Page 101 of Eyes Like Angel

“I was showing him how to confess his sins,” I excused, hiding my underwear he’d taken off, my head bowed in wary, not wanting her to see my reddened face. “He needed…guidance.”

I don’t think Sister Lucia is convinced, but I hope she understands what I was trying to accomplish and leave me be as if nothing transpires within this room.

By that time, my silver bracelet was gone, and the only left that’s left into my possession with a crucifix stained with my bodily fluids it drenched from my wet folds pulsing from his heightened desires.

26

Adrian

Before

The memories reappeared back when I was fifteen years old, where I won the tennis match, my stomach hasn’t felt good since the day I went to Disneyland. Perhaps showering with grand compliments and favorite food was the next best thing. Maybe it could be taken first place and Disneyland as second. After showering from an intense death-long match at the tennis court in a heated summer, I laid down on the bedside on my newly-washed bedsheets.

Blue was my favorite color. To be victorious, it didn’t occur to me that I seized the day—‘carpe diem’, knowing what those words meant and translated.

Snuggling up, my dreams and wishes had come to fruition.

And my life is the greatest I could be ever thankful for.

All my sacrifices and tears have been paid off.

At my door, the door knob twisted, and pushed outwards, revealing my dad at the doorway; the hall behind him wasn’t switch on.

Delightfully intrigued, I sat up and watched my dad entered, expecting my dad to give me a goodnight hug or asking me how I’ve been now that I became a star champion in the Rivers family.

He slipped his left palm and tucked it under my chin, directly angling it at his face; his closed lips formed a wide smile.

“You’re so winsome, just like your mother,” he said, his eyes raking my form up and down.

Dad unbuckled his belt, and loosened his black trousers and white boxers, slipped down onto the bedroom floor.

The lights were shut.

The air has gone colder. Muscles in my limbs froze; my heart sped up, unable to react normally as I should’ve.

Dad had his huge cock out, sprang its hardened length towards me. Instinctively, my body pressed its weight, scooting my back against the wall, until my dad grabbed me by the neck and yanked me down, stumbling onto the wooden floor, blankets flown and the pillows scattered when he dragged me out of the bed with a simple yank.

Just like my mom, Dad liked to pull things, too. He gripped something in his hand, harder and stronger, in just one tug, everything was into shambles. My blanket was thrown, and my dad tugged me by the hair, pulling me upwards, punching me with his other fist on my abdomen, until I choked out a heavy spit.

“When I say suck my dick, you suck my dick,” Dad said to me, his hot stinking breath penetrated in my nostrils. “You’ve done it many times before, so why resist now?”

“Let go of me,” I pleaded, fingers dug in.

He chortled. “I hate you, Adrian,” he said to me. “I want you to remember that for the rest of your life. You will never be good enough. You’re a nobody. You’ll never survive without me!”

My tears spilled. “Please!”

Dad chortled again, and tossed me against the wooden drawer. He kicked me by the belly seven times, before hisloafers stomped on my right wrist, stomping and stomping until he snapped the bone inside.

I cried out loud, and it had him pulling my hair up again.

“I’ll give something to cry about,” Dad said and kissed me deep on the lips before he slammed my head as the heavy drawer rattled, and he left me stranded.

By then, my right hand got into a cast that healed in three months, and my chances of getting into college with a wonderful scholarship has been burned into dust. I never touched the tennis racket again.

***

My sleeping form lunged forward, attempting to escape Dad’s hunt, but it was another one of my current nightmares, or a reoccurring nightmare replaying, as if it tempted me to lure, to love and accept the remembrance he placed on me.