Dean always knew he was in trouble when dad came into his room smelling of whiskey and pre come. He buried his face into the pillow and pretended to be asleep. John only raped Sammy once or twice a week because of his age. While Dean was happy that his brother was often spared, he wished John's rape rage could be distributed a little more evenly among his boys.
"Dean," John slurred. "I've got something for you to hunt."
Dean could no longer feign sleep and began to sob.
"Y-y-y-yes sir," Dean stuttered, choking back his tears.
Dean found the best way to deal with the rapings was to think of more pleasant things. The young man imagined himself in a chocolate factory; cramming treat after treat into his chubby cheeks.
Before he knew it, John had fallen asleep on the floor of the hotel and Dean cried himself to sleep once again.