Joseph Zoan was nineteen years old, and in school to become a sign language interpreter. He lived in a small apartment with his best friend, Icarus. It hadn't been that long, really, since Joseph left the family home. After a while, living in a traumatic environment became almost second nature. The problem was that Orion Zoan was entirely too concerned about what other people thought of him. Joseph was this way as well. He rode home from his therapy session on a red city bus, which was crowded. It helped, having someone to talk to about his trauma. Friends were alright, but after a while, a guy needed someone who understood.

There was a time, ten years ago or so, when Joseph accompanied his parents to spread the word of God. They'd bring all the younger siblings, as the older ones often refused to tag along, and for good reason. As a child, Joseph really didn't have a mind of his own. He did what he was told, believed what was said, the way most children did. It wasn't until he was much older that things began to seem suspicious. Salem, who was older and wiser than Joseph, was never shy about voicing his distaste for the way of their family.

"What on Earth is that?" Lillian shrieked one day, after discovering a small sigil tattoo on Salem's arm. "What did you do to yourself?"

At Lillian's outburst, Salem shrugged, pulling the hood of his black cloak over his head. "It's just a tattoo, Mom. Everybody has one."

He wasn't too far off. Joseph was sixteen when he ran away, and the first thing he’d done was get a tattoo. It felt like some sort of rite of passage, like a long-awaited rebellion. Lillian didn't agree. At Salem's suggestion, her white face scrunched, appalled by the very thought. "I certainly don't! A true child of God would never dare take part in such a dirty act. You've destined yourself to a life of sin." She was always a dramatic woman. Perhaps she had been different once, before marrying Orion. Perhaps she had been kind and easygoing. She'd snatched Salem's arm, examining it before throwing it back down. "You're going to Hell."

At some point, each of the children was afraid of this: even Mosiah, even Jacob. It never worked on Salem, who was a skeptic from a young age. This infuriated Lillian. When she went on these long, threatening rants, Salem would just smile and say, "Save me a seat."

Joseph attended the same college as his sister, Mary. She was a year younger, and spent her free time picking up shifts at the campus restaurant. Mary had become a mother at the age of seventeen and been tossed out of the home, forced to find a way to provide for herself and her son. She wasn't good at it. Mary claimed the pregnancy hadn't been her fault, but you know what they say. It takes two to tango.

As a child, Easter had been Joseph’s favourite holiday. Though he’d grown tired of Good Friday mass, it was always exciting to wake up on Easter Sunday and join his siblings in the egg hunt. It seemed holidays were the only time of year the family acted like anybody else. Holidays were the only time Joseph’s parents were kind and dutiful, and this gave him something to look forward to. When he was about twelve or thirteen years old, he’d been woken on the morning of Easter by Monty, who insisted it was time to come upstairs.

During the summer, Joseph worked part-time as a lifeguard. He'd had this job for two years, which was likely longer than anyone would have expected – but Joseph had a keen eye for observation and was good at his job. It certainly wasn't something he saw himself doing for the rest of his life, but it paid the rent for the time being, and he enjoyed doing it.

On the farm, when a boy turned six, he learned to milk a cow. Joseph had spent hours sitting in the sun, gathering the milk for his sisters to cook with, getting up long before sunrise to be finished in time for school. He’d learned to plow the fields before he was ten years old, though it was never his responsibility until all his older brothers moved out. He always hated it, farm work. Perhaps if he’d have had the chance to do it of his own accord, it would have been less of a chore.

Hannah was always Orion’s favourite. This might have contributed to her goody-two-shoes attitude, and her obsession with following the rules. Being Orion’s favourite meant less punishments and more attention - though it was nearly impossible to make your way into this position. In the end, all a child wanted was to be validated and noticed, and many of them would have done anything for this to happen. Joseph remembered a day from late childhood, when he’d been fighting with his sisters over homework. Orion had shouted at them, distracted by a conversation with his wife, and forced the children to sit alone in separate rooms until they smartened up.

Joseph dodged a group of noisy friends conversing. "Hey, Ike."

Ike was a lanky white man, rather nerdy, who enjoyed role play games and thriller novels, and who was studying to become a physician. He and Joseph had become friends in first year college, after being assigned to the same biology project. He was much more self-assured than Joseph, but most people were. "Party tonight. Gonna be tons of hot girls there. Wanna come?" Ike, who had just got a retainer, spoke with a slight lisp. Ike was a sociable person. Joseph was not.

Joseph's oldest sister was ten years older than him, and moved out when he was eight years old. When Delilah still lived at the farm, Joseph used to wake her for church by putting a pillow over her face and sitting atop it. He regretted this now. In childhood, he found a strange thrill in tormenting his eldest siblings. Delilah was married now, living in Iceland with her wife and teaching English, rarely contacting home. Joseph didn't blame her. When he tortured Delilah, she'd punch his arm or his stomach, and that girl packed a surprisingly painful punch.

"When you move out, I won't miss you!" Joseph said once, slapping his sister with a pillow. If you asked Delilah, she'd probably say Joseph was an asshole. "I'm going to take your room!"

She'd sighed, squinting at him. "Good for you." Joseph knew she was bitter about her upbringing, forced to look after her siblings instead of being a teenager, but this wasn't his fault. If anything, this gave her practice for getting along with her step-kids.

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Joseph watched Ike pull a notebook out of his locker. "Sure. I guess I could stop by for a bit." It was hard to explain how freedom felt, after spending a lifetime all but locked inside. Some days, Joseph went places just because he could. "Can I catch a ride with you?" When the weather was nice, Joseph drove a Vespa. This was hard to manage when the snow hit.

