Hedrick Berenson | D12 {CBD 1/3} FIN

They never hit my brother because I take the punishments for him. When their hands or belts strike me, I wince in pain, but I've trained myself not to fight back or to scream. I have to take the punishments that I have earned, as well as those that my brother has earned. My parents don't let up just because I'm getting twice the amount of beating. Red marks often litter my body for weeks at a time and I always have to come up with an excuse when I'm asked where they're from.

"I got in a fight," I'll tell people when they ask. That's one of the many excuses that I've practically crafted to perfection over the years. My father has always been the one who's the hardest on me when he hits me. I can't stand the fact that I look like him. We have the same dark hair with the same curls. My eyes are as dark in color as his. I suppose my protectiveness over my brother has been my downfall. That's why I receive extra beatings. The thing is, I don't regret it because all I want to do is keep him safe.

"Are you sure you're alright?" my friends will ask, and I have to tell them yes. Things would only get worse for me at home if my parents knew I was telling people what went on. My brother is the only one who knows, and he insists that I shouldn't take his punishments or daily beatings for him. I tell him I have to, and nothing will change that. I won't let him get hurt if I can stop it.