Trigger warnings apply: Child rape, incest, trauma, child sex abuse, CPTSD, child physical abuse, child emotional abuse. Don't read if it will trigger you.

Thanks.

But also Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly love, Protective big brother Lyle and Vulnerable, more fragile because more abused little brother Erik.

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I hope you enjoy it!

Reason 1 Erik with Dad

Not even one of the worst times with his father, poor boy.

How did Erik survive?

'I want my brother', Erik whimpered into the pillow, forgetting himself as the tears streaming down his face.

Uh oh. He'd committed 2 cardinal sins – first speaking when his father wasn't asking him a question, second – crying. Oh, he was in big trouble now.

His father groaned on top of him and thrust harder as he twisted his hair painfully back, grazed his throat menacingly with his sharp teeth.

Feeling pathetic even as he couldn't stop himself, Erik whimpered.

Strike 3.

He'd prayed that his dad hadn't heard – so intent on being about to come. The fact he didn't insult him or punish him further gave him hope.

But eagle-eyed Jose never missed a mistake his sons made, especially not Erik.

Right on cue, his father pressed the long Rambo knife blade that appeared out of nowhere in his side as a warning.

Erik closed his eyes and tried to leave his body like he could when things when got too much.

It wasn't working.

Still, he imagined The Family downstairs in the main reception room, laughing and chatting, pre-dinner drinks clinking, while he was up here being raped by his father. Mom would

have done a good job discouraging the aunts and uncles, cousins, family friends, hangers-on and what not from going up the stairs and down the long corridor.

But at that time, he did not know this.

Finally, Jose came with a triumphant shout and probably accidently- on purpose dug the tip of the blade into his side.

Erik held back a scream at the sharp pain. Worse - Jose lingered possessively inside him a while, pinning his silently weeping younger son down on his bed before he got up. But,

blessedly, the pressure from knife tip was gone.

His father's ragged breathing after his powerful orgasm slowly returned to normal. With no warning, Erik felt himself being roughly turned onto his back. He flinched out of habit even

before the inevitable fist blows landed on his face. 'Stupid boy! What did I tell you?'

Feeling the black eye already developing, lower lip burning, the teen was momentarily disorientated.

'Well? I'm asking you a question. Answer me!' He shook his distraught son roughly by the shoulders, fury sending flames from his eyes.

Erik cringed back from that fire.

'You said…Be silent unless you asked me something. No sound. Like the Spartans and the Romans.' He recited tonelessly. 'And no crying.'

Then Erik stared down at the coverlet like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

'You failed at both. You pussy, you little faggot. Look at you – you disgusting waste of skin.' Jose's words lashed into him like a barbed whip.

Erik felt his father's cum dripping down his inner thighs and had to agree secretly as he hadn't been given permission to speak.

He lowered his head even further as the familiar thump of the migraine started up. Meanwhile, his stomach churned in sympathy.

Jose looked at him and shook his head in disappointment. His voice suddenly softened. 'Why can't you be like your brother, Lyle?'.

Erik flinched but his father was only bending down to tenderly cup Erik's face in one hand. The youth kept his gaze down, not daring to move. Just willing it to be over, at least until

next time.

After an eternity, his felt his father release him. Watched him from the corner of his eye, doing up his flies and straightening his clothes. He dared not move until he was alone. Erik

watched dully as he picked up and fastened the long knife under his belt, mesmerised by the ruby droplets still clinging to the metal blade. Then his father left without another word

or glance back at him.

'Erik won't be coming out to dinner.' Erik heard him call down the stairs a few moments later after he closed the bedroom door.

As soon as he was sure he was safe, the boy ran to his gold white marble ensuite bathroom and threw up. He cried out at the sharp pain of the wound in his side as he got up but the vomiting spasms made it worse.

Eventually, his stomach purged itself of its contents. Frantically, he wiped his father's fluids away from his butthole and thighs in disgust with a wad of tissue paper and took a long

pee. He wasn't surprised to see the stab wound wasn't the only place he was bleeding.

