All Too Well - Erik Menendez

Boy [18+]

Beverly Hills. CA. 1988.

Eriks POV:

Whisper. Ever since that party, those brown eyes have inhabited my mind. For once, something positive, something beautiful has graced every corner of my mind. Bringing me slight peace from the war zone that is my every waking moment. Ignoring Craigs inability to respect boundaries, having her sat next to me, was enough to make my melt like butter. I'm aware my inability to hold a conversation is detrimental to communicating with those around me. I'm not like Lyle for that. He could muster up the words to talk with anyone, anywhere. A typical Menendez. I am sure Lyle has already thought of setting his sights upon Whisper, and Whisper he will get. He has tha-

"Child. Is there something wrong with your hearing?" My father snaps me from any light-hearted thought I had. Bringing me back to reality; my mother in the front, my father in the back. With me. I'm in this car. With him. I lost the match. I lost.

"Sorry, sir. No, sir."

"Lyle has this celebration tonight but you are not going. You're staying in your room. This party is for people who don't embarrass their families name. Not whatever that shit was out there."

His eyes glare at me as his voice echos against the doors, I make sure my head hangs low, focusing on anything that can distract my stomach from recoiling too hard. Anxiety making its way into every area of my body. My room. Alone. Here I can already tell just what type hes going to have with me. Sex.

"But Lyle sai-"

"You are my son, you listen to me. Not Lyle. I tell you what happens, you do it. Enough now" His thick Cuban accent reigns even harder on the 'enough now' before I know to remain entirely silent.

I feel like crying, I feel like screaming, I need to throw up so bad. My feelings of vomiting only grow stronger after a few moments when he begins to rest his hand on my thigh, stroking the bottom rim of my shorts. He takes the material between his finger and rubs before wrapping his calloused hand around my thigh, squeezing tightly. I don't know how much longer I can hold it.

"These shorts look good on you, wear these more." He hushes in a quiet yet strict way. So close to my face where I can feel his breathe on my neck. I nod quickly, letting him continue to squeeze and rub my thighs, my thighs that belong to him.

~

Within hours after the car ride, the worst of the damage has occurred. A slave is what my role has been, my father leaving my bedroom, slamming the door after he has satisfied himself using my body. I knew what was coming, I knew all too well what he felt like, what it felt like, yet it still feels like the first time. However, my stomach is churning, my bowels losing all control, my body throbbing. Pain? The physical is limited, after so many years my body has adjusted to him. The moments he loses control and relentlessly enters me, that hurts, but his gentle movements, they induce feelings. Feelings of pain, feelings of pleasure, feeling of sickness. How can my body betray me, how dare it show any signs of satisfaction. The mess that was made by both our bodies splattered across my bed sheets. Shame stares me right in my eyes. I'm a sick fuck. Why can't I say no. Why can't I push him off and back him into the corner like a scorned dog. Why can't he leave me alone. Maybe if I hadn't worn these shorts today and maybe if I hadn't fucked up my serve on the court, just maybe this wouldn't have happened. I've done this to myself exactly as he tells me.

I stare into the mirror positioned in front of my bed, the mirror he likes me to look in as he has his way with me. It takes everything in me to stop from smashing the mirror, smashing myself into it. This body has caused me nothing but terror, the body he loves. The body he wants. Yet all the damage done to it, he doesn't leave me alone. I stare at my wide shoulders; the ones he grabs onto; the bruises from his fingertips scattered either side of my waist, where he's held to  steady himself. The dimples he likes to trace while I'm servicing him on my knees, and every part of my body he has massaged, kissed, rubbed, abused. He's took everything from me, my pride, my confidence, my autonomy, my life, my virginity. My whole being has been taken and destroyed. All I want is love, yet he gives everything apart from that.