I tried to confront Dad.
Maybe I was just being…I don't know, paranoid.
Dad wasn't part of the L.M…that was Callum McGregor…Persephone…Jude…Callie Rose.
Not us.
Dad got home late that night. I had slammed the door shut. I didn't read the file. I couldn't. The truth would hurt. But I already knew what I would find.
The L.M had rubbed off Mum's family onto Dad. There would be no point in denying it.
Our cushy upper class Cross lifestyle was funded by betraying our race to blankers.
Fuck dad. Fuck mum's family. Fuck Mum. She probably already knew.
How long had I been the only one to not know?
I'm old enough to be part of it. So when is the age barrier for being a part of the family?
Stuff this.
The following morning I find myself at the breakfast table, opposite my father.
Ha.
Callie goddamn Rose may think its hard for her, not finding out about her bastard father until she got to what…13?
At least she doesn't have to live looking at his face.
"Dad…I…er…" I tried to say. He looked at me with frosted eyes and said, "Yes?"
No "Yes, son," just….Yes.
"Well…yesterday…" I just couldn't say it. How would he react?
"Is this important? I've got a busy day ahead," Dad said.
The silence echoed throughout the room. I knew so much. I couldn't just not tell him. I had to say something! How dare he bring me up being a happy Cross, when the entire time he was working for them! Not with them. FOR THEM. Words, coming up my throat like puke, thick and fast – I just couldn't stop it-
"Yeah, working for blankers," I said.
Dads face dropped a metre.
He stood up, placing his hands menacingly on the table, one fisted, the other spread out.
He pushed his half empty bowl of weetabix to the side, leaning over the table.
"You went into my office, didn't you," he said. It was not a question, "DID'NT YOU! ANSWER ME YOU UNGRATEFUL BASTARD!"
So quickly, he pounced. Over the table – on top of me.
His knee was on my chest, one hand over my throat, the other pounding my neck.
For minites I didn't respond. I was…so peaceful.
Then an entirely new rage came over me.
"YOU LYING ASSHOLE!" I screamed, biting his hand so hard, I could taste salty red blood…but I wasn't sure whether it was mine or his.
He gasped in pain, but continued punching me.
My father had always been a violent man, I knew that. Many times I had seen him kick or slap my mother for disobeying him.
At that moment, Mum came rushing in, screaming.
"Get off my son!" She screamed at Dad.
Dad continued.
"Leave me be, you dirty whore!" Dad yelled back at her.
What happened next was so fast.
In my mind it happened silently. The L.M had never actually been mentioned…which meant Dad knew exactly what I meant when I said he worked for blankers.
I saw the crashing of a bowl…the slow falling of a soggy, half eaten weetabix…then blood…so much blood.
Dad fell to one side and I felt my mothers hand around mine.
She pulled me up, and put her arm around my shoulders.
"Taj," she said, stroking my bleeding face, with love only a mother could, "We're going away for a while."
And just like that, we left my Dad. No bags, no nothing.
Just cautious glances as we left him bleeding on the kitchen floor.
