"Where is he?" His father demanded. He was large man, well over six foot and he towered over his eleven year old son who was slumped on the couch watching television. He had gotten off from work and had not yet changed out of his uniform. The light from the evening sun caught of his badge and cast its reflection on the far wall.
"Who?" Drake asked, not even bothering to look up from the program he was watching. It was just about to get to his favorite part in the movie, where the disfigured freak stabbed his victim in the eye with a knitting needle. The tiny points of light moved as his grabbed hold of his son's arm and yanked him into an upright position.
"You know damn well who I mean!" The words where spat out less than a foot from his son's face and the grip on the arm increased. Drake frowned, not from pain, but because his view of the television was now blocked. He could hear the screams of the woman but could no longer see her and his frown twisted into a scowl as he glared at his father. He was angrier than he had seen him in a while, even angrier than last week when his aunt had come over with his birthday present. He knew that meant only one outcome. The only question was, how many days would it be before he could walk straight?
If anything though, Drake's glare lessened and there was even a hint of a smile as he met his father's gaze.
"Oh, you mean Sampson." He replied in a tone completely out of place with the rising tension in the room. Sampson had been his birthday present and the cause of his father's anger at his aunt.
The force of his father's slap jerked his head sideways. His vision swam and he could feel blood trickle down his from his bottom lip. He didn't cry out though, just looked up at his father whose face was still a mask of rage.
"What did you do with him?" Came the demand. The fingers dug in even more around his arm and still Drake did not give even the tiniest indication of pain. In fact his split lips drew upwards even more. His eyes grew wide, not with pain or fear, but amusement.
"Maybe he ran away. I haven't seen him since this morning." Came the calm response as the lips tugged up even higher. The next blow was with the back of his hand and it was the first of many. Drake made no move to stop his father. In fact, he made no move to even try and defend him from the onslaught of blows. Afterward, he just sat on the couch, watching the rest of his movie after it was over.
Drake knew it would be a full week before he was able to walk upright again. He knew it would be another week out of school until the bruises healed enough for the school not to be so suspicious Still, the grin never left Drake's face. In fact, he even showed teeth when he heard the ding of the microwave. His father had no idea, none at all, as to what happened. If he did, he never would have eaten out of the microwave. He would have never even wanted it in the house. They never would find Sampson.