, under your influence?! Answer me, both of you!" They remained silent. "Filthy, miserable bastards!"

  Mr. Huber’s eyes darted frantically around the kitchen like a madman's. They landed on a meat knife. Suddenly, Elias began to act on instinct, faster than rational thought. He lunged, throwing himself between them, pulling his little sister to him to shield her. The sharp blade in a trembling hand slashed across his back, shearing off a strip of skin. It would leave a deep, jagged scar forever. Elias didn't even scream as the spray of blood painted his back crimson, leaving both his father and sister in a state of shock. The youth ignored the pain; he simply stood up, shoved Lisa behind his back, and with a sudden, violent motion, seized his father’s wrist—the one holding the knife. The gaze he leveled at the man was nothing but pure, icy rage.

  "Just try to touch her again," Elias hissed, twisting the arm so hard the bones groaned ominously. He was breathing heavily, bearing down on the man as he felt the trembling girl clinging to his bloodied back. "You touch any of the little ones, and I will kill you. You know I can do it. I’ll certainly kill you."

  After that day, the family was never the same. Their father’s absolute authority was shattered, even if he remained the "head of the household" in name. Elias began disappearing from home, spending time with new acquaintances from the army. After these meetings, he would sometimes bring home money—more money than his father earned in six months. And so, the eldest son became the primary breadwinner, further destabilizing the father’s fragile position.

  Elias spent three days with them. When Lisa led her younger brothers out of their religion lesson, she found her older brother in high spirits. He was whistling a light tune, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, and hadn't smoked nearly as much as he usually did. In that same suspiciously good mood, they stopped for ice cream on the way home. But Elias never revealed the source of his joy.

  Now, well past midnight, with everyone in the house asleep, Elias is quickly packing his things into a duffel bag. Just the essentials he always took for a few days: cash, a change of clothes, hairspray and a comb, cologne, several bottles of water, and a bottle of liquor. With a soft click, the door opened, and Lisa’s head appeared in the gap. With her fair hair down and her light blue nightgown, she looked very much like a child... at least to Elias.

  "Are you leaving again?"

  "Yeah." He turns and, seeing the disappointment in her eyes, sighs, rushing to justify himself. "Just for a few days, not forever."

  "Take me with you."

  "And do what with you?" Elias zips the bag and pulls on his jacket. "Where would I even put you?"

  "Anywhere! I don't want to stay here!"

  "No. I can sleep just about anywhere, but you're still a kid. Besides, who’s going to watch over those two hooligans?" He gestured to the wall, behind which Thomas and Lukas were sleeping.

  "I’m not a kid! And I don't give a damn about them!"

  "Lisabetta!" Elias barked, slamming his hand down on the table.

  "What!?" the girl snapped back. "You’re leaving because of that priest, aren't you? You're always hovering around him!"

  Elias drew a sharp breath through his teeth, closing the distance between them in a single stride. He raised his hand to the level of her throat... but did nothing. He only clenched his fingers until his knuckles cracked, then exhaled slowly.

  "Stop screaming." He placed a hand on Lisa’s shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. "It’s none of your business where I go or why, you hear me? I don't bring money into this family and to you specifically just to listen to your hysterics."

  Lisa bit her lip, looking away in hurt. It was what she always did to keep from crying—a family trait. She was far too proud.

  "Liz..." Elias suddenly felt a crushing wave of guilt. He smiled, that same easy smile as before, and playfully pinched her cheek. "Don’t make that face. Come on, I’ll give you some cash, you can go out somewhere with your friends, hm? How much do you need?"

  She didn't answer. No answer was required. Elias simply tucked a roll of bills into her hand, gave her head a parting ruffle, and slipped out of the house into the night.