James was in bed, coughing and sick with fever. His cousin Victor was keeping him company, playing with that knife again
"You' re always sick." Victor said as he cut at his nails.
James coughed. "I can't help it. You know, you shouldn't have that knife out, dad wouldn't like it. What are you doing with it anyway?"
"I'm not doing anything. And he's not my father."
"So? That doesn't matter to him," James said weakly.
He sighed, "Focus on getting stronger."
"I'm trying, it never works," he groaned. Then there was a knock on the door.
Victor hid the knife behind his back.
"Come in," James coughed.
His father entered, "How are you feeling?"
"Not much different."
He noticed Victor. "Hello, Victor," he said, holding out his hand to shake.
"Hello sir," he slipped the knife into his back pocket and shook quickly, "I was keeping James company. If thats alright."
"Yes, that's fine." He went over and made sure his boy was okay.
He sat down and watched.
"It's just a fever," he said, "You'll feel better in the morning."
"You say that every night."
"And somehow you managed to make it through." His dad got up and went to leave. "Oh, Victor, what is it you are hiding in your pocket?"
"Nothing," he said casually.
"If it's nothing, then you can show me," he said, walking closer
He just looked at him, "It's my father's knife." he told him.
"And why are you trying to hide it?"
"NO particular reason, I just can't shake your hand with it in mine."
He nodded, "What are you doing with it in the first place?"
"He gave it to me."
"I don't like you having it in my house" he said, "Especially not around James. Can I hold onto it while you are here?" He held his hand out expectantly.
"I'm not going to stab him with it," he told him, "It can stay in my pocket."
"Victor, you are in my house, you will follow my rules. I'll only ask you one more time, please give it to me." He looked at him sternly.
"With all due respect, sir. I don't see what you're causing yourself stress over."
"And I don't see why you need a knife in the house. I am not stressing over anything. If you can give me a good reason for the knife, I will let you keep it. Frankly, I don't trust you with it."
He just blinked, "What you don't trust me with it? Do you think I'll gut James when you leave?"
"No," he said impatiently, "I think James is fine, my furniture and possessions are in danger. I don't want you scratching anything up. Give it to me."
"I don't need that to scratch them," he said going in his pocket and handing it to him.
"And what do you mean by that?" he asked as he took it.
"Nothing, sir," he sighed sitting down. Putting his hands in his pockets.
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you being fresh with me?"
"Not at all,"
"Are you hiding something else in your pockets?" he asked suspiciously.
"No," he said.
"Then why'd you put your hands back in them?"
"Because I have nothing to hold now."
"Take your hands out," he said.
he just looked at the man, "Theres nothing in my pockets to alarm you."
"Then you won't mind if I check. Take your hands out," he said
He took his hands out, pulling his pockets, "Nothing."
He sighed, "Alright then, but lose the attitude."
"I don't have an attitude, sir. You're checking me without proper reason."
"I do have proper reason. You had a knife in my house, and I have a right to question it."
"Question, yes. Take it, I see no right. If my father found it fit to give it to me then you're under mining him."
"And you are in my house, so I have the right. Now I won't stand for any more backtalk, that is disrespect."
"YOU disrespected me first."
"Don't forget your place," he said sternly, "You are still but a boy."
He stared up at the man, "A boy I may be but I still deserve respect."
"Then you must earn it," he said, annoyed, "Now stop using that tone with me, or you will regret it."
"I'm not using any tone. You're the one getting loud with me." he said, "And I don't think it's good for Jame's health."
"You don't tell me what's good with James' health," he said evenly, taking hold of his arm and pulling him up. "But since you're so concerned, we can discuss this elsewhere." He dragged him out of the room, taking him to a spare bedroom.
Victor grunted as he was dragged.
He pushed him into a room and closed the door, locking it. "I'll teach you to respect me," he said as he sat on the bed and pulled him over his lap.
Victor grunted and kicked, "Let me up!"
"Not until you curb that tongue." He pulled down his pants and underpants, then swatted him hard on the thigh.
He just grunted through gritted teeth.
He kept swatting him at a fast pace, not easing up.
Victor had such a stubborn personality that he refused to cry out.
He spanked him for three minutes. "Are you going to respect your elders?" he asked as he hit the sit spots.
"Yes, sir," he said through gritted teeth
"I'm sorry, what was that?" he asked, hitting him slightly harder.
"Yes, sir," he said opening his mouth.
"Good," he said, "We're almost done then." He wanted to get a few tears from him to make sure he really got the point. He began to hit only in one spot.
Victor bit his lip and pushed with his feet.
Mr. Logan ignored the pushing and kept hitting that one spot. He would be breaking soon.
He groaned and twisted.
"Stay still," he said as he continued.
He growled lightly.
He kept going for another minute, then decided he'd had enough. He stopped and rubbed his back, "All right, it's over now."
Victor just gave labored breathing from trying not to cry.
He waited until the breathing slowed down, then pulled his pants up for him. "You can go back to see James now if you like."
He climbed off and rubbed his bottom as he walked back to his 'cousin's' room.
James had another coughing fit. He had heard the beating from his room, the walls were a little thin. He hoped his cousin was okay.