All Too Well - Erik Menendez

I Can't Believe How My Body Feels When You Do That. [18+]

Beverly Hills. CA. 1988.

Eriks POV:

I can do this. "Mom, Dad." I start, my voice finally sparks their attention away from the TV screen and onto me.

"I'm going out; to see Whisper. I'll be back around-"

My mother cuts me off excitedly. "A date? Oh now that is wonderful!"

She looks happy, almost relieved. And I feel entirely guilty in knowing why she seems so relieved; I know she's still pondering around the image of Craig and I. And I hate myself completely for doing that to her. I want to love her; make her proud. Not embarrass her.

My father however, his look is less than favorable. His eyes cut into me, they're assessing me, almost like they're challenging me. He's not happy.

"I'll come talk with you in a moment; head upstairs." He orders me aggressively.

That tone, my body responds to it immediately. This is not happening.

"I-I can't. I have to go now else I'll be late." My voice is a shaking mess. It's pathetic. I sound pathetic. But I can't let him do this now, even if my voice shakes and my body collapses on itself.

"Be back before 10 so you can study tonight." My mother reaches for her wine glass on the coffee table, meanwhile my father just continues his merciless gaze at me.

I start walking backwards, ever so slowly. A stray animal attempting to escape the firing line of the erratic lion. Silently praying it doesn't provoke a viscous attack.

I leave the den and enter to the kitchen. I shakily let out a breathe. I've never done that. I've never challenged my fathers request to that extreme. I've never just walked away. I don't recognize myself, however. I can't help but feel a tinge of pride.

I pick up the bouquet of flowers that I bought earlier after school for her, they've been sat in a generous amount of water since. I want them as nurtured as they can be; as beautiful and big for when she gets to hold them.

However, I feel a hand around my waist as my hand touches the base of the flowers, making me flinch my hand away. Darting my eyes to my father who now stands next to me.

"Are you teasing me?" He breathes roughly against my ear. His breathe floods my neck and I feel my stomach drop. The spider-like anxiety tiptoes around my heart.

"No." I close my eyes. My chest expands harshly; my breathing becoming shorter yet harsher.

I feel him shift slightly so he's directly behind me. His hands reaching either side of the counter in front of us; trapping me in. His hips firmly push against my behind.

"Dad. I have to go, please."

"So you've had me, Craig and Whisper. Exactly how many more people are you getting to fuck you?"

Guilt. Disgust. Abhorrent to myself. I feel it all.

"Please. I will be back t-tonight and you can do whatever you want. But please can I just go now." My voice is almost inaudible. Fear has asphyxiated me.

His hands move from the kitchen island and place themselves on my hips, one of them sliding to harshly grab my behind. "Be back before 10." He follows with a harsh smack. His body finally pushes away from me.

"Enjoy your date." His tone is sarcastic as he mutters the word 'date' through gritted laughter.

The temptation to grab the vintage vase in front of me and throw it directly at him; let his fucking skull crack and his brain flood the kitchen floor.