Chapter 36: Payback is a bitch: Part 1
Oh no, what is Daddy Dixon going to do? Can he go through with the ultimate punishment? This is the first time we use Daryl's POV because this chapter is so important that it is better that he tells it in his own words. Warnings apply – depictions and threats of past and present child sexual and physical abuse, incest and rape. Extremely harrowing and gritty. It may be too much for some people so please don't read if you may be triggered by these themes.
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Daryl
Fuck, I knew I was in deep shit as soon as Dad answered the door. Pissed. I could almost see smoke steaming out of his nostrils. Damn, I'd been so fuckin' starving and still was. Money was tight and we needed to go on a hunt or Merle needed to find work but he told me that it was slim pickings in both at the moment. Of course, my brother ran off and left me caught red-handed when the cops turned up but he would never have done that unless he thought I'd clocked them too. Damn! I was such an idiot! I had been too busy keeping an eye out for the mean-looking new cashier at our local store. Not to mention, too hungry to pay attention to what was going on outside.
I quickly stepped out of the shower, my stomach growling with hunger pangs knowing that showering was usually one of the many things that annoyed him. Even if it was a quick one, he considered that we were wasting the hot water, stupid bastard. Wasn't like he ever paid the bills.
Putting on my boxers and a bathrobe that had seen better days, I dragged my feet reluctantly to where he was most likely to be, thinking that the quicker I faced the music, the quicker the beating or whatever punishment he decided fit my crime would be over. I guessed that he would be in front of the refrigerator, grabbing his eighth beer of the day. Funny how he still had money for booze but none to feed us. Had he already started on the whiskey yet? That would be a bad sign – he was more likely to get the knife out if he had already been on the hard stuff.
I sighed and forced down the lump in my throat that made it difficult to breathe and suddenly my hunger vanished.
I knew I was playing with fire, but I couldn't stand the way he stared at me, bewilderment in his eyes, verging on…was that amusement?
'Dad?'
But as soon as I spoke, anything remotely close to levity in his expression faded away faster than you could say 'Hi'. He immediately rounded on me, complete with his blood-freezing, deadly glare. He seemed oddly sober for him at 1 o'clock on a Sunday afternoon as he stepped closer to me before he looked down at me with an icy stare.
'Dad – I'm sorry…' I started to gabble nervously.
His voice was disdainful and a couple degrees colder than usual when he surprised me again. No slurred speech. Maybe this time wouldn't be so bad after all?
'Sorry for what? For doin' it in the first place or for gettin' caught?'
'For both! It was only a couple of sandwiches and chocolate bars! We were hungry and you ain't…' I nearly shot myself in the foot.
'I ain't …what, boy?' His voice grew even more ominously cold.
'Nothin'.' I looked down at the ground, bracing for the inevitable onslaught of blows.
But none came.
'Well?'
Confused I shook my head silently, not knowing the right answer that would make him least angry. Probably there wasn't one.
'Speak up, boy.'
'Jus' sayin'…We ain't got no money for food and everythin' happened so fast, I didn't see those bastard cops. They were hangin' round outside, doggin' us like always!'
Tilting my face up, he forced me to look at him and all I could see was a pair of emotionless sky-blue eyes, identical in color to my own.
'Ya fucked up, boy! Ya really…' He snarled taking a mouthful of beer, swallowing it while his fingers tightened around my chin. His breath stank like the rest of him and he was still in the faded, filthy white string vest and shorts that had also seen better days that he'd taken to wearing for a couple of days now. He was disgusting but I did my best to conceal my revulsion.
'I know!' I fired back. 'We didn't have no other choice!'
'What did I tell ya 'bout interruptin' me?' His grip on my chin loosened. His thumb travelled to my lower lip, tracing its shape.
It was fuckin' freakin' me out, the weird way he was touching me. I'd rather he just got on with the beating or whatever he had in store for me.
I had no idea what was to come. Even the creepy caresses didn't alert me.
