I Am My Father's Son
Authors note: this is a story I wrote a while ago and if you've seen
the title before it's because I re-did it. I just didn't like it the way it
WARNING, this story is SLASH as in boy on boy action. This story also
contains RAPE and its total ANGST, and if you don't like that (how could
you not) leave now or forever hold your Pease.
When kids grow and become adults it can be a slow process for boys and
girls it can be both painful and rewording and both have different ways of
signifying an adult. Girls get their period, simple as that but what about
boys, what do we get that shows our passage into adulthood? We make it
ourselves and this story is to tell you that.
15 years old, I hated my father simple as that; he would drink, and
beat me whenever he pleased. I was always too small to ward him off, and
today seemed no different.
"YOU LITTLE SHIT GET THE FUCK OUT HERE!!" I put my hands over my ears,
but his horrid voice still seemed to screen though my head. He pounds on my
door harder, and harder. I knew it was only a mater of time before he would
break it down. He always did, every time.
(Crack) And there goes the door, my one and only safety net, fallen
and broken on the floor; I too, would be joining it soon.
"BOY, GET THE FUCK OUT HERE!!" I push myself deeper into the corner of
my wall, the stucco digging into my back. I wanted to disappear but I
couldn't, I never could.
He's above me before I can even scream. And all I can do is wait for
it to be over.
"I TOLD YOU TO OPEN YOUR FUCKING DOOR!!" Each word was followed with a
kick in the stomach; the pain, I couldn't do anything all my screams seemed
to be caught in my throat. I looked up at him with pleading eyes; I could
feel tears falling down my face, his huge body towering over mine.
"COME HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT!!" He pulled me from the floor from my ear
length hair. He lifted me off the floor with what seemed to be no effort at
all and, threw me into my dresser with a loud bone crushing crash.
I could taste blood. And something, something I can't describe in
words happened, something inside of me snapped and all that was left was
seething, burning hatred.
My hand moved of its own free will grabbing the weapon I would use to
do what I never thought I ever could do. Fight back.
I feel no fear anymore, just anger, hot fiery seething anger that had
been growing in me for 15 long years all rolled into to this one moment and
before my brain could even process what my body was doing I was standing
with my switch blade in my hand. Its cool metal handle felt like ice in my
I left it under my dresser for safekeeping. I kept telling myself that
one day I would use it and apparently this was the day.
"You bastard" The words didn't even sound like mine, like they were
said by someone else entirely. "YOU FUCKING COCKSUCKING BASTERD!!" He
stops, shocked, in front of me and an emotion I had never seen on my
fathers face formed.
"Jason now calm down." He backs up. Never in my life has my father
ever backed up from me. And it gives me the leeway I need to do what I had
always dreamed of doing.
"Now just give me the knife son and we can-"
"NO TALK!!" I feel on fire every vein in my body pumping adrenalin
though me. I was mad as hell and I wasn't going to take it anymore. "FUCK
YOU FUCK YOU!!"
I felt out of my body, like I was somewhere else watching this take
place. Like this person wasn't me but a different entity entirely.
I run for him and try to smash my blade into his icy heart. I want him
dead. He dodges, but barely, there is a cut, but not big enough in my hazed
mind. "DIE!!" I spit at him.
"DON'T EVER TOUCH ME AGAIN!!" Here it was, the moment I over powered
my father, the day I became a man. Every moment in my life, ever hit, ever
kick, every mean word took its place in line. "I'LL KILL YOU, I SWEAR TO
GOD I WILL!!"
Everything inside me is burning, I can't feel anything but the fire
inside. He had killed me so long ago, he stole my childhood, and never once
thought about anything but himself, no I wouldn't stop. I wouldn't fucking
let him get away with it!!
Suddenly, all the emotion drowned out of my face, the anger turning to
a numb dull throbbing in the back of my head, he would get his, just not
now. Later in another time in another place. He will feel it.
I turn around. You never turn your back on my father, but I did, I
looked calm cool and collected.
I looked up and realizes I am standing outside my front door and like
a wave about to crash I realized what I had done, like I was back in my own
body, forced to come to terms with the sins I had commuted. I turned and
looked at my front door and I panicked. No, panicked is an understatement,
I was hysterical.
I take off down the street I didn't know were I'm going but I was
getting there in a hurry.
I stop as I feel a cool drop of water fall from the sky his minions
all following suite and plunging themselves to the earth. The drips became
a shower and a shower into a storm.
