Page 26 of Little Psycho

Only one person gets that reaction out of him: his father.

He backs away from the door, ignoring the relentless pounding.Coming back into the living room, he picks up the bloody needle and the belt, and then sits down and ties off, determined to get high before all hell breaks loose and we’re thrust into the middle of chaos once again.

“Do you want me to answer it?”Kill asks, wiping his nose to make sure there’s no visible white powder coating his nostril.

“Nah, fuck him,” Dom spits, repeatedly sticking himself with the dull needle until he finds a vein.

“If your old man is here, I’m assuming ours aren’t too far behind him,” I point out, keeping my voice hushed while fighting the urge to vomit.

“Isn’t that how it usually happens?”He scoffs, removing the belt and stuffing the needle between the cushions.

I nod, staying silent while reaching into my pocket, my stomach churning something terrible.I pull out a bottle of pills, pouring a few onto the table in front of me.I use the bottom of the liquor bottle to crush both the Dilaudid and the Klonopin, mixing the white and yellow powders together into a fat line that makes my fucking mouth water.

There’s a break in the noise outside of the front door, but we know it won’t last.The three of us quickly get as high as we can, preparing ourselves for the vile encounter we know is about to happen.

I grab the shotgun from its place between the couch cushions, watching as Kill loads his own and Dom slides the pistol out of the back of his sweats.We’re ready for whatever comes through that door, for the shitstorm that’s been brewing beneath the surface for years.The past we’ve been trying to escape is about to crash back into our lives again, and there’s no fucking stopping it—there’s never any stopping it.

For years, the three of us have been living with a dark, disturbing secret—a secret we all share similar versions of.I still remember the first night my father snuck into my room; it was the same night he killed my mother and lost control of his urges.I was gagged to silence my screams as he forced his way into my bed.He fucking broke me—in more ways than one—and shattered my spirit with every violent, sinister act he forced upon me.

That was the night I lost all belief in God and the greater good; it was also the night that I learned how sick and twisted my father really was.

I wasn’t his first victim and definitely not his last, but I was his favorite.I lost all respect I had for my father, the man I looked up to the most.I feared him, and it wasn’t supposed to be that way.He was supposed to fucking protect me and guide me through the good and bad in my life.But he didn’t.

I was only fucking twelve.

I remember breaking down in front of Calista and coming clean to her about what my father was doing.I’ll never forget how much love and support she showered me with, but it still didn’t help how I was feeling on the inside.She used to promise me that she’d make him pay for his sins, and at the time, I believed her.

I had no idea that Dominic and Killian were going through their own shit too, living in horrible, reoccurring nightmares just as sadistic as mine.It was Calista who made me aware—she made all of us aware of each other’s pain.

As a joke, just to make ourselves feel better, the four of us would make plans to run away; we even planned to kill each other’s fathers.But none of us could ever do it.Not only were they very powerful and well-known members in the community, but they were also part of this secret society that preyed on young boys and girls and exploited them in every way they could.There was no stopping them, and to this day, we still haven’t figured out a way.

Now that we’re older, we’ve learned how to fight back, and we sure as fuck fight our hardest to keep them away from us...but it still doesn't always work.Ever since they discovered chloroform, they’ve managed to get away with even more shit.And because my father is the chief of police, I don’t stand a fucking chance.

Even now, as the knocking echoes, I turn back into the scared, helpless little boy my father transformed me into.

My entire body shakes.Panic begins to clutch my throat, making me feel like I can’t breathe.Beads of sweat seep from my pores and coat my skin in a thin, sticky layer.I mentally shut down, fear and shame swirling like a destructive tornado in my mind.

As the pounding on the door gets louder, we exchange a knowing look, our eyes filled with a mixture of fear and humiliation.It’s time to face the demons we’ve been running from for so long.

We rise to our feet, waiting for the inevitable, and as the lock finally gives way beneath the blows, we’re ready.Whatever happens next, we’ll face it together.We always have.

Dom opens the door, making sure his father can see that he’s armed, but it doesn’t phase him in the slightest.

“Put your fucking guns away, pansies,” his father sneers, pushing his way into our apartment with our fathers right behind him.

It just now dawns on me that even though I think we might be free, we never will be.There will never be any escape from this.This is our life, and we’re stuck living with the hell that our fathers have created for us.

As their eyes bore into us, it’s clear that we’re trapped, tethered to our own personal nightmares.And with the taste of shame, defeat, and failure in our mouths, we stand here terrified, facing our tormentors as they invade our safe, personal space once again.

“What do you want from us?”Kill demands, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and anger, avoiding the predatory gaze of his father by looking deeply into my eyes and clinging to the sense of safety that he knows I can provide.

His father smirks, a cruel glint in his eyes.“We want you to remember your fucking place.You belong to us, and you’ll never escape from that.Flesh and fucking blood, son.”

“Exactly.And you open the fucking door when we knock.”My father looks at me, giving me a scowl that sends a deep shiver down my spine, making me shift uncomfortably in my stance.

A sadistic chuckle comes from Dom’s father, making my blood run cold and turn to ice all throughout my veins.“Look at how fucking scared they are,” he says.“Still fucking pussies.”He spits at his son’s feet, taking a step closer, invading the protective bubble Dom’s worked so hard to build.“But don’t worry—we’re not here to have fun.We need to have a talk, so sit the fuck down.”

The three of us all sit on command, turning into useless, broken shells of the men we’ve worked so hard to be.But we’re not men, as our fathers have constantly reminded us.I don’t even know what the fuck we are other than broken.

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