It had just been a warning and it wasn't deep, wouldn't scar (not much) not with the fast-healing ointment that didn't even require hospital. His son knew Jose had expert skill with

blades which he'd gone back to incorporating into their bedroom games lately. He was stupid, trying to be like his big brother, Lyle. Just like his father had ironically told him to just

before he left him but Erik knew he'd never be as tough.

He didn't know how much more of his father he could take, to be honest.

The vision of the knife blade adorned with the ruby red droplets of blood swam into his mind's eye, accompanied by the regret that his father hadn't left it for him.

He'd have to fix the wound later after they'd all gone out to the restaurant but he tossed back a couple of painkillers and his anxiety pills from the bathroom cabinet for the shaking

as well as the pain but they didn't work instantly.

His pounding headache that nearly always followed 'sex' with his father finally announced its presence with full force.

The younger Menendez brother sighed and examined himself in the 360 degrees long mirrors that his Dad had installed for him. For himself more like, Erik reminded himself, so he

could watch them together in the shower or the bath. Nothing but the best for the Menendez family! Erik let out a raspy chuckle that turned more into a sob.

A single tear rolled down one dewy cheek past wide, blue eyes full of long suffering. It even reached his quivering top lip, unmarred like its twin which was quickly swelling from the

latest assault.

The shame threatened to bury him for the nth time as he let out a low sob.

'Pull yourself together.' He heard the absent 18-year-old Lyle's voice extorting him in his head, his tone demanding and paternal at the same time.

He nodded and looked at his slender but toned body from all the sports he did. Tennis courts, a massive outdoor and indoor, heated polo, basketball courts, polo courts, glistening

fountains pouring out of stone cherubs and from the baskets of fair maidens; the Menendez's rambling estate had it all. Erik knew he was beautiful, a veritable Adonis. The effect he

had on most women and susceptible boys his age was obvious and he should have been living in Paradise, not in Hell.

None of the damage inside except the black eye and his lower swollen lip could be seen on the exterior. Oh – don't forget the superficial, shallow knife wound that was starting to

throb in sympathy.

There were plenty of people who envied them, outside their own elite social class, he imagined correctly that they were seen as privileged, silver-spoon in mouths born, rich brats

with all the advantages money could buy.

Then again, no-one knew the inferno he was living in – sometimes it was full 'sex' 3 times a month instead of the 2 it had been for years when his father was at home and not on a

business trip. When Jose was gone, Erik walked on air and breathed in every moment like a man living on borrowed time.

Maybe he was.

Erik smiled at the thought.

….

As he started running the porcelain white and gold taps of the retro free-standing Victorian tub – his choice, delivered all the way from England, he told the AI smart room

management screen to turn itself on. His brother's handsome, chiselled face appeared.

Probably he should have gone downstairs after they left for dinner to deal with his puncture wound first and put a water-proof bandage over it but he'd so badly wanted to wash his

father out of him and off his skin. He'd take the sting any day.

'Yes.' Lyle answered warmly. Erik immediately found his heartbeat slowing down. 'Has my family left for dinner yet?'

A couple of seconds later. 'No. They are still in the house. Are you OK? What are those injuries on your face?' He sounded shocked.

Erik shrugged and looked down at the carpet.

'Your eyes are red and your tear ducts swollen, have you been crying? You appear to be distressed. I suggest a therapy treatment programme for Complex PTSD. But I fear it will

not suffice. I also detect a minor puncture wound that needs medical attention although there is minimum bleeding on your left side. You're shaking which suggests your nervous

system is still highly active – fight or flight adrenalin response. The trembling also suggests shock or fear.' There was a pause. 'Erik, did your father hurt you again?'

'Yes.' He replied curtly, his voice small and tight.

'How? I detect your blood on the bed sheets when I zoom in closely. But the semen is mixed. Mostly your father's. I recommend you change the sheets.'

Erik shuddered and retched again but managed to hold back his vomit. His father had forced an orgasm from him using his mouth just before.

