Page 71 of Viking Ink

Opening it, I saw a message from Simon saying he was going to be at least another hour. I texted him back to tell him I was fine, and I’d see him when he got home, and then I sank down onto the bed. God, it was comfortable, and the faint scent of Simon’s aftershave lingered on the pillow. Reaching out, I slid my phone onto the bedside table, my fingers brushing over my pop. I grabbed it out of its protective cover and slipped it into my mouth. I sucked gently and let my eyes shut. Just a little nap, then I would get the lasagne on.

I woke with a start, foggy and disoriented until I remembered I’d fallen asleep on the bed in the playroom. I snuggled back down for a moment, wondering what had woken me. Blinking rapidly in the dim light, I reached for my phone. The screen lit up, showing it was 6 p.m. I flopped back onto the bed, dropping my phone onto the covers. I rubbed my eyes, trying to clear my head. Simon should be here soon.

A noise to the left of me had me shifting and peering into the dim room.

There was someone sitting in the rocking chair, and it wasn’t Simon.

I sat up straight, fumbling for my phone but in my haste it slipped from my fingers and bounced onto the floor.

“Leave it!” a voice I’d prayed never to hear again gritted out.

“Dad? How the fuck—you shouldn’t be here,” I stammered out, trying to remain outwardly calm while my brain was screaming for my Daddy.

“You forgot to lock the door, boy. You always were a stupid one, weren’t you? I’ve come to take you in hand. You’ve strayed off the path, but I’m here to correct that.”

I slid further up the bed as my father rose from the chair and moved menacingly towards me. I moved off the bed trying to get away, but my foot caught on my playroom rug, sending me sprawling onto my face. I felt a sudden painful tug to my hair, and my dad was hauling me up onto my feet.

“You’re not going anywhere, boy. You need to be absolved from your sins.” His voice was a harsh whisper as I struggled in his hold.

Swinging my arms wildly, I landed a punch to his middle, and felt a flash of satisfaction at the pained grunt he gave, but his hold didn’t lessen. My head reeled sideways as he slapped me hard, before dragging me out of the room towards the front door. I shook my head, trying to clear it and spitting out blood onto the floor. I winced internally at leaving a mess on the rug. Daddy was going to freak out when he saw the blood. He was gonna know something bad had happened.

My feet nearly came out from under me as Dad shoved me out of the door, his hand still clamped firmly in my hair. The other hand was now holding something sharp against my back.

“You make a noise, and I’ll gut you like the sinful pig you are, without any chance of redemption.” Dad sounded strange, distant. He was always a cruel man, but there was a new level of malice to his tone, and I didn’t doubt he’d use the knife—if that was what it was— prodding against my back.

I stumble-fell down the stairs and my father dragged me along the path behind the studio and through the gate that led down to the beach.

What the fuck did he have planned?

Twisting my head, I took one last look at the studio and saw early evening strollers on the path leading towards the pier. Without thinking, I screamed loudly. When I screamed, my outburst startled my father enough that his grip loosened slightly. Twisting savagely to the right, I tore from his grip, shrieking when a chunk of hair came out as I fought for freedom.

I bolted towards the beach, my bare feet hitting the slippery pebbles as I ran. The cold wind coming off the water whipped at my light tee, but I paid it no mind, driven to run as fast as I could. If I could lose my pursuer in the darkness, I could circle back towards the pier and safety.

Simon had to be getting to the flat now, and he’d know something was wrong. He’d see the signs of a struggle in the playroom, and the blood on the hallway rug.

Cold water hit my feet and I stopped, gasping in shock. I’d not focused on where I was running, and had reached the water’s edge. Stopping to draw breath, I went to move towards the lit up pier, and my hopes of safety. But I should have paid more attention. My father was on me before I’d taken a step. His rough hand gripping me around the throat, he pushed me backwards, into the water. The rocky ground caused me to lose my footing, and fall into the waves, my father’s hand still wrapped around my throat.

Icy water filled my nose and mouth, inky water blurring my vision as he pushed me deeper into the water before he yanked me upwards. My chest heaved and I drew in ragged breaths, my eyes stinging from the salt water.

“Beg forgiveness, Rhys. Beg our Lord to forgive your perverted ways!” Dad screamed as he shoved me back into the water.

I thrashed, trying to break free from his iron grip but the waves and slippery stones kept me off balance.

Again I was hoisted up, my father’s face mottled with rage, the light of the full moon making his features look maniacal and twisted. “Hear me, boy. Pray for forgiveness.”

I swung clumsily, trying to connect with his body, to do anything that might get him to release his iron grip, but I only managed to grab his soaked shirt, tearing the fabric as I struggled, my growing rage wiping out the years of programmed obedience and fear.

“Fuck you!” I screamed, right before he plunged me back into the freezing water. I didn’t have a chance to take a breath. My lungs burned as I fought to hold my breath, but I was losing the battle to stay conscious, my struggles roving useless.

I wished I’d locked the door.

But more than that, I wished I could tell Simon how much I loved him, and how sorry I was that we wouldn’t get to spend the rest of our lives together, the way I’d dreamed.

I could feel darkness creeping at the edges of my consciousness. I let my mind cling to images of Simon—his beautiful smile and flaming red hair, his deep chuckle when I said something to make him laugh, the soft way he kissed me. Those were the thoughts I let fill my mind, not the vile hatred spewed by the man that towered above me, trying to take my life.

Rage filled my veins, and I decided I wouldn’t give in so easily. I’d fight to be back in my Daddy’s arms.

With strength I didn’t know I had, I got my feet under me, the rocks cutting my bare feet. But I didn’t care. I shoved up, fighting against the stranglehold my father had on me. I fought for everything I wanted in life. I fought for the little boy I was, beaten and afraid. I fought to see my Simon again. I refused to leave him because of this bastard.

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