My father hated when people would call me Han instead of using my full name. The only person who had gotten away with it was Martin, because he didn't care what my father said.
I looked up from the bed, and with the light from the window behind him, got a good look at my brother.
For a second we just stared at each other. He looked bigger and muscular as well as older than I remembered.
It was like seeing a ghost. How could it be that Martin was alive?
All I was told was that he had died, and my father basically never talked about him again. Lori and my brothers never mentioned him in front of my parents either, but sometimes when we were alone, we'd tell our favorite Martin stories.
He was the only one who would stand up to our father. At that time, I hadn't even realized the extent of my father's abuse, but we all knew he could be stern, and he had precise rules that we all had to obey. With Martin around, though, we often felt as though we had a guardian angel.