I frowned in confusion yet again. I started to stupidly back away as he kept on advancing on me with his thumb still on my lips. He parted them slightly, with a smirk curling his own. Why wouldn't he let them go? 'Ya should really know better by now, than to disappoint me, Daryl.' He sighed as if I had really hurt him even as his voice grew soft.
'I didn't do it on purpose, Dad.'
'And what did Merle do? Stand outside smokin' his cigarette while he made ya do his dirty work? A real good brother he is to ya, huh?'
I hated it when he talked shit about my brother.
'It wasn't like that, he was keepin' lookout outside! It wasn't…'
Finally, a hard blow with the back of his hand startled me into silence. I moved my hand from the edge of the kitchen chair, which I was more or less leaning against, to my now burning cheek.
'Idiot, weren't ya listenin' before? Wait 'til I'm finished.' He moved closer to me and I retreated instinctively.
I didn't realize how close I was to the wall until my back was against it. Legs slightly shaking, lips trembling, heart pumping hard in my chest. He smiled at me then but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out: 'I'm sorry! I'll do anythin' to fix it!'
He arched one eyebrow at me and seemed to consider my words as he made a 'stay' motion with his hand, like I was a fucking dog. It wasn't a joke, though. If you moved after he specifically told you not to, you were in for a living hell. He fiddled with his belt buckle, which made me immediately tense up in alarm. My stupid big brother was probably drunk in some dive somewhere by now despite having no money. Merle was always OK., screw him. Silently I cursed him, for not being here and leaving me to face our father alone.
Dad popped a new beer, downing its contents in less than ten seconds. Tossing it aside, he went back to invading my space again. Clearly enjoying himself.
'I don't give a shit what you did but what matters to me, is that you were brought here by a cop, Daryl.'
He grabbed my arm roughly and half-dragged me into the living room. 'No doubt some of the nosy cunts around here saw that.'
He thankfully moved away from me to pull down the blinds and I was left wondering why he did that. But he was soon back again with his hateful trademark smug grin.
I forced myself to stay quiet once my eyes met his. Something unfamiliar came over them but I couldn't identify the emotion. Then he immediately went back to what he'd done earlier, exploring my lips with his finger as he backed me up against the large living room table, which was his pride and joy. The only piece of nice furniture in our home that he had inherited from his Mama. It had a thick glass-surface.
When he reached it, he leaned over me, forcing me to draw back to avoid him as best as I could. His smile grew even wider, and pinning me there, he let his cheek rest against mine. He'd always touched me a lot affectionately when he wasn't hurting me but something about this made my skin crawl.
His fetid breath tickled my ear as he breathed out, 'Did ya mean it when ya said ya'll do anythin' to make things right? Anything I want, son?'
'Yeah, I said so, didn't I?' I answered naively without a clue of what he would make me do. How could I have known? Even with the creepy way he was touching me, I remained innocent.
He grinned happily and I was stupid enough to imagine that I was off the hook. No beating or cutting, anyway.
How wrong I was.
'Then I'll give ya three chances to back out on whatever I want ya to do, then. Only three, no more. no less. Ya won't be able to change my mind once ya used up all three. Do we understand each other?'
I nodded again but that wasn't enough for him.
'Speak up, boy! You give your consent?'
What was consent?
'Yes, I understand.'
So, you agree? And I'll give ya three chances to back out.' He licked his lips hungrily like a wolf.
Now I was really worried, not to mention, confused. This wasn't the usual routine when you were waiting for him to finally lose it and beat you into a bloody pulp like he normally did. This was something else entirely and I was already regretting my hasty words. The hair on my arms and neck stood up as I watched the otherwise bright blue eyes turn into a darker shade of twilight.
'Ya a Dixon, ain't ya, son?'
