Ari's Reverse Harlem

Chapter 8 Adam

Trigger warning: Physical abuse

"ADAM!"

My father calls out via our mink link. I better go ahead and get this over with. Stalling never helps the situation, it only makes it worse. I take some deep breaths to prepare my mind to go see my father. Before I leave my room, I pull out my phone. I look through some of the photos I've taken of Ari, when she's not paying attention. I need something I can focus on. Thinking of Ari has helped me for the past few years of meetings with my father. Before I met Ari, I was a mess. I felt more broken each time. Sometimes I broke before I was supposed to and that only made it worse for me.

I come across a photo of her looking out over a valley. The sun was setting, it was close to the time for her to go home. She's looked like an angel with the light of the setting sun glowing around her. I remember in that moment I never wanted her to leave my side again, even if it was to just go home. Being away from her for just a moment was too much for me to bear. I asked her to stay a little while longer with me. I would walk her closer to her house on days I kept her out later, to make sure she got home safe. That day, was one of those days. I needed all the positivity Ari could fill me up with. I knew what was waiting for me when I got home. I didn't beat my opponent unconscious earlier. Once it was clear that I won and he submitted, I let him go. It's a clear sign of weakness in my father's eyes and I knew I would be punished for it when I got home.

I rub my fingers across the screen. Right now, this photo is the closest thing I have to touching her. I wish I was able to take us back to that day and freeze time. I place my phone on the charger, I won't be needing it for where I'm going.

I make my way down to the basement, into one of the rooms off to the side. It's always the same room. I've been coming here almost weekly, since I was 5 years old. My father believed when I was young, I needed some motivation. I wasn't performing at my potential apparently. Whenever I disappointed, disobeyed or disrespected. I needed 'motivation' to get me back on the right track. Nothing I ever did was good enough for him. I've never been the person to take a cheap shot or kick a person while they're down. It doesn't help that I look like my mother, and I have her kind heart. He sees me as being weak, an embarrassment to his name. His family's name. The Blackwood name has had a history of being cut throat for centuries. No mercy for the weak. That is what's craved across the door frame. It catches my eye every time I enter this room. It sets the tone for what I'm about to endure.

"I see you felt like keeping me waiting." My dad says from across the room. He's sitting at his minibar, drinking some type of amber liquor. Probably with some wolfsbane, it weakens him enough so he can actually get drunk. Without wolfsbane he barely gets a buzz anymore.

"Get ready and get in position." He takes a swig of his drink. "If you didn't keep me waiting so long, I probably would have let you picked out which one I used today." He smirks over at me. He tosses the rest of his drink back and places his cup down. He walks over to his wall of whips. Long, short some even have jewelry attached to them. Bull, Snake, Signal, Stock, Cow, Bullock whip. You name it, he probably has it. I wonder how much money he has spent on this wall. It's practically covered with at least 50 different whips. I stopped counting them a few years ago. He would like to 'break in' his new whips. He would call it an introduction for later on. I see him put on his thick gloves; he uses those so he can attach the silver chains to my arms. The silver helps to weaken me, lately he's been making me take a shot of wolfsbane to prolong my healing process.

I raise my hands over my head and think of Ari. My mind takes me back to the valley, where I'm once again with her. I let him secure me in the sliver chains. I open my mouth so he can pour the wolfsbane down my throat. I'm use to his routine by now. It still hurts like hell but I've learned not to fight it. I know he misses my struggles. He always laughed at my tears. 'No mercy for the weak' he would always yell at me when he got started. Hit after hit he would tell me of how much of a failure I was. I was an embarrassment! I stopped paying attention though. The only thing my mind would let me hear was Ari's laughter. Her sweet voice telling me I was her best friend, telling me how much she missed me while I was away, telling me how amazing I was. When I started to smell my blood, my mind reminded me of Ari's scent. It would always make me think of cupcakes and cookies.