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Imagine your 14 years old and steering a bike down your perfectly manicured suburban block.

It's a hot summer night, freshly watered lawns glistened in the street lights.

As you approach your house, you breathe in the familiar tingling fumes of a charcoal grill.

You pedal faster. Maybe it's barbecue night. Maybe dads making his famous ribs.

The ones you love, where he slathers on the...

Oh no.

You look up at your tiny white house and immediately you know it's not barbecue night.

The windows in your house are closed tight and that can only mean one thing.

Your mom doesn't want the neighbors to know what's going on inside.

It means he's come back.

You drop your bike and you make your way up the short flags down path to the front door.

The one dad weeds and washes by hand constantly, obsessively.

You stand in front of the bright red front door and take a deep breath.

You can do this. Just stay calm. Everything is okay.

Everything is not okay. Not at all.

In the dark living room you see your brothers and sisters, all five of them,

huddled together on the couch. The house is so small there's nowhere else to hide.

A flinch with every scream, bang and crash from the kitchen.

That's where he is.

...