I nodded with a frown, trying to grasp where he was going with all of this, but failed. Giving up on ever understanding his motives, I did what I could which was getting as much space between us as possible. But I stopped once I noticed how pissed that made him. So, I settled on shifting to get myself more comfortable. Well, as comfortable as you could be with a table-edge digging its way into the small of your back.
But anything – even that - was better than being near him and his alcohol-drenched, stinky unwashed stench.
'I ain't gonna tell ya all the rules, or the traps – call them red herrings. That would spoil all of the fun we're about to have.'
I winced at the tone in his voice. Wishing him back to normal – even beating me bloody rather than this weird, creepy Dad. Had he sampled some of the potent shit Merle was always leaving around? Clearly something was really wrong with him. For all I cared he could beat the shit out of me, threatening me with that damned knife of his, even. Anything but this unknown territory. I didn't recognize him, and living under the same roof with your abusive dad this long, that was a pretty scary realization to make.
'What ya wearin' under that bathrobe of yours?' He looked at me up and down lingeringly as I trembled in fear. 'Ya look different, boy. In a good way, I must say.' He almost crooned at me.
Why the hell was he saying this shit to me? Now he sounded like Merle did when he was trying to chat up one of the meth skanks at the local bar. I cursed myself, staring at the floor.
'Just my boxers.' Why the fuck did he want to know that?
His grin held some emotion that I couldn't or rather dared not – interpret. 'Such a bad boy...' He sighed again like this hurt him.
'…who needs to be punished.' He mumbled the last sentence under his breath so quietly I almost didn't hear him.
But I did, wondering why the hell he was looking at me in that way?
'Strip.' He ordered abruptly.
My jaw dropped. 'What?'
'Come on, son. Daddy ain't gonna hurt ya.' He encouraged me gently as he walked over to the couch, sitting down on the far end. Making room to spread his legs.
I almost laughed nervously then.
He sat there, never once taking his eyes off me. Taking me all in greedily with his glinting eyes.
But I didn't understand his look. Not then. 'Cos Merle was always teasing me for my lack of experience in that particular area when I knew he'd been out fuckin anything that moved since he was 13.
'Ya gotta fuck a girl someday -can't stay a virgin all ya life. Besides, once ya know how good it feels, ya won't ever wanna stop.' He'd laughed dirtily at that.
'Fuck off, bro.' I angrily shook his arm off from around my shoulders.' I ain't like you. Ain't interested in the type of girls you hook up with. Don't want none of ya ugly, diseased skanks.'
I hadn't meant to sound arrogant or like I thought I was better than him but he only rubbed my arm and grinned instead of getting annoyed.
'Cos I was holding out for something better. Holding out for someone better. Getting out of this shit hole for a start, as soon as I was old enough.
'Littl' sweet Darlena', my brother always called me, mocking me for my innocence.
'Ya heard me.' Dad barked, bringing me back to the torturous present. The change in his eyes went from being amused to a stern look, telling me that he wasn't kidding – that it wasn't some sick joke to scare the shit out of me.
'Remove ya robe slowly. Since I don't think it's a big deal, I'll split this into half a chance. Care to take it, or do ya give up?' Why was he telling me to do this? And to do it 'slowly'? I didn't understand.
'What happens if I decide to back out?'
'Oh, ya wouldn't want that. If ya do, I'll pass this opportunity to punish ya and give ya to someone else to punish any way he thinks fit. The penalty will be worse the earlier you chicken out.'
What the fuck is he talking about? Give me to who? What 'penalty'? Trying to get my head around all this and trying to understand the options he was giving me, I stubbornly stared at the floor instead of looking at him. But like he said, taking off your robe wasn't a big thing, so I shook my head and let the robe slide off my shoulders. Did it slowly like ordered, feeling stupid. But it got stuck at my hips and I bit my tongue when I heard his breathing suddenly change. Why was he panting like that? I could hear him unzip his pants too, panic making me hold onto my robe, preventing it from slipping down any further.
I suddenly felt dirty, I felt ashamed but I didn't know why.
