Page 62 of Quiet Confessions: Part Two

Falling into step with him, I link my fingers in his. I rinsed off after football practice, but I still feel dirty as hell. The interaction with my father was one of the worst in some ways because this was goodbye. I never want to see him again. I don’t have any reason to go back to his house.

And campus police know to keep him from the gates.

As we get into the car, I finally break my silence. “Are you serious about getting rid of your father?” I ask after the doors are closed.

Cal nods tightly as he starts the car. “Yeah. He’ll never stop, baby. Every machination, deal, and blackmail attempt will surround his greed and determination to get his damn way,” he mutters, maneuvering out of the parking lot.

Dropping my head back on the headrest, I nod. I know he’s right, but it pains me for him. We are both choosing to cut our fathers out of our lives permanently. It feels like yet another bond between us that isn’t one to be happy about. Our lives are kind of fucked up.

“When?” I ask, knowing he’ll know what I’m talking about.

“After the wedding, Nixen has to die,” Cal tells me. He’s disassociating himself from his father already, and that’ll make it easier to deal with him. Now we just have to get through till then.

* * *

I shut off the engine and open the door, then walk up to the house. I’m not paying attention and still repeating all the hurtful words Cal said to me. At least the tears have stopped. I open the door, not noticing that it’s unlocked, and walk inside.

“Oh, look who decided to show up,” my dad slurs the moment I walk in the door.

Shit! I didn’t think he was here. Where the hell is his car? If I knew he was home, I would have climbed in through my bedroom window. I shut the door and shuffle closer to him. I might as well get this over with so I can go to my room.

“What, you have nothing to say? How about how you’re a sissy and fucking other guys? Oh, what? You didn’t think I knew? The whole fucking town knows!” he roars, and I don’t even flinch when he stumbles to his feet and charges me.

He moves to take a swing at my face, but he’s too drunk to aim properly. He hits my shoulder and I move a little to the left, hitting the dining room table. I realize my mistake too late as he swings at me again, but this time I can’t move away in time.

The force of his hit splits my lip and I taste the metallic flavor I’m so familiar with. He usually avoids my face, going for places where I can hide the bruises.

“I don’t know why I was given a son like you. You’re worthless, a real disappointment. You should have been swallowed instead of stuffed in that whore’s vagina,” he slurs.

I flinch at his callous words. He has said similar things in the past, but that was too graphic. I don’t bother replying because it will just set him off further. He scoffs and hits me again, this time in the temple.

My vision becomes fuzzy and I fall to my knees. I blink a few times, waiting for the dizzy feeling to pass. He swings his foot, hitting me hard in the ribs and I wince.

“Pathetic,” he slurs as he spits on me. My eyes fill with tears and I fight them, determined not to let them fall. I can’t show him that he’s getting to me. I can’t let him see how his words are tearing me up inside. How I wish I could just run away, leave this place. I hate it here. “Get the fuck out of my sight. Better yet, get the fuck out of my house. I won’t have no fag for a son.”

I close my eyes and use the table as leverage to pull myself to my feet. I stumble toward my room as he laughs.

“Waste of life. A loser whore, just like your mother. I want you gone by morning.” He keeps shouting things at me and my control is slipping. Every day, little by little, he tears me down, and I’m afraid one day soon I won’t have any pieces of me left.

Gasping, I sit up in bed. I’m covered in sweat and shaking. I never want to feel as sad and hopeless as I did that day. I wanted to end it all, and I really believed my father when he told me I was useless.

“Rooke?” Patience says softly, opening the door. I had decided to take a nap after football practice and showering when we got back. I think it was a mistake looking back now. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” I rasp, belatedly realizing that I was crying in my sleep.

“What happened?” she asks, crawling into the bed. Pulling hard, I smirk as she tumbles into my arms.

“Bad fucking dream.” I say softly, kissing the top of her head. “I dreamt about my dad. He beat the shit out of me, and afterward I felt so helpless. I wondered why I even bothered to live.”

“Rooke, you’re alive because you’re important,” she admonishes. “A lot of people love you, including me, but you’re one of the best people that I know. The world would be a lot dimmer without you. Any time you feel low, I’ll give you a laundry list of things I adore about you.”

I chuckle, even if it is a little watery. I’m getting there. “No, baby, that’s not necessary. Do you want to know one of the reasons that I put one foot in front of the other?” I ask her.

Patience nods, moving to straddle my lap, her arms encircling my neck. “Tell me,” she murmurs, breathing in my scent. I’m sure it’s a bit sour after my dream, but she just snuggles into my chest.

“You. I’m here because you drew me out of the bad thoughts. Pay, you’re so strong, and it reminds me that I can be too.”

Lifting her face, I kiss her lips, feeling like the luckiest bastard in the world.

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