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Ryan lay on his stomach on the living room floor with his legs in the air. Crayon in hand, he focused on adding colour to his best drawing to date. He couldn't wait to show his mother when she returned home, but he had to finish it first. Desperately seeking the full 'wow factor' when he showed her. He knew she would be ever so proud of him, and if he was lucky, it might just gain pride of place on the refrigerator.

The Autumn afternoon was dimming, and the lounge was becoming gradually duller as he scribbled with such diligent intent that he didn't hear the front door knock.

In fact, the first time he even looked up from his newest work of art was when his father burst through the lounge door, making it bang against the wall, causing Ryan to jump out of his skin. Dropping his crayon, he gasped in relief when he saw it was just his silly dad. Ryan grinned and rolled his eyes. His smile was short-lived as he made eye contact with his father and realised his face was awash with panic.

Ryan sat up and was about to ask his father what was wrong when he hurried towards him, index finger raised to his lips. He rushed to help a confused Ryan to his feet, stepping on his array of crayons as he did so.

Ryan scowled, as his beautiful colours crunched under his father's careless footsteps. He was ready to protest when his father took his hand and yanked him towards the kitchen with a panicked urgency. Dumbstruck, he let his father lead him, watching the back of his head as he crouched awkwardly across the lounge and into the kitchen before quietly closing the door behind them.

His father’s eyes looked desperate and full of worry. Ryan stood in the centre of the kitchen, watching as he rushed to close the adjacent door that led to the stairs and quickly pulled the blind down over the stained glass back door.

Ryan wondered if they were hiding.

His dad sighed with evident relief as he scurried across the room and flicked off the light, which didn't make the room any darker as it had only been on because of the threatening rain clouds slightly dimming the sky outside. Ryan was perplexed.

His father shot a reassuring look at him as he crouched his way towards the window of the kitchen and peeked over the edge of the kitchen counter, frantically glancing out into the backyard.

Ryan frowned, unsure why his father was behaving in such a manner. He was working up the courage to ask when his father turned back towards him and gasped. Reaching out, he grabbed Ryan's wrist and pulled him down onto the floor. His eyes were full of frantic exacerbation as he nodded towards the kitchen counter, revealing to Ryan his impatient intention for him to sit against it.

Ryan scooted on his backside towards the cupboards and lent and against them. The relief on his father's face was evident as he shut his eyes tight and caught his breath.

The tiles were cold and hard underneath him. Ryan wondered how long they would have to sit there.

It wouldn't be long before his mother returned home from picking up his sister from school, and she wouldn't be impressed that they were clowning around whilst there were still jobs to do around the house. She was, as she liked to remind them, a very busy woman.

Ryan looked at his father, who had stopped stooping and sat against the kitchen counter next to him a few feet away. His dad shot him a weak smile of reassurance but his eyes were full of fear.

Worry hung thick in the air.

They sat in silence as the creaking sound of the garden gate resonated through the glass. Ryan glanced at his father, raising an eyebrow expectantly; was this the seeker?

His father closed his eyes again, clearly disheartened. Ryan heard multiple footsteps approaching the back door as his father gasped and scrambled back to his feet, almost slipping over on the cold kitchen tiles in his rush to reach the back door.

Ryan sat in stunned silence as he watched his father fumble to turn the key lock. A loud click resonated around the room as Ryan noted the sweat on his father’s brow. Ryan's stomach started to churn as he began to doubt this was a game. What could possibly be the matter? His father smiled at him weakly before ducking back down.

Ryan watched as his father walked awkwardly on all fours back towards their hiding place under the window, unaware as small bits of paper fluttered out of his pocket and onto the tiles below.

Ryan jumped as a loud knock hammered against the back door. He looked at his father who silently mouthed something that Ryan suspected was intended to reassure him. The knocking came again, even louder this time. His father placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze - warning him not to move.

Ryan nodded. His father's eyes followed his as his eyesight trailed back to the slips of paper on the floor. His father sucked in a sharp intake of breath as he hurried to pick them up, stuffing them back in his pocket in a hurry.

Amidst the panic, one of them fluttered back to the floor and landed in front of Ryan's feet for a brief second before his father snapped it up and out of sight.