'Don't stop, or ya'll regret it, I promise ya. Tell me if you're giving up, boy.'
I was too proud to stop and take back what I said earlier. 'Cos Dixons never backed away from a challenge or a fight. Dixons never gave up and they never broke a promise. This felt so horribly wrong but I had brought trouble to his door and I needed punishing. So instead of resisting, I stubbornly let the damn robe slip out of my fingers, along with the opportunity of backing out from this.
'Boxers too, Daryl.'
'What? Why?'
'Just do it! Every question you ask counts as half a chance.' He snapped.
He let me turn my back but taking off my boxers, however, was too much and they slowly met the floor along with my hope. Meanwhile I heard a rustling and the sound of metal clinking. I couldn't even bring myself to think what this meant or look back to see what he was doing.
I felt a new wave of shame wash over me as I finally stood naked in front of my father. But I stubbornly faced away from him. He wasn't satisfied with that, of course.
'Good boy, now, face me.' He praised. Swallowing so hard it hurt, I did as I was told and I wasn't surprised to see that he had shrugged himself out of his clothes and that they lay in a puddle on the carpet in front of him. Yet he was covering his nakedness with his hands.
He gave me a big grin as with a flourish, he swished his hands away so I could see. My heart shot up into my throat once I saw his erection and hastily looked away. 'Dad...Wha...' I hated myself for my shaking hands, hoping desperately that he wouldn't notice. If he did, he hid it well.
'Remember what I told you?'
'Don't make me do nothin', please, Dad.'
His expression softened. 'It's okay, come here, I just need a hand is all.' His tone became oily, almost caressing me with his words.
When I didn't move from the spot where I was, his impatiently drumming fingers shot out and left a palm-shaped imprint from his stinging slap. But I ignored it. It was nothing compared to what I was used to. Or that I was about to get, apparently.
'Now be a good boy, and don't make me ask ya again. This will turn real ugly if ya don't do what ya told. You agreed, remember?'
I started to take a few steps backwards, not too fast, but still moving away. But when I saw his gloating smile, I knew. I didn't have a chance of getting out of that room before he got what he wanted.
But what did he want? Sighing, I took the few steps needed towards him but suddenly my legs gave way, sinking me to my knees. A knot formed in my stomach, but it was too late to change the stupid kneeling position in which I'd got myself. This is all my fault! I should have backed out earlier – anyone would be better than him!
'Just where I want you. How did you know?' He smiled down at me, gently stroking a few strands of hair out of my eyes and leaned back. 'Chance one, ya give up?'
I was too shocked to reply.
Dad cleared his throat, looking down at me: 'I'll need an answer soon, boy.'
'No?' He pushed when I remained silent. 'Well, get on with it. You know what to do, don't you?'
'Daad…' I hated the childish whine that crept into my voice.
'Only want you to use your hand. Nothin' else. See – ya daddy don't ask for much.' He pointed down to where it had jerked to attention.
When I didn't move, he grew dangerously impatient. 'Enough of the sweet talk. You're old enough and it's time ya learnt how to keep ya old Dad happy.'
He took a deep shuddering breath, full of anticipation and exhaled seconds later, 'Old enough to take this kind of punishment from me.' He added.
Hating it when he called himself that, I tried to psych myself up to do the unthinkable.
Hesitantly, as my cheeks burned with embarrassment, my hand gripped the erection that seemed to be pointed straight at me. If I did this right, maybe he would be proud of me in a sick way?
I had tried making him proud since I was old enough to grasp the meaning of the word. He wasn't always like the raging drunk he'd become. He was nice once – used to take us out on hunting trips. Nowadays he barely left the house except to go to the bar. He taught us how to track game and read the spoor that animals left in the forest but that part of him died when Ma died when I was only 8 so that the only good times I remembered were camping with Dad and Merle when I was small. Toasting marshmallows by the camp fire while he told us ghost stories.
