A boy of eleven finished pulling his books out of his locker, throwing them into his bag and the bag over his shoulder. He slammed his locker closed and started to walk down the hall.

"Edwin," an older boy, a thirteen year old eighth grader said. "My science paper wasn't in my bag. Where is it?"

"I-I-I don't k-know D-Derek," the younger boy, Edwin stuttered as the older boy walked up the now empty hall to where Edwin stood beside his locker.

Derek came up to Edwin and pushed him against the locker. "Where's my paper? You didn't not do it did you? Or did loose it?"

"I-I d-did the p-paper," said Edwin his hands balling into fists, digging his nails into his palms, willing himself to scream or to cry or to shout out or even to run. These fists were not to hit Derek, his older brother with.

Derek grabbed one of Edwin's arms turned it over so the palm was face up. Derek pushed the sleeve up and looked at the cuts along the arm, some healed, some had formed into scars and some were still covered in scabs. Edwin had not done this to himself. He had no to for Derek did plenty of it to Edwin.

"Do I really need to punish you again?" asked Derek, digging his own nails into his little brother's arm which he held tightly.

"N-no," stuttered Edwin. "P-please don't. I-I h-have the p-paper done."

"Then why wasn't it in my bag?"

"I-I h-had m-my own h-homework and I f-f-forgot about it," stuttered Edwin, agraid of what new way his brother would come up with to torture him.

"Well, it'll be the last time you forget," said Derek, dropping Edwin's arm and grabbing Edwin by his shirt collar. Derek pulled his other arm back for a punch.

"Boy?" said the voice of a janitor as she rounded the corner. He only saw Derek with arm raised in what he assumed was a stretching position. The janitor was partially deaf, partially blind and daft in his old age. The school only kept him on because he had been there so long. "Shouldn't you have gone home long ago?"

"Sorry," said Derek turning around, dropping his arms all at once. "I was trying to…..convince….my little brother to come home," Derek explained innocently, once again making it look like Edwin was the bad guy.

"Well, hurry up," said the janitor turning and shuffling away.

Edwin sighed and started to inch away from Derek during this exchange.

Once the janitor was out of earshot, Derek whirled around and said, "Saved by the bell this time dear little brother. Well, I'll just have to take care of your "punishment" later."

Derek picked up his bag which he had dropped at the beginning of this exchange and walked away, Edwin following silently, ten or so steps behind. He willed himself to remain quiet.

"Today," said Derek. "I have a social studies essay on whether or not slavery in Africa was alright. I'm for it so remember that when you right the essay and math. Pages sixty through sixty one are due Wednesday.

"Yes," said Edwin quietly. Today was Monday.

Since they lived close to the middle school, Derek and Edwin walked to and from shcool everyday, since their dad worked a lot. They were soon home and Derek grabbed some chips and soda and plopped on the couch with the TV remote, only after throwing his school bag at Edwin. He quickly ran up the stairs, nearly silent and into his room where he dropped everything on his bed and booted up his computer. He'd gotten it last Christmas and loved it dearly. If it wasn't for the computer he wouldn't know how to handle this suddenly heavier work load.

Ever since Edwin had been in second grade, he could remember doing Derek's homework. At first he hadn't realized what he was doing since Derek told him this was special work and that if he did it he would become more like his brother, whom Edwin aspired to be.

Edwin wasn't completely naïve and slowly started to recognize that he was being "used." Of course he didn't know what being "used" meant but all the same, he knew what was going on wasn't right.

It was the middle of third grade when Edwin had finally gotten the courage after a year and a half of doing Derek's homework to confront him about it.

"Why?" Edwin had said to Derek. "Why do I have to do your homework?" Edwin had learned what this work actually was.

"So you can become like me," said Derek, feeding Edwin the same lie that he had been feeding him since the beginning.

"That's a lie," Edwin stated. "I'm not doing your homework anymore."

That's when the abuse started, little things at first. Derek, who had been watching T.V when Edwin had confronted him had gotten up, walked over to Edwin and had pinched him on the cheek. Hard. It slowly escalated. Pushing and shoving "accidentally" into things at first. For the most part this only left bruised and even then not big ones, or terrible one. This happened through third and most of fourth grade.

It was the end of fourth grade, Derek in sixth that the real abuse started. Edwin had refused to do Derek's science project after Derek had shoved Edwin into the fridge the previous night for getting an A- on a science paper of Derek's. Edwin was just fed up with everything and hadn't yet had his spirit broken.

Derek went berserk and ended up slamming Edwin so hard down the stairs and Edwin had to have stitches in his head. Edwin could still remember the pain. Derek of course hadn't gotten into trouble at this time and said Edwin had been running and slipped down the stairs. Derek never apologized for pushing Edwin down the stairs. Things only got worse.

But some good did come of this. If Derek had never started forcing Edwin to do his homework, Edwin would never of gotten a computer. If he'd never gotten a computer he would of never met SoccerGirlAbused. But that only happens later. Not much later, but still, later.

Edwin sat down in front of his computer and pulled up Microsoft Word and the Internet. He went to his e-mail and scanned through the spam, which was basically all he ever got. Every now and then he'd come across something good but this was rarely.

One subject title did catch his eye today though. "An Abused Angel," it said. Curiously, Edwin opened the e-mail and began to read. It was a poem.

An angel am I,

Yet nobody cares.

All they do is yell,

And hit. That is it.

The other night,

It was worse.

The curse words stung the air.

The bruises were the worst, ever.

The cuts, deep and wide.

Like oceans.

No one deserved this,

No matter what they say.

Are you abused?

Yet cannot so not say?

Then click on the link.

Come to heaven.

A place for all us abused angels.

Edwin stared at the blue link beneath the poem. Could these people really help him? Could they actually stop Derek? How had they known anyways? Or was it pure dumb luck? Whatever the case, Edwin groped for the mouse and then clicked on the link. Nothing worse could happen now.

Once the page as loaded, the screen was filled with a soft blue. A pretty angel girl stood at the top of the page and beneath it the words "Welcome" were in another shade of blue. Then there were two links. Sign up and log in. Edwin clicked on Sign Up and filled in his information, choosing the name AbusedMathKid. He soon clicked the confirmation e-mail in his inbox and was exploring the site.

Edwin soon found the forums and one titles "Share Your Stories." He went into it and started to read some of the people stories. A lot of these people were worse off then him, abused not just physically by their parents but sexually and verbally. Most of the time, Edwin couldn't finish a single story. But then, he found one story he could finish.

It was only a paragraph long and was written by a girl called SoccerGirlAbused. No had responded to her message. The message was:

I was abused for three years by my sister. She would pinch and prod and feed me hot sauce. But I got sick of it and one day rebelled against her. Sure, I ended up in the hospital for two days but I am free of her abuse. I am free to be happy and free to live a new life. I'm free. Free as and angel. I'll help for become free as a bird too. Just drop me a message.

The first thing that went through Edwin's head was that this girl was just like Edwin. She had a sibling that abused her. The second thing was that she was no longer abused by her sibling. His mouse cursor hesitated over the message button. What would she say to him? What would she be like? Could she actually help or was it a lie? Well, he reasoned, he wouldn't know until he tried. He clicked on the button.