FATHER PLEASE
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GENRE
ANGST
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WARNINGS
MENTIONS OF RAPE, DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, AND ALCOHOLISM
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RELATIONSHIP
MALCOLM ANDERSON & STELLA ANDERSON & OLIVER ANDERSON
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NOTES
Oliver was going to be happy but I decided nevermind, he suffers
~☁︎~
Malcolm Anderson was a wonderful man. He loved his kids and he took care of them. He was a single dad, something to be admired.
That's what the neighbors thought, anyways.
But the neighbors never saw him drunk.
It wasn't that Malcolm was a mean drunk or an angry drunk. He just thought more when he'd been drinking. Thought more about how Sarah had drugged and raped him, then blackmailed him into marrying her when she got pregnant.
He thought about how much Stella looked like her mother.
One night in particular, he got angry when he was thinking about Sarah. What she'd done. He needed to take it out on someone, didn't he?
Malcolm staggered to her bedroom. His feet felt like lead weights, making him slow and sluggish. His pounding head felt full of wool, as did his dry mouth. "Stella!" he called out, his voice slurred. "Get your ass over here!"
Stella laid in bed, shaking, pretending to be asleep. Maybe if she didn't move, he'd go away. She didn't want him to hurt her again.
"Stella!" Malcolm snapped, grabbing her by the hair. "I know you're awake. Quit faking." He ignored her wordless protests as he hauled her to her feet. "There you go. There you go, Sarah."
"My name is Stella," the blonde whispered. She was shaking like a leaf, her eyes wide with what must've been fear.
No, Sarah's mini-me could never be scared. She was trying to manipulate him. Just like her mother.
It didn't quite register in Malcolm's mind that he'd pulled his hand back to strike Stella. The action of striking her itself didn't register either. What really registered was the sound of skin hitting skin that echoed through the room, followed by a sob from Stella.
Malcolm felt bad for a moment, but pushed the feeling away. This was her own fault. She shouldn't have tried to manipulate him like that. He struck her once more, leaning close. She recoiled at the stench of whiskey on his breath. "You're just like your mother," he hissed. "Manipulative bitch."
Stella let out a pained whimper from both the hand in her hair and her stinging cheek. She never understood why Malcolm hated her so much. He hit Oliver, too, but it was always Stella who got the worst of it.
All the while, the drunken Malcolm would call her Sarah or compare her to the woman.
Malcolm raised his hand to strike Stella a third time. He barely felt the person grabbing his shoulder and yanking him away from her. He did, however, feel the firm punch to his jaw.
Stella, having been released, scurried to a corner and pulled her knees to her chest, watching as her brother confronted their father.
"Keep your goddamn hands off my sister!" Oliver shouted before hitting Malcolm again. The older man grabbed Oliver's fist to stop him from hitting him again.
Malcolm then proceeded to shove him to the ground and gave him a kick for good measure. "This ain't none of your business, rape child," he spat. Quite literally spat, as Oliver felt a glob of saliva hit his cheek.
That was the last straw. The boy leapt to his feet and swung at his father once more. Soon the two were a whirl of flailing and thrashing limbs. Both were swearing, both scratching and clawing at the other. Lost in their fight, they didn't see Stella sneak into the living room and grab Malcolm's phone.
Less than ten minutes later, the police arrived.