I tried to desperately grasp what was happening, but failed miserably and I jumped when his hand reached out to circle my mouth slowly.
'Yeah, keep doing that. Since ya so willingly got down on ya knees just in the right position in front of me, just like the dirty little slut ya really are, ya might as well use your tongue too.'
I drew back in shock. Had he really called me that? Was asking me to do that?
I pretended that I hadn't heard what he'd said as I desperately worked on his disgusting member to hurry him up. He started to moan and gripped me firmer. I worked quickly, wanting this to be over with as fast as possible to avoid further punishment so that I wouldn't need to use anything else much other than my hand. After all, that was bad enough.
'Ya heard me. I saw ya tense up, boy. Do as I fuckin' say.' He panted. 'Put it into ya mouth.'
'You must be fuckin' jokin'. No!' I dropped his dick and tried to run.
He reacted fast and grabbed me before I could even stand up. I cursed myself again for stupidly kneeling on the floor.
He chuckled at my pathetic escape attempt before he grabbed my hair roughly, yanking me back towards him. 'Don't try that again, boy, otherwise I'll go straight to the final stage. If you convince me that ya enjoy having my hard cock in ya mouth, ya little bitch, maybe I'll stop before any real damage is done.'
I trembled because I wasn't so clueless about fucking that I didn't know what he was getting at when he talked about 'the final stage' of my punishment. Did he mean what I thought he did? Even he couldn't be that sick.
'What the fuck, Dad? You can't make me!'
'Why act so shy? Ain't like the first time you've had a cock in ya mouth, is it, sweetheart? Mike told me ya didn't need much tellin', said ya naturally gifted with ya tongue. So, I want to see for myself.'
I couldn't reply at first, I was so mortified that he brought up Mike - that name was forbidden in our house - to throw back in my face. I knew he was lying about what 'Uncle Mikey' told him otherwise why did he half -kill him, hold me and stroke my hair for days afterwards? Kept telling me it wasn't my fault? Wouldn't let me out of his sight even to go to school?
Something had changed dramatically in the way he saw me and treated me but hell if I knew what it was.
In my blind terror, I didn't put 2 + 2 together at first but it became clear soon enough.
I had done something unforgiveable in his eyes and it had shit to do with what had happened with the cops today. This sudden realization left me cold. He couldn't have seen us, nobody did!
'No, he didn't! 'Sides, ya jus' as sick as him! Fuck you!' I struggled uselessly in his grip. Him and Merle was still stronger than me, I'd barely filled out like most teenagers my age.
He ignored my furious outburst. 'Or ya been practisin' with that teacher of yours – never did tell me his name. Or with…' He voice trailed off into a filthy chuckle.
Maybe if I keep him talking, I can distract him until he comes to his senses, I thought to myself hopefully but of course he knew what I was doing.
I looked up at him with blushing cheeks: 'Chance two?' I tried – just wanting to make it all stop. Even if he beat me unconscious like he often did when he 'punished' me.
His palm connected sharply with my face once again and left a red welt. Grateful that he still hadn't used his fists yet, I kept quiet. Determined not to piss him off further. 'This is the part where you're supposed to lick your lips and do as I say, ya little cock-sucking bitch.'
What the hell was I thinking? He wouldn't stop his twisted game even if I did moan around his dick. I would have some of my dignity left if I didn't. My gut danced tango on me seconds before my tongue made its first contact.
His impatience made me lick along the shaft soon enough and he shuddered and groaned. It didn't take long before his hands cupped my face, forcing my mouth to open wider while memories of Mike threatened to overwhelm me. He got a little too carried away at one point, shoving himself all the way in the back of my throat. I gagged and leaned away from him.
He smiled at me; 'Ya have to relax. Try it, learn how to master it, and ya'll be able to breathe.' He said in an uncharacteristically patient, kindly voice. The sick fuck was coaching me like he was one of my teachers at school but I wasn't falling for it. I knew what we were doing was just plain wrong.
