"How was school today, Bri?" Braysin's gaze was cast downward at his baby sister as she skipped alongside him. Long brown hair was draped over her shoulders and cascaded down her back in loose waves, hiding prominent feminine features he was certain would one day earn Brielle the title of 'heart breaker'. "School was good!" she chirped, eyes widening as a thought dawned on her. "Wanna see what I made?!" Her question oozed with pride and excitement as the tiny brown eyed girl waited impatiently for her older brother's response. He nodded and smiled down at her, "Show me what you made." He watched as she sifted through a neatly organized backpack to retrieve a carefully rolled up piece of paper, though his thoughts were temporarily elsewhere in those brief moments. A blink of his eyes returned him to the moment and a wry smiled fell across his lips, briefly contemplating the unfledged innocence and enthusiasm that Brielle exuded in sharp contrast to the recent pubescent changes and circumstances that life had afforded to him. As they walked together an extended arm held her work out as she narrated proudly. "This is Mommy and Daddy," she began, the pad of her slender index finger pointing out two colorful, neatly painted figures holding hands, tiny letter 'C's scrawled above them to denote Charles and Christine. "And there's you riding bikes," she continued, a small giggle escaping her lips as fingertips danced across the paper to indicate dark hair and a protective helmet, a letter 'B' written above his name. "And then there's me and Bryan playing on the swings. And on the back of it I wrote a poem but it's only for Daddy so you can't read it." She handed the paper to Braysin for closer examination, imperceptive in her innocence to the tightening of his jaw or flexing of temples at the mention of their father. Tiny feet slapped against the pavement of Ditmars Boulevard as she began skipping once again. Braysin focused on the rhythm of her soles against sidewalk as her question pulled him from permeating dark thoughts. "Do you like it?!" He nodded, running fingertips through tufts of long hair. "I do. I love it, Queen Bri." She met his gaze and smiled at his use of her favorite nickname that he had given her. "You should keep drawing and painting, Brielle. You're good at it and I can tell it makes you happy" he encouraged, his words laced with a subtle hint of urgency as he nudged her wrist gently. His words fell upon deaf ears, her attention focused instead on index fingered air tracing of jagged patterned cracks in the sidewalk ahead of them. As they approached the Astoria apartment, Braysin fished through his pocket for keys. His fingers brushed across a Nokia cell phone, a half smoked joint, a lighter, and a pocketful of loose change before finally grasping at the keys and letting them both into the apartment. Brielle was quick to slip off black Adidas sneakers (identical, of course, to the ones Braysin owned) and dropped her backpack immediately in the foyer. "Hi Mommy, we're home!" She ran towards the kitchen, strands of long hair similar to Christine's trailing behind her. Braysin watched her before perching the painting on a side table that held keys and three picture frames showcasing the Vaux family at various holidays and events over the years. He met glassy veneered frames that encased smiling faces with an eye roll before his attention shifted. "CHRISTINE!" The thunderous summons echoed in the street immediately outside of the apartment where Charles Vaux parked his car. The disquiet in Braysin's head matched the heavy footed saunter of leather dress shoes on concrete as they inched closer to the apartment. Braysin swallowed the hardened ball of knots in the back of his throat, tipping his chin downwards at Brielle who stood smiling beneath him with a half eaten cookie in her mouth and another in her hand for him. "Mommy made cookies for us!" She thrust her hand towards him and spoke through a mouthful of gooey chocolate chips. "Extra chocolate chips, too!" Ignoring Brielle's offer, Braysin's strong hands cupped bony shoulders, guiding his sister's lanky frame towards the stairs. "Not now. I'll grab one later. Go upstairs, Bri." A furrowed brow glance flickered towards the front door before meeting Braysin's gaze. "But Daddy's home and I have to show him the poem that I wrote for him!" she protested. Big brown eyes stared up at her impossibly tall brother in an unintentional, yet perfected, puppy dog plead. Reluctantly, he dismissed her naive disappointment and was left only with the dull throbbing of a pain that had long ago settled deep within his chest. "You'll show him later, Brielle," he sighed, "Go." With his eyes narrowed, Brielle's bottom lip jutted out as the pouting child stalked up the stairs, defeat chiseled into angelic features as he ushered her with a pat to her backside. Moments later lofty footsteps and lead hand grip guided Charles inside of the apartment. As though his booming voice weren't enough, his presence was evident in the notable way that whiskey clung for dear life to his breath. His glazed over icy blues that regarded Brayin with abhorrence knew that while his father would be slumped in his chair, dribbling between snores by dinner time, Braysin had an excruciatingly long night ahead of him.