I look down to watch as the world around me turned dark with the
waters little habit of disfiguring the color of the earth. Making it dark,
as if the world around you is crying.
I saw a flash of silver and look down ay me hand. My switchblade is
still there in the death grip I had made. A picture of my father flashes
through my mind and I saw the blood dripping from his chest from the cut I
had made. I throw the knife, as though it had unexpectedly burst into
flames and was burning into my hand.
The event that had just past played though my head like a broken tape.
It was me. I had hurt my father. I had cut my father. I had scared my
father and worst of all every act I has committed added up. I had become my
I yelled, I screamed, I threatened, and I hurt. Everything my father
had done to me over the years I had become.
"I am my father's son." I am panting and shaking. My eyes becoming
dark and tunnel vision taking over my sight. I have to go, I can't stay.
I look around myself and slowly realize where I am. 2nd street. My
legs taking me here of there own accord and here lives my angel.
Shawn, my Shawn, my best friend.
We had known each other forever, he knew what my father did to me, he
I run across the street to his front door not caring as the cars
passed on the street, and ring the doorbell. When no one answers I panic,
even more so than I already am, and ring it again and again.
If I was in my right state of mind may have realized that I had only
waited about 10 seconds, but I'm not. I kept ringing till I hear a voice.
"Damn it I'm coming" Shawn. I knew his voice well, that was him. He
was coming. I was gonna be okay. I was gonna be ok.
The door swings open. "What do-" is about as far as he gets before I
fling myself into his arms, both of us falling backwards onto his cool
"Jason what are you-. what's wrong?" That was all it took. I brake
down just, just frigging shatter. Tears spilling down my face that seem to
have no end.
I feet his arms come around me as he pulls me into his grip. I latch
my arms around his waist and never want to let go. He maneuvers my head
into the crook of his neck and rub's my back in slow circles.
I hiccup and sob out my sad story to him. It probably sounds like
gibberish to him, but he doesn't seem to mind.
What we must look like, sitting there in the entrance hall to his
front door was beyond me, and at the moment. I didn't care.
I have no idea how long we sat there, how long he sat there holding
together my broken pieces.
When my sobs had subsided to hiccups I look up at him. Never in my
entire life have I ever seen someone so beautiful. His golden blond hair
weighed down with water, his white skin almost glowing.
I realize my incessant ringing must have dragged him out of the
shower, for he only sat there in a towel. I look into his sky blue eyes, so
kind, so caring. Suddenly I felt tired. So tired. He stood up pulling me
with him. He holds me in a hug for a little while and I gladly return it.
"I couldn't take it, I couldn't take it" Over and over again I say it.
I don't want to believe it; I want it to be a bad dream.
"Wake up, wake up, wake up" but I stay asleep. Stuck in my own
nightmare, my reality.
"Shhh, its gonna be ok." Shawn's sweet voice calms me, and my erratic
breathing slowly subsides.
This is Shawn. This was where his true colors shined bright. He was
always there for me, when I would come to his house broken and bleeding and
he would take care of me. And put me back together with the love he always
The day my mom left me and my father, he was there to hold me. He was
my strength, my brick wall to lean on. My home.
"Sleepy?" he questions.
I shake my head yes, though he couldn't see it, me being on his
shoulder, but he feels it. "Sleepy" I confirm.
He looseness his grip on me and goes to close the front door, not
wanting him to let go, I cup my hand around his. He looks confused for a
second, then merely smiles one of those smiles that made you feel warm and
Before he closes the door we both catch sight of the storm brewing
outside. I am glad I made it before the worst of it. Our hands still
entwined together, he pulls me upstairs to his room.
He closes the door and locks it. I silently thank him for that. I
begin to shiver as I finally realize how dripping wet I am.
Shawn gets his hand out of my grip and ambles into the bathroom coming
back out with two towels.
At the moment I was finding out if it was physically possible to sleep
standing up without falling over.
He puts the towels on his desk and strolls over to his dresser and
pulls out a pair of boxer pants. He slides off his towel and drops it onto
the floor, giving me a perfect view.
Shawn is not the modest type. If he could parade around all day naked
he would. Not that I minded or anything, he has a gorgeous body.
He slips them on in one swoop then comes over to me and proceeds to
strip me of my sopping wet clothes. If I weren't about to fall asleep on
him, I would be blushing.
He pulls the end of my t-shirt up over my head forcing me to pick up
my arms. I hate it when people see my chest and back. Not like I was fat or
too skinny or anything. I had a very nice build courtesy of football.
