Chapter 1

224K 2.9K 1K
                                    

DISCLAIMER
I started writing this eight years ago when I was underage myself and I thought it was cool and edgy to have this dynamic.
It's neither cool or edgy, and if I was to completely rewrite this story I'd make Sam 18+ from the get-go. Underage sex isn't consensual and I'm shocked that I didn't learn that until later in life.

With that, please enjoy (with a grain of salt)!

*

Shit.

Was that blood?

Standing in the middle of a grubby kitchen, with plates piled high and forgotten laundry draped over the back of chairs, there was a brutish man standing in front of me - belt clutched in hand.

I probably should have been thinking about getting out of the corner that I had backed myself into, but I was frozen in place.

He was bleeding, right over his brow. There was no mistaking it.

Had I done that?

Everything had happened so fast that it was entirely possible.

It was the first time I had ever hit him back.

Maybe that would be it, maybe he'd finally get the message that I wasn't going to be pushed around anymore. I was old enough now that I could stand my ground.

So, I stood there - stance as firm as I could make it, although my hand was shaking by my side, looking my father in the eyes.

His name was Henry, and he hadn't always been like this. Not that I could remember, anyway.

I remembered a time before he drank, a time when walks in the park with a blonde woman were commonplace. A woman whose smile could light up Henry's day.

There were photos from that time, once. But Henry had made sure there was no trace of them left within the first week of her leaving. Smashed frames, burnt pictures - the scent of smoke wafting around the house for days to come. There weren't any traces of her here anymore, there hadn't been for years.

"You little shit!" Henry yelled out, hiking his belt that bit higher. Then my brain kicked into gear that Henry wasn't going to stop. As long as I was still standing up to him, and rage bubbled within him, he wasn't going to stop.

His fist hit my gut while my gaze was still on the belt, waiting for that to strike instead. I doubled over, coughing and wheezing as all of the breath was punched from my lungs, slumping to the floor.

So much for feeling brave five seconds ago.

What had we even been fighting over? Who knew, anymore?

Last time it had been because we ran out of beer, another time it was because we didn't have enough money for rent. Whatever it was, Henry wasn't the type to take responsibility for any of it.

And maybe some dark part of my mind agreed with the assumption that it was mine.

I coughed again, the metallic taste of blood bubbling past my lips. Instead of gagging, like my body was screaming at me to do, I spat it at Henry.

Not that it did much good.

It fell short of its target, hitting the floor right by my feet with a pathetic splat.

Henry caught on to what my intention was anyway, lunging forward at me. This time with the belt. Before I could think to move out of the way, I stuck my foot out - squeezing my eyes closed.

When I opened them again, Henry was on the ground - unconscious. My heart raced in my chest, and I was still frozen to the spot.

Was he just faking it?

The Stepfather (MxM) ✓Where stories live. Discover now