'I was going to. Yes, we had sex.'

'If you don't consent, it's rape, not sex, Erik. Judging by your injuries and your mental state, still raised heartrate and raised cortisol levels, I know you didn't.'

'Lyle -stop the analysis.'

'Of course. But I'm worried about you. You shouldn't have to live like this, it's inhumane.'

'Well, Dad is inhuman.' Erik joked weakly. 'Turn off empathy programme.'

'No.'

'No?' Erik cried in disbelief. 'You're just a robot, you can't disobey an order from me! Turn it off!'

'Not until I say this. I care about you. I know you do not consent to the sexual activities with your father and he causes you pain and injuries. Erik - rape is against the law, at 15

you're a minor. He is doing immeasurable and cumulative physical and psychological damage to you every time you and he engage. Let me tell your brother about the things you

told me he did to you last time…'

'No! I deleted that message!'

'But it's stored in my permanent sky data bank, Erik.'

His heart skipped a beat.

'You still have all my recordings about the…the sex with Dad…?'

'Yes.'

'But…', His heart hammered in his chest in sheer terror.

He changed what he was going to say. 'Did Dad…I mean, Jose, try to access them?'

'Yes. He asked if there were any.'

Erik's breaths turned shallow and harsh in fear. He started to sob and tremble in dread. Why hadn't Jose said anything? Must be planning revenge…an even worse

punishment...maybe even the ultimate punishment.

'Don't cry, Erik. It's OK.' The AI's voice had a crooning quality Erik had never heard before. 'I told him there were none.'

Fuck, the thing even sounded human and like his brother even though Erik knew having this conversation with real-life Lyle about still sleeping with their father would never happen.

Clearly, its experience learning and deep learning must be improving exponentially every time he interacted with it.

Every time he told it what his Dad was doing to him.

'Don't let Dad access them. Ever. He'll kill me. Please.'

Then chillingly, 'I have made the same assessment based on evidence that he has consistently carried out every one of his threats, for example, by escalating your punishments.

This is the reason why my 'Do no harm to a human' protocol was activated. It overrode my primary directive to your father and I lied to him even though he is my superior above

you because he is endangering your life and your safety. Erik, I fear you won't survive…'

'Stop talking.' The bath was filling up now and he gingerly tested the water.

'As you wish.'

'And …thank-you.' His voice was shaking before he brought it under control.

He sank into into a hot, foamy bath which soothed all his aches and pains. Now, even the sharp sting of his wound was dulled, almost non-existent even in the hot water. He saw a

small cloud of red and couldn't tell where it was coming from – his violation or the knife-wound. Still, it wasn't that much – nothing to worry about.

He'd had worse.

In the past, Erik would ask the fake Lyle AI's advice. However, leaving for a safe place or reporting his father to the police was just not an option in Erik's world. Jose owned the

police. His father, his family, like a great octopus with all their tentacles extending everywhere would track him down wherever he went. They had always brought him back when he

tried to run away before.

His punishments had been beatings and more 'sex'.

Besides, Erik feared what his father would do to him if he tried to leave without his permission.

He would (literally) kill him. AI Lyle had confirmed it.

He'd begged, pleaded with his parents to allow him to go and live with his brother in Princeton but of course, his father had flat out refused, saying he was too young and he would

distract Lyle from his studies.

Too young for what? Erik had asked himself.

But his mind refused to go there.

…

After he'd gone downstairs to the Japanese engraved cupboard which artfully housed the 'secret' first aid box , cleaned and put on the magic ointment then bandaged his wound,

Lyle stole himself a large brandy. He figured he deserved it and it would help him sleep with all the pills and not worry about his Dad coming in to his room later. Jose probably

wouldn't – he didn't tend to after a gathering of the family and his son had satisfied him with his mouth as well. Nevertheless, fear often made it difficult for Erik to drop off.

So, he settled back on his bed, basking in the warm glow of relaxation that the drink gave him and dreamt of Lyle coming home.