"Semi-Short Stories" [ Story Collection ]

Father Issues [] 5/11 []

"Belial, I am so glad you've come around." Much to Matthew's surprise, Samson has pulled him into a hug. His shoulders ache but he returns the hug. It was polite. He wanted to.

"I'm not sure what I'm meant to do."

Pulling from the hug, Samson crosses the room. The room which is once again, red. But a more subtle hint of the color, rather than it being overwhelming. The windows are cloaked in heavy drapes to block any and all natural light. And those who wanted to be nosy. What exactly goes on in this house? People want to know for whatever reason. You have to visit to find out. Don't you want to visit?

Samson has slid a book from one of the wall to ceiling bookshelves. He thumbs through the pages as he speaks. "Max."

"Excuse me?"

"You mentioned them being able to house your seed."

"One, I never said that, and two, god, please never say that again." Disgusted. Absolutely disgusted.

"Are you going to take this seriously or not? And you know we don't use words like that in this home." Samson sighs. "Don't say God. It's forbidden."

"You just said it."

"Belial."

"My most sincere apologies, Father." Somehow, that didn't sound sincere.

"Where were we... Ah! Yes." He stops on a page and places the book upside down on the coffee table. He takes a seat in an armchair. He sits like Anthony, not that Matthew would know. "Max."

"I'm not getting them pregnant. That's off the table."

He makes a disgruntled sound in response. "You and your morals. Fine." He leans his elbow against the arm of the chair, tapping his chin with a sharp nail. Bloodstained? Probably. "Anthony has a child. Similar to Max. But born female, perfectly suitable for your needs."

"I don't have needs."

There's the abrupt scraping noise of a chair being pushed against wood. Samson is eye-level with Matthew. "Are you going to take this seriously or are you wasting my damn time?"

"I don't have needs. You have needs, and He has needs. The antichrist has needs. I'm just a pawn. That is what I meant." Matthew bows his head. He's making sure his gun is covered. "Father."

He's satisfied with this faux explanation. He begins to walk, hands clasped behind his back. "Of course. I'll speak to Anthony about Sam assisting with His plans. Surely he'll agree — he agrees to everything I suggest, you know. That's why he's my favorite."

"As you deserve."

He laughs, loudly. "I know! Thank you." He's walking past the shelves of books, his eyes scanning the faded spines. "There's still more that you must do, though. But first...a drink."

"A drink?"

"Don't you drink?"

"No, it messes with..." He trails off. It's not schizophrenia. It's a gift, as Samson would argue. He'll pretend to drink it. "It's just...I'm not old enough."

"We're in my home. No one has to know." He's opening a wine cabinet that's in the same place as the one in the worshiping room. Above the mantel. But this one had to be unlocked. "Drink with me, son. Let's make this official."

"Make what official, exactly?" Glasses are poured. He takes one when it's offered.

"Your pledge. To us. To Him."

"I...haven't pledged anything."

"Not yet you haven't. Drink up." Samson downs his glass in one gulp. His smile is bright and terrifying. Matthew tries to fake a sip, but finds himself downing his own glass. He hadn't meant to. He wanted to. "That's the spirit!"

He feels woozy, immediately. His head spins and he can feel himself being lowered to the couch. His Father's voice is far away.

"Give it a second. It's strong. That's all."

It is strong. Matthew isn't. He can't move. He can't think. He can't speak. No, he can speak. He can hear himself talking and, somewhere in the back of his mind, see his father as he carries on the conversation. It's like a dream that's been slipping away since he'd woken up, but he feels like he's asleep. Watching a movie from behind distorted, sound-proof glass. You can hear sounds and see movement, but you can't make out what's going on. What's the plot? Who are the characters? Fuck, that burns.

Samson is happy, that much is clear to him.

Holy shit, you're bleeding.

I am?

...if I have to.

You will do no such thing-

...a casuality...

Unless I come with you.

Matthew.

Matthew?

Matthew?

Somewhere, there's laughing.