91 Near Disasters
I knew what my little brother's father was from the beginning. I didn't have a name for it, but you don't need to name the monsters when you're four-years old. Neither one of us had to worry about what was under the bed when we were growing up, not when we knew where the monsters were: at the window, in the alley, behind the nearest fence. Sophia must have noticed them, too. Some days I wonder if that made her drinking worse. Grendels, Auphe, elves ... Whatever name you give them, they're just as vicious, just as single-minded, and just as likely to die before I let them touch my brother again.