Page 130 of Satan's Spawn

Granted, he doesn’t know about my random vigilante escapades, but he does know about everything else I’ve been caught doing.

It’s a long list, one I doubt needs to be explained.

“The scars were fading, I was just freshening them up. Like I do for my tats.” I toss the towel on my bed and reach for a pair of boxers in my drawer, putting them on one leg at a time as Dad looks away.

“Stop fucking around, Crayton. I know something is going on here, and I want to know right now what it is.”

“You’re right.” I cross my arms. “I’m being thoroughly interrupted from enjoying my ‘me’ time.”

His lips form a straight line. “You’re better than this—I know it.”

I run a hand down my face, so tired of the same conversation over and over again. “So you keep trying to convince me.”

“Yes, and I will continue to convince you until you finally get it through that thick stubborn skull of yours!”

I have no fucking doubt in that statement, and it’s what gets me the most frustrated with this man.

This man who seems so tired all of a sudden, his eyes sunken in more than I can remember, and I have no doubt it’s because of my return home this past week. The gray’s on his black hair somehow seem brighter, too, despite the dull look in his eyes.

If that’s not proof I bring out the worst in everyone I don’t know what is.

“Then you’re gonna die trying, Dad.”

“So fucking be it!” He hollers. “I refuse to believe there’s only bad in you.”

“Believe what you want, doesn’t change the fact I am who I am.” I reach for the towel, wiping the blood off my arm. “Either you accept it or drive yourself to madness trying to change the unchangeable.”

I don’t realize my father is holding my knife in his hand until he flips it open.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He holds out the knife. “Trying to prove a point.”

I stalk over and snatch it from his hand. “And what point is that?”

“Stab me and you’ll find out.”

“I’m not gonna fucking stab you.”

My father shrugs. “Why not? Someone pure evil wouldn’t hesitate for a second to shed the blood of an innocent man.”

What the hell kind of game is this guy playing?

My thoughts are interrupted by my father’s shove to both my shoulders, making me stumble slightly. My nostrils flare as I catch his determined gaze.

“You fucking pushed me.”

“Damn fucking right I did, son.” He cracks his neck. “Now tell me, what are you going to do about it?”

I stay silent, clenching my teeth.

So he pushes me again.

“Stop.” I warn, balling my fists.

“No. Go ahead Mr. ‘I’m Full Of Pure Evil’, do your worst.” He slaps his chest. “Stab me right here. Prove to me how bad you are.” He hits his chest again, working himself up. “Do it!”

I push him. Hard. Which isn’t difficult since I’m two times the size of the guy.