**Chapter 3: Flashback - The Nightmare**

The sound of his own ragged breathing was the only thing Zack could hear as he stumbled through the darkness, his feet carrying him on autopilot to the one place he knew he could find solace. Mrs. Patterson's house. He had been walking for what felt like hours, but in reality, it was probably only minutes. The pain and fear had numbed his senses, and all he could focus on was getting away from the hell that was his home. As he approached Mrs. Patterson's house, he could see the warm glow of her living room lights through the windows. He felt a surge of hope and relief, knowing that he would soon be safe. He rang the doorbell, wincing as he waited for what felt like an eternity for Mrs. Patterson to answer. Finally, the door creaked open, and Mrs. Patterson's warm smile greeted Zack. But as she took in his appearance, her expression changed to one of shock and horror. Zack's face was a mess of bruises and cuts, his eyes swollen and his nose bloody. He was leaning against the doorframe, his legs trembling beneath him. "Oh, Zack, dear Lord," Mrs. Patterson whispered, rushing to his side. She gently took his arm and led him inside, helping him to sit down on the couch. Zack didn't say a word, he was too exhausted and in too much pain. Mrs. Patterson quickly got to work, fetching a first aid kit and beginning to clean and dress his wounds. As she worked, Zack couldn't help but feel a sense of shame and embarrassment. He had never felt so vulnerable and weak in his life. But as he looked up at Mrs. Patterson, he saw only kindness and compassion in her eyes. She didn't judge him or lecture him, she simply cared for him, and that was exactly what he needed. As she finished up his wounds, Mrs. Patterson sat down beside him, taking his hand in hers. "Zack, what happened?" she asked gently. "Who did this to you?" Zack hesitated, not wanting to burden her with his problems. But something about her kind eyes made him open up. "It's my dad," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "He...he got angry, and he hit me." Mrs. Patterson's expression turned stern, and she squeezed his hand tightly. "I'm so sorry, Zack. That must have been terrible for you." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "We need to call the police, Zack. This can't keep happening." But Zack quickly shook his head, feeling a surge of fear. "No, please don't," he begged. "He'll kill me if you do." Mrs. Patterson's face fell, and she looked at Zack with a mixture of sadness and understanding. "Okay, dear," she said softly. "I won't call the police. But you have to promise me you'll be okay, that you'll try to stay safe." Zack nodded, feeling a lump form in his throat. He knew that he couldn't stay with his father, but he also knew that he couldn't leave him. Not yet, at least. But with Mrs. Patterson's help, he felt a glimmer of hope that things might get better someday. As Mrs. Patterson helped him to bed that night, Zack felt a sense of gratitude towards her. She had taken him in, cared for him, and protected him, without judging him or turning him away. And in that moment, he knew that he could always count on her, no matter what.