I admit I was flying high on our plan to steal the Methylamine. Granted it had been Jesse's idea, what I was the one that was laying out the blueprints of our plan. And it was genius, risky; but well worth it. I also admit my ego had been stroked considerably that day, both by Jesse and Todd as we were beginning our preparations. But why shouldn't it? It was my plans, my territory, my meth. I would be damned proud of it. I was riding this high as I entered my home this evening, but instead of sharing my celebration I was met with Skyler begging for Junior to open his bedroom door. Now obviously something was wrong here, he was supposed to be at Hank and Marie's, much to my chagrin. Yet here he was, and he was making his thoughts on staying well known.
"What's wrong?" I had mouthed to Skyler as I made my way down our hall. She had only tiredly replied, "You've got what you wanted, congratulations." She barely even looked at me as she walked back to the living room. This is what my anger started to build on, I had come home in a celebratory mood and this is what I get instead? Not in my house.
I paused for a moment to collect my thoughts, and made my way to Junior's door. I rapped my knuckles against it
"It's me open up." Not a question, a demand. One that Junior, my son was supposed to respect me, was ignoring.
"Come on Junior I'm not going to ask twice." A warning this time, one he had better heed.
It appears his sense came to him and he opened his door, no doubt responding to my tone now. I softened a bit when I seen him, I have always had a soft spot for Junior; often letting him get away with more than I should. But Walter White was not here right now, this was Heisenberg. And Heisenberg did not tolerate disrespect.
"What?" He asked.
"You know what."
He began asking questions about why he was being forced to stay at his aunt and uncle's, and for this Walter White answered. The loving father who was truly trying to get son to understand he was loved by him and his mother, they just needed some time alone.
"Y-you haven't explained jack shit! You want me out? Explain to me why, or I'm not going anywhere."
He cussed at me. My son actually just cussed at me, and openly defied me. I glanced away, trying to cool my anger. This was my son, and he was a teenager. Outburst are bound to happen. He then tried to shut his door in my face, I easily held it open my hand.
"This is not going to be a debate." My tone was much harsher now, I could tell that Junior was not expecting this. Before when a door was slammed Walter would walk away and let his son have his way without so much as a talking to or scolding the next day for it. But as I said, Walter was not entirely here right now, and I do not abide by disrespect. Junior continued to ask his questions, and I patiently waited from him to finish before I answered.
"Because we're your parents and your our child, that's reason enough now please do as I ask."
He continued to stand in his room, his look a mixture of defiance, anger and sadness. But he was not moving. One more warning I decided, one more.
"Now." Flat and authoritative, surely this he would respond to, being taken off guard at his soft old man being a hard ass. He glanced down at the ground and then back up at me, shaking his head softly.
"N-no dad, I'm staying." He moved to close the door again, and this is when I moved myself forward into his room, being mindful of his crutches so he would not lose balance. He moved backward to let me in, I closed the door and locked it behind me. This would not do at all, my authority was not going to be questioned or undermined, not even by Junior; who I would say I love the most. I looked around his room, deciding where would be the best place to carry this out. I would not be cruel and have him position himself where he would not be able, this was just about sending a message about my authority, not cruelty. His bed would be the best place, for him and me.
Junior was looking at me expectantly, probably thinking I was coming in to have a talk with him as we had one so many times before. I sat down on the edge of his bed, and undid the clasp of the thin belt I always wore. Juniors' eye's widened in uncertainty, after all I have never laid a hand to him. The only time I have been physical with him were moments of affection, a kiss on his cheek or an arm wrapped around his shoulders. I pointed at a spot in front of me with the belt doubled in my hand.
"Come here son."
He took in a shaky breath; his eyes were already gathering tears. The boy was soft natured, it would not take much to get my point across.
"D-dad I'm sorry, I-ll'l leave, please I'll go."
