REASON NUMBER THREE

My son is dead to me…my son is dead

Vern knew what he wanted his youngest son to do, having him around was a constant source of anxiety and Vern couldn't afford that sort of weakness. Andy clearly wasn't old enough or smart enough to take care of himself, taking comfort from fucking Bitcher of all people and when his own blood, his own father had offered him comfort he had attacked him!

Of course he hit Andy when Andy lashed out because it was a kid having a tantrum, hell, it was like any other family situation. Andy wanted to play with friends his dad didn't like and Vern said no, just like any loving father would do when he knew his son was in danger and what had Andy done? Bitched and whined, (like any normal teenager), and then Vern had reprimanded him (like any normal father) so he had criticized Vern's friends and beliefs…if he had stopped his bratty little hissy fit for a minute Vern would've explained that Vern was a grown man and had lived enough to make his own decisions and part of his duties as a father was to protect Andy until he was mature and grown enough to make his own but renouncing his father and his beliefs in front of the brotherhood was unacceptable, he must regain his power and so he hit Andy and it broke his heart the way it did to hit him as a child.

He knew Andy was softer than Hank, shy and sweet as a little boy. He bruised and sunburned so easily and was much happier sat in his mothers lap being kissed and petted like a lapdog than fighting or playing guns with Hank. Vern had sensed that weakness and knew what it meant for Andrew's future so he tried to toughen him up, tried to clear some of that cotton wool and glitter off his eyes.

All those nights he lay awake worrying in Lardner and this craphole, all his sacrifice, struggles and all the love and pride he felt for Andy and this was how he was repaid?

"Hello Andrew" Vern walked inside, looking at his boy, hunched up in a corner, blue from cold.

Part of Vern screaming to wrap the naked body in a blanket, to hold Andy to his own body to warm him, he walked over and sat beside him, he found his arm working on it's own, traitorously wrapping around his son, pulling him close (and for a real reason, why couldn't Andy see that? Unlike Bitcher and the other two, the attention Vern showed him was real, no selfish motives there) still angry at his arm that betrayed him Vern was doubly pissed when his head turned to kiss Andy on his forehead, he felt the slowly warming body (a body he had helped make and had watched appear like magic) shake with sobs, not the whiny crying that made Vern mad but wracking sobs from his soul.

For a moment, Vern stopped being the AB leader, the man that was feared and the ruiner of Beecher, Keller and countless others, for a moment he wasn't anyone other than a father, the kind he wished he could've been all Andy's life

He squeezed Andy's shoulder and pressed his lips to his hair, inhaling the smell that triggered memories of a chubby toddler taking his first steps and clapping his hands in joy, hearing that tiny voice murmur "Dada", Christmas day, birthday cakes, Martha's funeral, smashing the head of that fucking nigger, and in that moment Vern couldn't go through with it, he'd apologize to Beecher, kill Chris, threaten O'Reily anything it took just to keep his son.

Getting to his knees he spun Andrew around to face him, looking at the face (so like Martha's) about to spill his guts again, ask to be a family, but he frowned instead feeling a wave of nausea as he realized that Andy was tugging on Vern's pants, unzipping them and pulling out Vern's dick, he grabbed the pale wrist"What the fuck are you doing?"

"What you want" Andy said in a small voice "What Hank used to do, right?"

Vern was speechless, it looked alien and foreign, despite all the different body parts from awful people that Vern had had wrapped round his dick this was the worst, most disgusting. A perversion of all that was right, Andy's breath was warm as it caught before he swallowed the length of his father, his tongue working in a horribly educated way. Vern grabbed Andy by his hair and slammed him to the floor,

"Get off me" Numb with fear and pain and nausea Vern stormed to the door on legs that felt like stilts

Andy watched with tears running down his face, "Daddy, please, please don't go. I love you, please, please, PLEASE!"

Vern slammed the door, still frozen in shock

He walked off hearing the pain, sorrow and anguish filling his son's wails

"I love you, Andrew. You're my little boy and I love you but you're safer dead" he thought. With a heart that felt like a stone, eyes stinging with tears he couldn't shed, Vern handed the heroin to Lopresti

"See my kid gets this, wait til he calms down"

Lopresti nodded taking the tits and the money and tucking both into his pocket

As Vern started back to his cell with lead feet, so many thoughts all jumbled together in his mind, so many times he wanted to run back to Lopresti, to Andrew, to save him. He thought of Andy laying in that filthy, stone room, cold, lonely, hungry, thirsty, all of the things Vern was supposed to protect him from and he bit down on his fist til his knuckles bled. The lump in his throat felt like a boulder but he forced his feet one over the other, slow and steady. Vern knew what needed to be done, Andrew was a liability. Andy had always felt more pain as a child, bled more, he was sick more, cried longer, hugged harder and needed so much more….well….in his own way, Vern reasoned, he had helped Andy more than anyone ever could.

Cell block B's gate loomed up, Vern took a breath to compose himself and blinked, wiping one tear that just wouldn't fuck off

"There you go, son", he thought as the gate was opened "You'll never hurt again"