"Useless little bastard!"

"Stop it!"

"Why don't you join the army like I did and actually make something of yourself?"

"Not today, please…"

His father's hand suddenly slammed down hard on the table and any further protests from his mother died on her lips.

Gareth said nothing, keeping his head bowed as he started to wring his thin hands, biting his lower lip.

"As I was saying!" his father continued coldly. "What the feck do you think you're doing running from a fight at the school?"

"I…" the boy hesitated for a moment and was rewarded by another slammed hand on the table. The sound made him flinch and he softly whimpered.

"Look at that!" his father said, pointing an accusing finger at his young son. "Whimpers like a fecking woman over a loud sound! I thought that I had a son, not a fecking daughter!"

"I can do better…" Gareth whimpered.

"I can do better!" his father mocked and Gareth was forced to fight the urge to step back as he saw his father tugging at the belt around his waist.

"I know you're going to do better!" the man spat down on his son. "Because I'm going to make you better! When I was in the army, you didn't run from a fight! You stood there and you fought back! Now take off your shirt and turn around."

A soft whimper escaped the boy's lips and without warning he was down on the ground as the belt struck him across the face.

...

Gareth Keenan flinched as he was suddenly roused from his memories by the ringing of his cell phone and on reflex he took it out from his holster and opened it.

"Gareth Keenan. Hello?"

"Cock!"

Angrily Gareth flipped his phone off and put it back in its holster before shooting a glare at Tim.

"Stop it!" he demanded. "Stop it or I'll…"

"Or you'll what? Get into the mind set of a wolf?" Tim asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Gareth narrowed his eyes and his hands started to shake, but he quickly shut them tightly, making his knuckles white.

He had often had the urge to lash out and hit Tim in his smug face, but unlike his father…He knew that violence was not the answer and he was often forced to lash out with his words instead of his hands like he wanted to.

"When I was in the army."

"Territorial."

"Territorial army! We would get hit if we talked to our superiors like you do to me!"

"Gareth, you're not my superior."

"Yes, I am."

"No, I'm your superior!"

"Team leader, remember?"

"Whatever. Milk monitor!"

Once again his father's rage started to try and boil over inside of him, but Gareth closed his eyes and took a deep breath and once more he beat it down before he then went back to work, typing furiously on his keyboard.

He would prove to his father that he was strong, strong in his own way.