Walter's heart ached at seeing his child plead to him with tears rolling down his face, but yet again Heinsberg stepped in, this was his lesson to teach. He pointed at the spot in front of him again, and said even sterner,
"Now. If I have to make you come over here you will only make it worse."
His lips trembled but he obeyed, making the few careful steps to me. When Junior was in front of me, I stood, he had his head hanging low refusing to look at me. I gently lifted his chin up toward me so he would be forced to look at me.
"When I tell you to do something Junior you are to do it. No arguing. No back talk. Now I do take some responsibility for this, for years I have been easy on you. But I am your father, and what I say goes. Understood?"
He nodded his understanding, but refused to speak. That was okay, I was not going to push this much further, I would accept that. I sat down on the bed and motioned for Junior to do the same. I made sure he had plenty of room to lower himself down. When he was seated I helped him to place his crutches propped against the wall by his bed where he always put them at night. I then gripped his upper arm, and helped him to position himself over my lap. His torso was laying on his bed, while his bottom was across my knees. I placed my left hand to the middle of his back to help steady him. I could feel his body shake as he sobbed into the sheets, burrowing his face into them to quiet the sound.
I lifted the belt into the air and brought it down across his sit spots. I lifted it again and brought it down a second time. Again a third time, this time higher up than where I had previously struck. And again, the only sound in the room was his sobbing, and the smack of my belt against his jeans. I made the same track, sit spots and then up. I brought it down on the back of his thighs; once, twice, three, four times. His entire body was shaking with his sobs. Another thought occurred to me; his jeans were providing too much of a barrier. How was this getting a point across if it was not really being made to get across? Without a word I laid the belt onto the bed, and reached around his front to unbutton his jeans. After getting them undone I pulled them down to his ankles, leaving him in red boxer shorts. After a moment of deliberation, I pulled them down too, leaving him bare from the waist down. I could hear Junior attempt to say something in between his sobs that was unintelligible. Looking over his son was when Walter came fully back, his Heisenberg persona pushed to the back of his mind when he seen what he had done.
Oh my God. Oh Jesus. What did I do? What did I just do to my boy? My heart was racing now, and I began to feel beads of sweat. From the back of his thighs to the top of his bottom was tomato red with white welts already beginning to form along his sit spots. Shame and bile rose to my throat, I felt like I was going to vomit. Had I really just beat my son? My disabled son? Oh my God. I could feel tears form in my eyes, my heart continued to race in my chest. The belt was still laying beside me on his bed, I flung it across the room. My mouth now dry I pulled his boxers back up and worked his jeans off his feet. He never lifted his head from his bed or made any type of protest. I gripped him under his arms and brought him to sitting on the bed beside me. He was refusing to look at me, his face red and blotchy with tears still pouring from his eyes. He still did not say anything but lifted his arms up to my shoulders. I helped him as he embraced me, burrowing his face into my shoulder as he cried. I held him tight with one arm while rubbing circles onto his back with my other.
"I'm so sorry buddy. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of that I am so sorry. That wasn't me I'm sorry. "
I kept repeating I was sorry, I knew nothing else to say to him that could make this right. There was nothing to say. I had terrorized, humiliated, and then beat my disabled child who could not even get away from me. The bile rose in my throat again, I deserved to drown in it. I kissed the top of his head, he was still buried in my shoulder with his arms wrapped around me. He was trying to say something, but him being upset was making his stutter worse and his words were impossible to form. I strained to hear what he was saying, and when I made it out my heart sunk even lower. He was apologizing to me.
"You have nothing to be sorry for Junior, I'm the one who is sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for."
I counted to rock him as he cried in my arms, absolutely traumatized by what I had just done. I hoped he never forgave me for this. Heisenberg can never come back into this house; he can never be around my children. His ruthlessness on the street was rewarding, but not in the home. Never again would I let my guard down around my children. I did not care who Heisenberg hurt on the streets, but my children were off limits. I will never allow him to come through again in my home. Never.
THE END
