The Boy Who Couldn't Love

Chapter 4: Slip of the Mask

for years now, i thought i'd escaped the childish fear of being afraid of the dark. And the monsters that lived under my bed.
but the truth is, those fears have only followed me through my life and the monsters now stand in my bedroom at night and watch me sleep; and during the day, they become the victim, and i become the monster.

I woke the next morning to the sounds of rain heavily smacking against my window, joined by the claps of thunder. My eyes stung as though I hadn't slept at all but surprisingly, I actually had a good sleep. Even after the events of last night.
I got out of bed and walked over to my window seat where I watched the rain create a flood no man or woman had any sense going out in. Of course my dad would still leave his Ferrari out, even if it meant it would be drenched beyond repair, the people of the street needed to be reminded that he had it, and they didn't.
We lived in somewhat of a "high class" neighbourhood but no one's car was as nice as my dad's and I hated that. Most of the men who lived in this street were either lawyers, stockbrokers or; like my dad, something of an architect. Their wives were stay at home mothers who lived off their husband's fortunes and raising their straight A student children.
As I watched the rain struggle to create spirals in the one large puddle that covered the roads, my mind went back to last night and how sweet Zack was for rescuing me from the cold and taking me back to his. I then thought about what happened after.
I surprised myself that I actually let it get that far when just a few weeks ago, I believed in an entirely different version of him. What reassured me most about him was how much he didn't change after we slept together. If there's anything I've let myself believe since I met him was that if that had of happened, he would have gotten up afterwards and never looked in my direction ever again. But, he did. He looked right in my direction and spent a considerable amount of time trying to find more than one colour in my eyes. No matter how many times the things that Hunter told me about him repeated in my head, I couldn't stop myself from thinking about him, from staring at him, from touching him.
As the rain picked up, I decided to go downstairs to make some coffee. The faint sounds of my dad typing away on his keyboard were being heard from his office. The coffee pot was still warm so I watched the rain from the patio area while I drank my coffee and listened to the pitter-patter sounds on the roof.
There was no way I would see Zack in this weather or maybe even Hunter for that matter. Usually, I would wake up to a text from Hunter but today there was nothing. Granted, it was still early and I would expect he'd be in no mood to talk, especially after his ego being bruised by Frankie, along with his mouth. Hunter had some apologising to do to both Frankie and my dad after last night.
I sat in the closet for over an hour while I listened to Hunter go on about what happened with Frankie. At first, he was angry about it and said that Frankie had no business even talking to me in the first place. After a while, both Zack and I was surprised to hear him say that he regretted crossing the line and mentioning Hallie, that all he wanted to do was make things right with Frankie again.
Zack dropped me home about an hour after Hunter left and when I saw my dad's car in the driveway, I was too scared to even enter the house but luckily, he was passed out drunk.
I also wanted to apologise to Frankie. My emotions were all over the place last night and it didn't help that dad was just a few feet away from us. He was only trying to look out for his best friend and I didn't want to hear it. Maybe that fight between him and Hunter wouldn't have happened if I'd just listened to him.
After I drank my coffee, I made my way back into the kitchen where I heard my dad's footsteps coming towards me and I prepared for the worst.
"Do you wanna tell me what the hell all that was about last night?" He stood with his hands out and the rage was back in his eyes.
"Dad," I barely begun and he was already interrupting me.
"And don't give me the whole 'it's nothing, you don't need to worry about it' bullshit. I want the truth right now."
I didn't know what the truth was but even if I did, I wasn't about to tell him.
"Do you know how many people were talking about what happened last night? How many are still talking about it?"
I didn't know what to say. There was nothing that I could say that could prevent him from flying off the handles. I've been here before, he wasn't looking for an answer, he was looking for an excuse.
"I've already spoken to Hunter about this so I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt here. Don't make me force you to tell me, I really don't wanna have to do that today."
He slowly moved towards me. His eyes stayed on me, glaring at me like he was a starving animal and I was his favourite meal. I looked towards the floor, only now noticing now that the knuckles on his right hand were all red and starting to bruise but I couldn't even think of why that was.
"Dad, Frankie was just drunk and he started on Hunter."
"No, no, I know Frankie and his family. He doesn't get drunk and start fights, especially with someone he's been friends with since he was a kid."
I hated how much my dad knew everyone. It made keeping him in the dark all the more impossible.
"I don't know what to tell you, dad. That's what happened."
My dad sighed as he lowered his head and shook it. He then swung his arm and smacked me on the face, knocking me to the floor. He leaned down to me and grabbed my hair, pulling me closer to his face.
"I gave you a chance," he whispered, he words spitting through his teeth. "Now, you've really made me mad."
I tried to pull away but he only tightened his fist in my hair and smiled at me like the devil.
"I already warned you not to fuck up but you did it anyway. If you so much as slip up again or should I hear you even looked at someone the wrong way, I won't think twice about reuniting you with your mother."
He pushed me back, knocking my head off the floor causing my vision to blur. He stood up, looking down at me in complete disgust and disappointment. He shook his head and walked back into his office and slammed the door. As I continued to lay still on the floor, it took my mind back to the reason I got put into a public school in the first place.
About a year ago, the principal of my old school pulled me aside and started asking me questions about what things were like at home. They called a meeting with my dad and said that they'd been given an anonymous tip that I was being abused. There were several meeting with social workers where we both tried our hardest to fabricate the truth until they finally believed us. My dad had me finish the year and pulled me out as quick as he could. He thought putting me into a public school would look all the better for him so more people would be able to see that he was a good father.
That was the most angry I've ever seen my dad. For days, he tortured me in ways that I would never want to make the mistake of letting that happen again.
I never asked, but I think it was pretty obvious who the culprit was. The same boy who for years consumed his own trauma in watching my dad form into the kind of monster you'd only read about in horror stories.