Page 21 of Explosive Prejudice

“Fuck, I almost forgot how pretty you are. So damn pretty,” Orson added as if everything he’d said until now wasn’t bad enough. “But let’s go, shall we? We don’t want to keep the big boss waiting. He’s already waited long enough.”

Understanding that, at this point, it would be better to cooperate, I followed Orson as he led the way. At first, I thought he’d take me to his bedroom, but instead, he walked me to our gym. Entering the room, my dad was running shirtless on the treadmill, probably doing his daily thirteen-mile run. Among other things, my father was obsessed with his shape and fitness. It probably had to do with his obsessive nature and need to control everything and everyone in his life, with me on the top of that list.

He didn’t pause his workout, not until Orson pushed me farther into the room, and I had no choice but to speak first.

“G-good morning, Dad.”

As if only now acknowledging my presence, he paused the machine. Still with his back to me, I watched his muscles tense and relax with each rapid breath he took. Sweat dripped down his large frame and left traces on the wooden floor. He’d probably have people clean it before we even got out of here.

He hates mess.

Reaching for the perfectly folded towels in a stack beside him, he grabbed one and used it to soak some of the sweat before finally turning to me. As always, I shuddered under his monstrous stare and felt absolutely powerless. When I was younger, I used to try and fight him, but as the years followed and my punishment worsened, I gave up.

Stepping closer, he stopped before me. “Could you begin to imagine a father’s worry when he comes home in the middle of the night to find out his only child is nowhere to be found?”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I was—” My words were cut short by the force of his slap that sent me to the floor. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth as tears of pain coated my eyes. My right cheek burned as if it had been set on fire, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch it. On my arms and knees, I remained frozen at his feet, too afraid to move a muscle.

“I don’t remember asking for an apology.” His voice was hard and cold. “Did I?”

I shook my head.

“Speak up.”

“N-no.” My voice broke, and I started crying. “N-no, Dad, you didn’t.”

With a heavy sigh, he crouched before me. Hooking his thumb underneath my chin, he forced me to look up. When Nero did this to me, it felt empowering, but now it made me feel like a puppet on a string.

I wish my night with Nero had never ended.

“Don’t cry, Shay-Lee. You know that breaks my heart.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” He cupped my face. “You’re above apologizing.” Using his thumbs to clean my tears, he gave me a soft smile. “Now that you’ve calmed down, would you tell me where you’ve been?”

My chin trembled, and I had to force myself to speak. “O-out with friends.” I was lying, but since my father refused to have security cameras inside our house and only around it, the only thing he knew was that I’d left. It was a fact I often used to my advantage, but at times like this, it didn’t help.

“On a school night?” he asked, and I nodded. “I see.” Breaking our stare, he looked down and took a deep breath. He wiped away the rest of my tears and then gently dragged his fingers through my hair, almost tenderly. But then he clenched his fist, just about pulling my hair from its roots. I screamed from the stinging pain while he gripped me so tightly it felt like my scalp was being torn apart. He then dragged me across the floor until my body was slammed against the weight rack. Before my brain could even process the sharp pain spreading through my back, his hand returned to my hair, violently forcing me to look up.

“Stop, please, stop!” I cried out my lungs and tried to hold on to his wrist.

“How stupid do you think I am?”

“It hurts.” My face was covered with tears and sweat. “It hurts so much. Dad. Please, stop.”

“You ungrateful boy,” he hissed from above me. “All I do is give you the freedom and money to do as you please, and how do you repay me? By sneaking around and lying like a pitiful rat.”

“Please.” My voice broke. “Please.”

“Where have you been last night?”

“With my friends.”

He tightened his grip until I squirmed.

“I-I swear! Dad, I swear.”

“After the way you behaved for months, I thought that week in London put you back on track, but I was woefully wrong.”

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