Ryan recognised the paper. His heart sank with a heavy sadness. He felt hot tears swell in his eyes as he realised what was happening. Suddenly everything made sense. He looked at his father in disbelief as he retook his spot on the floor beside his son.

Guilt was written all over his face as it flushed a deep shade of red. He hung his head as the footsteps outside made their way around the back of the house, and began tapping on the kitchen window above them.

Ryan ignored it and continued to stare at his father. As he waited for an explanation, anger began to burn in his chest.

His father had been to see the horses. Again.

Those slips were the same ones his mother had found in his pocket a few weeks earlier, and the row that had quickly followed was the worst Ryan had ever witnessed. His parents didn't tend to quarrel much, but the night his mother had found those papers in his father's jeans, boy did she get mad. Ryan would never forget that night. He should have been asleep but he'd been reading under his blanket with a torch when the sound of shouting and even some swears broke his concentration. Shocked, Ryan quickly decided to creep across the landing to listen. After all, it was his job to help protect the family.

He was crushed when he heard his mother crying, threatening to kick his father out of the house if he ever dared to see the horses again. He was shocked to hear her so angry, so hurt. The pain in her voice was so clear, so cutting. He wasn't sure what was so bad about his father looking at the horses or the mysterious papers he had tried to keep hidden, but he was furious at his father for hurting his mother.

He had gone to bed that night worried and concerned for his mother. The next morning, he snuck downstairs at daybreak and had a look for himself. The papers lay spread out on the dining room table, covered with the names and numbers of many different horses. He returned silently to his bed, hoping his father would have learned his lesson. Goodness knows Ryan would pay good attention if he were ever to receive such a scolding.

Yet here he was, paper slips in hand, with multiple horses written all over them. He must have seen ALL of the horses...

His father raised his head and looked at him as the knocking continued, his eyes desperate and pleading. Ryan shook his head as he scowled back, his eyes begging his father to explain.

How could he do this? Even Ryan had been careful not to upset his mother after that fateful night - bowing his head and looking at the floor every time they drove past a field with even a single horse in it. Which proved a difficult task since they lived in the countryside.

The knocking had turned to tapping on the window. He was sure the people in the garden knew they were hiding. He raised himself up to peek over the edge but his father pulled him back down, shaking his head sternly.

Ryan huffed with frustration as his mouth fell open at his father's behaviour. Mother was going to be so upset.

Ryan's disappointment was obvious as his father turned towards him and took his hand in both of his. His sad eyes pleaded as they begged him not to tell. To keep it his secret. Ryan's eyes overflowed as a single warm tear caressed his cheek. He definitely didn’t want to lie to his mother. He wasn’t sure if he even could.

His father cocked his head to his side, silently asking him what would be the point. Ryan envisioned his mother shouting and screaming, throwing things at his father as she pushed him out of the door and into the night, sobbing uncontrollably.

His chest deflated. He shook his head in defeat as he looked at the floor. He heard a muffled voice in the garden but he couldn't make out what was being said through the double glazing. The voice sounded fed up and angry. Ryan wondered what it was they were so cross about. Had his father seen their horses too? How many had he looked at? For how long?

They sat in silence and refused to look at each other as the person outside walked the length of the house, pacing the garden impatiently. Suddenly, the tapping on the window restarted, louder than before, more ferocious. Ryan held his breath as he imagined twenty pairs of hands on the window, desperate to break the glass and get in. His dad began clicking his fingers to get his attention. He looked over at his father's sad eyes, who turned a hand upside down and wiggled his fingers; rain.

Ryan let out a shaky breath. Eventually, the sound of a fed-up voice carried into the kitchen, followed by the scraping of heavy boots on the patio outside, leaving the same way they had come as the garden gate creaked closed.

Ryan didn’t move as he watched the stress leave his father in waves. After a few minutes, his dad sighed heavily before slapping his knees and standing up.

He offered his hand to Ryan, who hesitated. His father showed no remorse. Ryan searched his face for signs of any sign of embarrassment or regret as he reluctantly took his hand and let him help him to his feet. Ryan studied his face - nothing. His father opened his mouth, no doubtably to explain, but Ryan had no time for excuses. There was no excuse good enough for hurting his mother’s feelings. Especially for the sake of watching stupid horses! Ryan pushed past him and stormed back into the living room to finish his drawing on the floor.