No, it was the scars. They may not sound that bad, but they are,
bites, nails, knifes, cigarettes, belt whips. All over me.
Shawn saw them by accident while we were wrestling one another.
It was a boring day, both me and Shawn just messing around in his
room. After a while the little pushes and tinny smacks turned into an all
out "I'm 12 and bursting with unsatisfied, unexplored sexual urges and if
you think that little hits gonna go unnoticed you got another thing
We started rolling around his room trying to pin the other to the
ground, rug burns forming in places that we will regret in the morning. I
was having so much fun I hadn't even knottiest that was shirt had migrated
up word, and then Shawn saw them, the scars.
Before I even had a chance to get up and walk out in shame out of the
room he pulled me back and pushed me to the floor. He sat on my stomach,
straddling me between his legs staring.
He lifted my shirt off my stomach, and pulled it off.
I begged, I pleaded for him not to. I didn't want him to see, I
thought he would hate me. What he did blew my mind, and still does to this
He learned down, tracing one of my whipping scars, by far the worst
whipping of all, with his hand, then leaned down and kissed it.
I was so surprised I froze in trying to get him off me to stare at him
in confusing. He trailed all along my whip scar, kissing every part of it
then, proceeded to kiss all my scars, even flipping me over and kissing the
ones on my back.
I don't know if I was too scared to move or if I was enjoying it too
much, but what ever it was that compelled me to hold still was worth it.
When he was finished kissing every gruesome scar on me, he got off me
and looked me in the eye, I must have looked like I was about to bolt.
"Why did you do that?" Not that I minded I wanted to add, but didn't.
"Because. If I had told you I don't mind or its ok, you wouldn't have
believed me, so." And that was that. But the thing that weirded me out the
most was that he was right, I wouldn't have believed him.
I had always been ashamed of them. I thought people would hate me or
pity me if they found out and I didn't want that.
"That was so gay dude" I had no idea what to say, I should be mad at
him or at least a little creeped out but I wasn't.
"We're all a little gay on the inside."
The feeling of my pants being pulled down brings me back to reality.
Before I can even say a word he had strips me of my modesty, and my boxers
and I am stuck standing there butt-ass naked in the middle of his room. Oh
"Dry off" He hands me the 2 towels he had gotten from the bathroom
earlier and I quickly wrap one around my waist. The other I use to dry my
hair. He walks into the bathroom to hang up my clothes and before he makes
it back I am already in another one of his boxer pants.
"It's cold, I know you're not at your best," He taunts.
It was some thing we always did. I was modest. I hated people to see
me without clothes, even him, well mostly him. Shawn's body is just so
perfect in every way I feel ugly standing next to him.
The only thing I am is about 1 inch bigger, which was discovered
totally by accident. Which is a fact I will never let him live down to the
end of time.
He grabs my hands and slowly pulls me over the bed. We'd slept in the
same bed many times so I don't mind.
He gets in first knowing my insidious habit of going to the bathroom
in the middle of the night. Shawn draws his warm covers over us and we both
take a minute to snuggle in and get comfortable.
"Night" He said
"Night" I respond.
I know I won't be able to sleep for at least 20 minutes, not because I
can't sleep, but because I have to, with Shawn's adorable little habit he
does after he falls asleep.
Little Shawn is a cuddlier. That's right the second he falls asleep
while I'm here he'll manage to maneuver his way onto me.
I feel him move, he lays his hand on my chest. I can't believe he is
asleep already. He roles over putting his right arm and leg over me pulling
me closer to him and laying his head on my chest.
I don't know why he does this but I love it when he does. I love being
held by him and me holding him. I know the second we both wake up he will
have found some way to lay on top of me and will apologize over and over,
its our routine. Then I'll tease him and will go oh
I look at the clock by his bed trying not to disturb him. 1:30 a.m.
Wow, it's late. I'm glad it's Friday.
I look down at my blond angel purring like a kitten slowly and ever so
gently I kiss him on the forehead. I know for a fact he wouldn't hate me if
he found out what I did, but it was my little secret. My little piece of
"Sweet dreams Kitty" I call him Kitty whenever he purrs. Which he does
quite often by the way.
He purrs when he sits and watches TV, or when someone pats him on the
head. He doesn't mind the nickname I gave, in fact I think he likes it.
When I do say it he gets to me to scratch his ears, which he loves by the