As a teenager, Joseph was never allowed girlfriends or much of a social life at all, which was something every teenager needed. He was never one to argue much, or to sneak out of the house. Once, a few months after moving out, Salem came by the farm in the middle of the night, knocking on Joseph's bedroom window. "Come on," he said, "let's go for a drive."

Mary was working. When she was in a depressive mood, she paid extra attention to her tasks at the restaurant. When she was calm, work was just another mundane responsibility. On a bench outside the restaurant, Joseph waited for his sister, having agreed to get lunch with her. She’d been struggling lately with the responsibilities of work and motherhood. Mostly she’d been struggling with her mental health. Joseph wasn’t a doting older brother. He did feel for Mary.

She emerged from the restaurant, looking dishevelled and worn out. Joseph wondered where her son went when she was at school or work. She’d never asked him to babysit. If she had, he would have declined. “Wow,” said Mary, flopping down on the bench next to him, “you actually came.”

“Yeah. Trust me, I’m surprised too.”

Around the hall from the campus restaurant, Joseph often attended lunch in the meal wing. Mary smiled, gesturing for him to follow. “Well, I’m glad you did.” She carried a small purple purse, and a jacket which contained that day’s tips. “I want to spend more time with you. We haven’t had the best relationship, but we’re getting older now, and I don’t want us to hate each other forever.”

She was a sentimental girl. But everybody always had an ulterior motive. “You just want me for free babysitting.”

Mary sighed. “Joe, for once, can you not be a total dick?”

Old habits die hard. “Sorry.”

The halls were long and winding, and Mary led the way. After checking her phone, she ducked into the meal wing, weaving through a noisy crowd of students. Joseph and Mary looked very similar, but everyone was surprised to find out they were related. “Have you eaten yet? I wanted to get dinner with you.”

“Why? Are you too embarrassed to admit you don’t have any friends?”

Joseph was an asshole to his sisters. He knew this - and when Mary invited him to spend time together, she had to have known what she was getting into. Mary led him to a table, pulling her curly hair into a ponytail. “Actually, I felt bad for you because no one likes you.” Joseph was hungry, and unprepared for class. That morning, he’d argued with Ike before leaving for school.

Mary’s phone rang. Sighing, she sat at a table to answer it.

Joseph hadn’t spoken to his father since leaving the farm. When he was fifteen, he’d taken off very early in the morning after a fight with Lillian became physical. Like Mosiah, he’d wandered until growing weary, and then took a nap in some bushes in whatever neighbourhood he’d ended up in. Joseph had no plan, of course, and briefly assumed he’d end up homeless. Even this would have been better than remaining at home. When he woke, it was raining, and he was wearing thin clothing. Joseph wasn’t a resourceful person, but he needed a plan - and so, wandering to a dollar store, he spent the last of his pocket change on posterboard and pencils, and got to work.

Even at fifteen, Joseph knew hitch-hiking was dangerous. He hated being reckless, and hated the thought of getting in a vehicle with a complete stranger. For a boy who’d been stuck inside all of his life, the world was huge and petrifying. He stood at the corner of a highway with a neon yellow sign, on which he’d scribbled Stratford in sloppy print. It had taken a while. When the rain turned into snow, and the sun went down, an elderly woman took pity on him.

Four years ago, Salem was still renting, and Joseph had struggled to find his apartment. He’d make sure, each time he moved, to mail home a letter containing his new address, in case any of the children ever needed somewhere to go. Orion and Lillian, unsurprisingly, never cared enough to look inside the envelopes. Joseph was soaked and freezing when he arrived at the apartment, and couldn’t get inside. There’d been a risk, also, that Salem wasn’t even home that time of night - but Joseph was desperate not to spend another moment out in the cold. “Excuse me,” he said to a tenant on her way inside. “I forgot my key inside. Could I come in with you?”

He’d needed a change of clothes, but hadn’t thought ahead. At the time, all Joseph had in his possession were the clothes on his back. It could have been midnight, or two thirty. When he banged on the door to Salem’s apartment, he’d waited quite a long time for it to open.

“Hi, Salem.” He was tired and sore from wandering, and his hair dripped water down his face. “Can I stay with you?”

He remembered there being a girl in the apartment, and feeling awkward about intruding. Salem never minded an unannounced visit from a sibling. “Why is there a bruise on your face?”

Joseph peeled off his jacket, which clung to him. “Lillian threw a book at me.”

It was a small apartment. Salem hated it there. Joseph knew he didn’t mind the surprise visit. It meant company, and Salem hated being alone. “Come get some dry clothes,” he said, and stepped back in the doorway to let Joseph stumble inside.

“I have to go.” After finishing her phone call, Mary sat back at the table and heaved a sigh. “I need to pick up Malachi. Apparently he has a fever.” Joseph didn’t know much about Malachi’s father, except that he was quite a few years older than Mary and refused to be in the toddler’s life. Joseph had mixed feelings about this. A man should have just as much right to walk away as a woman, he believed. If it had been Mary who hadn’t wanted to keep Malachi, and Kian who had, the reactions to her pregnancy would have been vastly different.

“I have class anyway.” The week was nearly over, and Joseph had very few weekend plans. He’d play video games, like he usually did, with Ike and whomever else was around. “Later, shitstain.”

Mary rolled her eyes, gathering up her things hastily. “Asshole.”

Something Joseph had learned about children in his brief trips to therapy was that they needed to be paid attention to - and would beg for this attention in all kinds of different ways. When Joseph acted up as a child, he didn’t do it to be spiteful or purposely annoying. Children acted out for attention, Joseph had learned. This made more sense the more he thought about it. Joseph never planned on having kids. This is what Mary had said too.