Chapter 2: Strong Enough

Well, here we go again. Father had just gotten the word back from the branch working on Project Andromeda, and he was throwing a fit. Again. Of course, he didn't tell me that. I just knew from his body language when it was about Project Andromeda.

He always had a kind of attitude when it came to Project Andromeda. It's not like he was that great of a parent normally, but whenever it came up, he was much worse than his usual display. He was always aiming for the face when he beat me over it. I'd been given two black eyes, a bloody nose, a split lip, and coughed up blood this time. I was surprised he didn't put me through worse than that. I was only in the hospital for two days instead of the usual fourteen. Father had lied about what happened, of course. This time, I apparently fell down the stairs. Yeah, sure.

I didn't bother to speak up, though. It'd just make life worse for me when I went back to that house. After what happened last time, I was not going through that again. One beating was enough for now.

But if you thought Father was done with me for two days, then you've never met him. If Father was anything when it came to his goals, it was impatient. And that included training his heir to Team Rocket's throne.

All throughout my stay there, he'd keep trying to convince me that I'd only go through worse as the head of Team Rocket. But that was when no one was around. He quickly changed his tune to say that I'd inherit his position as Viridian City Gym Leader if any nurses or doctors were in. But the moment they left, it was "Team Rocket" this and "Team Rocket" that. Maybe he intended for me to have both roles, like him. Or was he just saying that to save face? Was it both? It's impossible to tell with Father. But, of course, I believed him. What else are you supposed to do? When you're five, every adult in your life is always trying to help you and is always telling you the truth in your eyes. Father's only abusing you because he's trying to train you for your future job! It's not that he doesn't actually care about you or is just a violent sociopath!

So, of course, I did what many a five-year-old does. I latched on to every word he said like it was the absolute truth. If I was going to be my father's child, I had to be able to handle worse than what he was throwing at me. I needed to be strong! I needed to be a stronger man! And Father was going to help me with that.

Or, at least, that's what I was supposed to think.

x-x-x

After we got back, Father left me alone for a while. I took this opportunity to finally have some time to myself. Well, as much as I was allowed, anyway. Father could, and usually would, come in whenever he wanted for whatever reason. Looking back, I doubt he'd risk beating me again so soon after we got back, but I was five! I couldn't rationalize that at the time! So I just sat there on my bed, hugging a pillow and trying not to cry. I can only assume I failed miserably, but since Father never did anything about it, I just kept on going. I kept telling myself that I couldn't be doing that, that I needed to be stronger, that I needed to be strong enough to take it!

But did I really need to be?

This was probably the start of something. Remember how I said that at five years old, I couldn't rationalize "damned if you do, damned if you don't?" Well, while there is indeed truth to that claim, that doesn't mean I couldn't make connections. And something clicked that day.

Maybe Father lied about how he was treating me because he was afraid of being punished. I wouldn't blame him there. I would've had to lie if it meant I'd only get screamed at instead of beaten to the floor. So if Father lied about something to get out of being punished, there was probably something wrong with how he was treating me.

Like he was doing something wrong, but he didn't want anyone to know about it.