I did try and I got the hang of it pretty quickly but sheer panic made it hard for me to find a rhythm so that I could catch my breath. Worse - my eyes filled unwittingly with tears as he made damn sure his dick went as far as it would go.
He twined his fingers in my hair, and hissed: 'This is even more of a turn on than I dreamed it would be. The only thing spoiling it is that I ain't ya first. See - wanted to ease ya into your first ever blowjob.' He spoke proudly as he gasped between groans of pleasure. 'Where the hell did ya learn to do that? With that teacher or with your boyfriend?'
'I didn't! With either of them!' I stupidly opened my mouth in outrage and he hissed in frustration as he slipped out of it.
'Idiot!' He slapped me so hard that I could taste the blood trickling into my mouth mixed with the disgusting taste of him. However, he seemed to have forgotten all about the blowjob in his rage at least and he hadn't come into my mouth. That would have been unbearable.
'Don't lie to me, ya little fag! I saw ya with that boy! Kissing just like two little sweet lovebirds. Ya didn't look as innocent and shy as you do now.'
Shit! He did see us or someone did and told him. Who? Who else knows?
'Tell me, son. How far did ya go with them? As far as this?' He panted in excitement. 'Or did they do it to you?'
I refused to answer.
'My poor baby boy.' He crooned, stroking my cheek while I cringed away from his hand. 'What is it about ya that attracts them to ya? Is it because ya ain't a Dixon, ain't even a man maybe and that's why they find ya out like a dog sniffs out shit.'
'Fuck you. I am a man and you know it!' His words stung because I'd often wondered the same thing myself. I was still skinny as a rake with no muscles to speak of and hadn't had sex yet. Worse - I wasn't even sure if I liked girls – I was only sweet on Andrea and the only boy I had ever wanted to kiss was Eric. I really liked him but I couldn't tell if it was more than a friend or not. Or if I would ever go further with him. Probably it was just some stupid passing teenage crush and he didn't like me in that way either. Didn't stop me missing him though. Especially now.
I was so confused and my lack of sexual experience didn't help either. But hell would freeze over before I told that sick fuck any of this.
His hand attacked me fast enough like a snake striking its unknowing victim. With an iron grip around my arm he yanked me back down from when I'd half got up to make another run for it. Should have known he'd never let me go.
My knees met the hard, unforgiving floor with a sickening sound like my heart.
'Ya a fag, that's what ya are. Ya like dick so why the hell did ya stop what ya were doin'?!' He raged but in a sing-song voice that he used to read me nursery-rhymes in. Back then before he started hurting me. And it made the hairs on my arms stand on end. It didn't help much that he also gave me the infamous Dixon-glare at the same time.
'Get back here, ya dirty little bitch!' He pulled me even closer and forced himself back inside my sore throat and pinning me down while relentlessly fucking my mouth. I prayed that he would come soon and that it would be over. Even if it was into my mouth. I tried all the tricks I'd heard of – varied my technique (that I'd heard about second hand from classmates that their girlfriends used on them) but still he moaned and writhed in ecstasy for what seemed like forever. Taunting me whenever he could get enough breath to speak. When I thought I was about to pass out from the lack of oxygen, he pushed me backwards.
'Ain't good enough.'
Horrified, I gasped for air. Standing on slightly shaky legs, I tried to grasp what he said and what it meant for me. Meanwhile, he held me put by gripping me tightly by the tops of my arms out in front of him.
'Started off well but ya really disappointed me, son. Means I gotta punish ya more.'
I shook my head in disbelief.
'Now ya gonna pay.' He was really freaking me out. He was just standing there and leering at me up and down. Unsurprisingly, that hateful smirk was back.
'Ya gonna make me come another way, ya dirty little whore.'
He was very pleased with himself, or what he saw in front of him – me, naked.
When he pushed me forward, my body shut down on its own in protest and my legs wouldn't obey my commands. I wasn't so innocent that I didn't know what was going to happen.
