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 was.

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 blazing hand.

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 father.

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 would help.

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 floor.

"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 shows me.

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 fuzzy inside.

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 coming."

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 very day.

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 the embarrassment.

"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 heaven.

"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 way.

My Shawn.

My Kitty.

My Love.