Page 2 of Devoted

I let him win.

When the light cleared, my father was slumped against the far wall. His head sat at an awkward angle. Blood was dripping from his ear.

I fell forwards, bracing my arms on my knees. Shame filled me and the monster fell silent. I had done it. The one thing Father wanted. The one thing my mother had taught me never to give in to.

She would be so disappointed in me.

A low groan echoed across the chamber. I did not look up as my father reincarnated, not wanting to see the satisfaction on his face.

There was no escaping it though. Not as he roughly squeezed my shoulder, the only sign of affection he had ever shown me. “That, my boy, is exactly what we need.”

“Anger cannot be controlled,” I said quietly, knowing I would pay for it later. “It is a fruitless emotion.”

“It is the most powerful emotion of all. And itcanbe controlled. You will use your temper, Ezekiel. It will make you fearsome. It will make you strong.”

I am already strong. Mother always said so.

But Mother was not here now.

It was just Father and I.

He went back to his side of the chamber. Any satisfaction he might have felt at getting his own way was now gone. There was only determination.

Determination to push me further.

A sick knot formed in my stomach and I stared into the shadows, wishing they’d consume me.

Father raised his hands and spoke a single word.

“Again.”

1

Sam

‘You just ran over that old lady’s foot.’

“No, I didn’t.” I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “She was on the path, I’m on the road.”

‘What if you mounted the path for a second without realising?’

“Literally impossible.”

‘I bet she’s calling the police right now. You’re going to go to prison. You’ll lose your job. Your house. Everything.’

That was a bit rich of my intrusive thoughts. Remotely working for indie authors was great, but I wasn’t exactly raking in the money. My house was a shitty one bed in an even shittier area. Before I went to bed every night, I would religiously check that the front and back doors were locked with the two deadbolts I’d installed in addition to the standard lock.

That wasn’t because of my obsessive compulsive disorder though. Well, it wasn’tjustbecause of my OCD. It was thanks to the time I woke up to some random bloke snoring on my other pillow. Most gay men would panic thinking they’d had a one-night stand they’d forgotten about thanks to having one too many.

Me though? I didn’t drink. Alcohol and my meds didn’t mix well.

Given how long it had been since I’d woken up to another man in bed with me, it was an extra kick in the teeth to know he was there uninvited. To be fair, I think the bloke was just as terrified as I was when he woke up to me screaming.

I wasn’t a particularly scary figure on the best of days. At six foot two, my height was about all I had going for me. The gym and I weren’t friends, something very much evidenced by my lean physique. Well, my muscles were lean, but I had some soft padding around my waist and hips thanks to my snacking habits.

Anyway, waking up to me screaming probably wasn’tthatscary. I think it was more the fact that I was clutching a rounders bat from my school days and swinging it wildly that sent the man over the edge.

Once we’d reassured each other that neither of us were murderers who wanted to wear each other’s skin as coats, he explained that he was a local student with no idea how he’d ended up in my bed. A bit of further digging revealed he lived one street over.

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