'Please, please Dad, don't. Let me suck you again.' I pleaded when I could find my voice again. I hated myself at the same time for sounding just like a whore like he called me. But I was terrified of what he was about to do!
'I'll do it right this time. Make ya come real good, I promise.' I bargained pathetically.
My offer was met with a hard slap but I was just grateful he didn't do anything worse. Not yet, anyway. And I was ashamed – Dixons didn't cry and they certainly never, ever fuckin' begged.
'Can't even do that right. What are ya good for anyway? Only good for fuckin', that's what. Always been a whining little bitch. Not like Merle.'
He preferred Merle now? Of course, he did. It was like what me and Eric did gave him permission to do whatever the hell he liked.
I couldn't help it – when I realised he was really going to go through with it, I started to hyperventilate and try to get free in panic. But this only made him angrier. This time he punched me several times into submission.
What the hell was happening here? Had he taken some of Merle's pills again? I became more and more hysterical.
'Please Daddy, don't. I'll be good, I promise.'
He was my own father and he was really going to fuckin' rape me.
My feet refused to move, as if they were glued to the floor, just made him laugh. 'Stop making a fool out of yaself, boy, ya know ya won't win this.'
With no warning, my face suddenly collided into the same table I was pressed against earlier and he started to finally punch me. Dizzy, with a bleeding nose and mouth that was continuously filling with blood from his assaults; I waited and hoped with everything I had that he would stop and let me go. Come to his fucking senses. I tried to speak but only bloody gurgles came out. I spat it all out, I honestly didn't care if he punished me for that as well. I just wanted that coppery, awful taste to leave my mouth. Yet, it didn't matter what I did, I wasn't stupid, this wasn't an attempt to scare me. He was serious this time. Worse – not even that drunk as he pressed my face harder against the table while keeping a firm grip around my neck.
'Don't move. Don't look, it'll come as a surprise.' He told me like he was giving me a birthday present.
I did the exact opposite and turned around to look at him. He gave me another of his trademark cruel smirks before he turned around to walk out of the room. I could hear him rustling around for something in the bathroom and all kinds of monstrous thoughts came to my mind. I didn't know what to think. Hopefully, he would just let me go when he came back.
Or I could run out of the door. Out of the house and never come back. Even if I had to live on the streets - I wouldn't care what I had to do to survive. Anything was better than this.
But what would Merle do? He wouldn't know what had happened to me. Maybe he'd even blame himself. Dad could tell him anything.
But before I could even think seriously making a run for it, my father was back again holding something in his hand.
I trembled because it was too small for me to see what it was.
By the looks of things, it was time for me to pay, for every goddamn sin I had ever committed in my short life. The crime of messing around with another boy had been the final straw for my father, apparently.
He said nothing but deliberately pressed himself in between my thighs so that I could feel how hard he was. Yet my mind was in clear denial and I refused right until the end to believe that he would do such a thing. TO me, his son when he had Merle kill his best friend for trying to do it to me. How could he?
I was still stupidly expecting to hear the first wheezing sound of his belt coming down hard on my back and the painful sting of it, followed by his cruel, mocking laughter. And I would have welcomed both – even the stinging burn of the belt buckle. Even the excruciating pain of him carving my flesh with the cold, steel blade of his hunting knife rather than this. Still half expecting him to stop and admit that this had all been a sick joke and that he would never hurt me like that before he comforted me like he always did and told me how sorry he was for getting carried away.
Didn't happen of course.
Not this time.
The only two things I could focus my eyes on was my blood slowly spreading on the glass surface of that goddamn glass table, as well as my breath coming in short, sharp pants of terror. Worse - unfortunately, I couldn't block out the stink of him so close to me. All coherent thoughts flew out of the window as I automatically held my breath when I felt my trembling legs being suddenly kicked apart. Then a familiar scent hit my nostrils - oil. Oil smelling like pineapple and mint, my favorite fragrances.
