Summary: Kurt and Carey have remarried. But, two months after the marriage, Kurt starts to abuse Zack. Not Cody, not Carey -- Zack. And only Maddie will listen to him. ZackMaddie

Disclaimer: I don't own TSL. Never did. Never will.

--Zack's POV--

It was two months ago that Mom and Dad got remarried. At first, I was so happy and Dad was so nice and we were one of those super-happy families with the stricter mother and the more laid back, fun Dad. And life seemed perfect.

Life stayed perfect, at least for Mom and Cody. Well, kind of. I guess I kinda annoyed them, trying to convince them that Dad abused me. Guess what? It never worked. I always ended up being laughed at and people not believing me. Yeah, I'm glad that Mom and Dad are back together, but why did Dad have to beat me, and only me? Being sixteen, I never cried when he did abuse me, I was too tough for that. I couldn't let anyone know that I even wanted to cry. That's Cody's life.

The life that I wanted. The life where you could say what you felt and cry all you wanted, and people didn't laugh at you or anything. And you'd think that Cody would believe me when I said that Dad abused me. But no. He didn't, Mom didn't, Moseby didn't, London didn't, nobody did. I didn't try telling Maddie, of course, because I knew that she wouldn't believe me either.

One time, I even tried setting up cameras in the suite to prove that Dad abused me. But that, of course, failed. Dad saw the cameras and broke them, after ten minutes of abuse. And I just got hit even more with that hard, cold belt because I attempted to turn him in. As Dad put it, "You wanted to get me, your own father, arrested? How could you?" But I knew it was the right thing to do. Problem was, nobody would believe me, not even when I showed them the scars. They just claimed that it was no suprise I had scars, doing the things I did. Sports, car races, and all of that stuff.

This was all too much. I felt I was going to crack. I felt like just breaking down, letting Dad win and letting him taste the sweet taste of victory. I felt like taking the car and my things and running away. But I couldn't do that. I couldn't do that to Cody and Mom. I could do it to Dad in a heartbeat. He wouldn't miss me. That is, unless he missed his little punching bag, the thing he took all his anger out on. But it was Cody and Mom that kept me at the Tipton.

If I left, maybe Dad would start abusing them. Maybe, he'd show his true colors to Mom and Cody. And they wouldn't be able to do anything about his abusing them. They'd be in the pain that I could have, should have, dealt with just because I had run away. I wouldn't let that happen. I couldn't run away and let my mother and my brother be hurt like I was.

So, Dad abused me every day. Whether it was with his own two hands, a belt, a piece of furniture... It didn't matter to him, as long as I was in pain. As long as I was in the physical pain that he wanted me to be in. At first, I had struggled and said that what he did didn't hurt. That was the worst mistake of my life. He just kept on hitting me, harder, until I was on the floor and barely breathing. Lucky for me, Mom walked in right then. However, Dad wasn't caught -- he pretended to be rubbing my back. He acts too nice. He lies too much. I just can't stand it.

Gradually, I started to change. Until, after three months of abuse, I was different. Much different. People didn't understand me anymore, they couldn't tell what I was thinking. They didn't know me anymore. Truth being, I didn't even know myself anymore. And it was all Dad's fault. It was all Dad's fault.

"Give me two Hershey bars," I told Maddie, putting a dollar bill on the counter. I didn't even flirt with her anymore. I think that she enjoyed that I stopped, and I also figured that she thought something was up. She placed the two bars on the counter.

"What's wrong, Zack?" she asked me, and I just shook my head. She couldn't find out. Well, at lot of people should've known, they just didn't believe me. I wasn't going to be ridiculed again about the truth. I grabbed the candy bars and walked away, rubbing a hand through my hair. She knew something was wrong with me, I was pretty sure of that. I just wished that she didn't.

Sliding my room key through the reader, I pushed open the door to find Dad sitting on the couch, watching television. "Oh, did you get those for me?" he questioned, a smirk on his face as he stared greedily at the chocolate bars.

"No, I got them for me," I replied, starting to walk towards my room. Dad got up while I was halfway there, however, and grabbed my arm. I tried to struggle away from his grip, but the more I struggled, the tighter his grip got.

"I think that you did go and get those for me, kid," Dad snapped, using his other hand to reach for the two bars. "Besides, you'll become a diabetic with all of that sugar in your body. So hand them over, and nobody gets hurt."

"Too late for that," I muttered, but I handed the two bars to him. He slowly let go, and I turned around and started walking towards the door, wanting to get out of this suite and get my own chocolate bar. It had been a month since I'd had anything other than the healthy foods, and I was having a sugar craving.

"Did you really think that I was done?" Dad asked, putting the two bars on the table and grabbing my arm again, pulling me around and punching me in the eye. I almost fell to my knees, but Dad grabbed me by the collar and pulled me back up. That was the first time that he had punched me in the face before. He used to only slap me in the face.

I could feel the blood running down my eyebrow from the blow just as Dad kneed me in the stomach. As I opened my mouth to scream in pain, he stuck a piece of cloth in my mouth, gagging me. The evil smirk stayed on his face as he kicked me in the shin, then threw me at the wall. I hit it headfirst, and I could feel blood in my mouth and running down my chin from both my lip and the cut right above my eye. But Dad wasn't done. He kneeled beside me and gave me a few punches in the face, not as hard as the one above my eye but hard enough to make me have some pretty bad bruises. Tears were threatening to come out of my eyes as I pushed myself to my feet, the pain so bad that I had to use the wall for support -- and that wasn't even good enough.

"I'm going out with my band," Dad said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Tell anyone about our little session and you'll die, kid. I'll kill you with my own two hands." I nodded as best as I good, which was only a slight movement -- my head only went an inch or so both ways. I started to move myself to the bathroom, where I would apply bandages and things of that sort.

It took me a few minutes, but I finally got to the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet above the sink, I found the Band-Aids. Putting one plain Band-Aid above my eyebrow, I sighed deeply and then looked at the rest of my face. The lip had stopped bleeding, and the cut above my eyebrow's bleeding was starting to slow. Other than that, there was no blood. I washed my face, then sat on the toilet for a few minutes so that the pain would subside.

Finally, I stood up and took the elevator back down to the lobby. Walking back over to the candy counter, I handed Maddie a dollar and asked for two more Hershey bars. But she noticed my face. "What happened to you?" she asked with concern.

"Nothing happened, and if anything did, it's none of your damn business!" I snapped at her, taking the two bars she handed me and walking back to the elevator, not believing what I just did.

I just yelled at Maddie.

But, she couldn't find out. She wouldn't believe me. She'd laugh. She'd think I was crazy. She'd look at the scars and think they're just from the dangerous things that I do. Nobody seems to understand.