Fan Fiction by VTW
|"What more do you want from me, Dad? How many more tests
do I need to pass before I'm good enough to be your son?" He shouted.
Peter glared at him. "There aren't enough tests in the world for that, you miserable little shit."
Tom stared at his feet and said nothing. He knew better than to disagree with him. He knew what would happen if he did.
"You're dressed awful fancy there, boy," said Peter, changing topics quickly. He sniffed the side of Tom's face. "Well now. If I didn't know better, I'd say that was woman's perfume I smell. What? Didja have a hot date?" He snickered unpleasantly. "That why you're all dressed up? In your sissy clothes, with that sissy ponytail. If you ask me, you look like a fuckin' faggot."
He slowly walked around Tom, looking him up and down. Tom kept his eyes front and center. If he looked back, he knew his old man would unload on him. His whole body was tense and trembling.
Peter came up from behind him and whispered in his ear. "I bet the dumb bitch didn't get lucky, did she Todd? 'Cause I know what your problem is," he purred. "You couldn't get your tiny pecker up if your life depended on it." He laughed darkly. "No son of mine would have that problem. You're not a man, Todd, and you never will be. You sure as shit could never be like me. Not in a million years. Women were always beggin' me for it. And I was more than willing to give it to them."
Tom closed his eyes against the memory of his father sodomizing his mother. He had walked into their bedroom late one night. He'd had a nightmare and was scared. He heard muffled cries coming from his parent's room. He opened he door and stood transfixed with horror.
His father was behind his mom, hurting her. His face was dark and vicious, and he was calling her filthy names. His mother had her hand clamped over her mouth, trying to muffle her cries so her son wouldn't hear. She had a black eye, and blood was running down her legs. His father turned around and stared straight at him. Then he laughed.
He was eight years old at the time.
"Get it over with," Tom begged through clenched teeth. "Just do it and then please just go, and leave me alone." His shoulders were shaking with angry sobs.
Peter faced him. "All in good time, Todd. All in good time. Our little fun and games are just beginning. We can't hurry things along, can we?" Peter leaned his face so close to Tom's that their lips almost touched. "I want to drag this out for a long, long time," he said venomously. His voice was ominous and sinister.
He lightly kissed Tom's lips, biting the lower one sharply as he drew away. "Test number two is finished," he said abruptly. He took a last drag on his cigar, blowing the smoke in Tom's face. He walked over and dropped it into the snifter of brandy. "You really should get yourself an ashtray," he quipped. He walked out the front door leaving it wide open.
Tom raced to the door and bolted it. He slid down to his knees holding his head in his hands. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay," he whispered. But deep down he knew that was the biggest lie of all.
The next day Todd combed through every hotel, inn, and motel. There was no sign of his miserable father anywhere. It was like he fell of the face of the planet. "Goddammit!" He shouted in frustration. He was holed up somewhere. Close by. He knew it, he could feel it.
Waiting and watching.
He was shaking with fury. That bastard came into his house. Drank his liquor, and proceeded to shit on him, just like he always did. He hated him with a blinding passion.
Oh yeah? Then why the hell didn't you do something about it Todd? Why are you such a useless, pathetic coward? Let me out and I'll kill him. I'll fix it so you'll never have to see him again.
"Shut up!" I'm gonna handle it, not you!" He shouted. He pulled his black Ferrari alongside the curb and laid his head on the steering wheel, breathing harshly. He knew now, what everybody else, had guessed. He was fucked up, completely. Last night when his old man was there, it was as if he was deep inside himself. He knew what was happening to him, but he couldn't get out, no matter how hard he tried. It was like being in a lake, then someone came and put a sheet of glass over it. You banged your fists against it, but you were trapped. You couldn't speak, you couldn't even breathe. He was at the very bottom of that lake.
He had to stay in control. His life depended on it.
When are you going to get it, Todd? I am you and you are me. Forget about the others, they're just by-products. Once you accept that, you'll defeat him. Until then YOU'RE SCREWED.
"Who are you?" He whispered harshly.
He rubbed his hand over his goatee. He sighed tiredly pulled away from the curb smoothly. He headed in the direction of the diner. The Sausalito streets were busy with tourists walking from shop to shop, happy and carefree. Todd shook his head. He wondered what that felt like.
"What the ?" Todd narrowed his eyes. There was Manning. He was seated outside a café drinking expresso without a care in the world. Pete pulled sharply over and jumped out of the car. He crossed the street in a flash, with his teeth bared. His long legs ate the space between them in a heartbeat.
He took advantage of Manning's surprise and knocked the small table over. He grabbed Peter by his collar and yanked him roughly to his feet. "Hey asshole," he snarled. "I just thought I'd come on over and deliver a little message. If you EVER come in his house again, I will fuckin' kill you. You got that!"
Peter threw Pete's arms off of him. "You?" He laughed incredulously. "You haven't got the stones, sonny. And you're not the one who's in control. You don't think I know who you are?" He leaned forward and whispered. "I created you, and I can destroy you in a heartbeat."
Pete jerked his head back. "What the hell are you talkin' about?" He whispered.
"Hey! Excuse me? Would somebody please tell me just what the hell's goin' on?"
Todd spun around. The owner of the café, was in his face and understandably furious. "Who's gonna pay for this? Huh? Give me a reason why I shouldn't call the cops?"
Todd reached into his coat and pulled his wallet out. "I'll give you five," he snapped.
He shoved five hundred dollars into the guy's hand. "Sorry for the trouble," Todd said, not really sounding sorry at all. "Will this cover it?"
The owner, slightly mollified, nodded his head. "Yeah," he said sourly. "Do me a favor, huh? Next time, take it somewhere else!" He stalked into the restaurant.
"Gladly," Todd muttered. He turned around and naturally, Manning was no where in sight. "Shit!" He yelled in frustration. If he didn't have bad luck, he'd have no luck at all.
He stalked back to his car, ignoring the shocked looks from the patrons of the café. He gunned the powerful engine and took off, burning the tires and laying twenty feet of rubber on the street.
He needed to go home and regroup. He also had another person to deal with, and just the thought of it, made him sick to his stomach.
|To be continued|
Peace and Love,
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Back to Remember Roger Howarth