The Genetic Code

Chapter 6

Sterling

My cheek stings, hot with blood, but what's hotter is the blood boiling in my stomach. I hate that man — the one I'm forced to call father. I have to tense every single muscle in my body to pry that word from my mouth.

Father. What a cruel joke. When most boys hear the word father, they think of learning to ride a bicycle, their first baseball bat and seasonal fishing trips. For me, the word is like a poisonous black fog that brings my worst nightmares to life.

The distorted chime of shattering glass; insults slurred through alcohol breath; a boy with his knees on the floor, numb from the pain of the words, his throbbing face and aching body...

Often coming home with a bloody nose, one eye swollen shut and my entire face painted by bruises like an abstract artwork, after provoking Invalid street gangs on purpose and getting bashed up by men twice my size — because I'd rather have anybody else do this to me than him.

I'd thought I at least had immunity when the Rosamunds were around. So far, he'd kept this shameful secret within the household, just between father and son, as well as the employees who were around at night to hear the chaos going on behind locked doors, and the ones who cleared up the mess the next morning.

He'd never shown any signs of this terrifying dark side of him to anyone outside of the Crawford estate. As soon as he stepped foot into the public eye, he straightened his cuffs and transmogrified into the stoic, level-headed President of the Crawford Foundation whom people revered. Even when the Rosamunds entered our inner family circle a year ago after the treaty-signing— I mean wedding, he still kept this skeleton hidden in the closet.

I guess things changed. Maybe he's ready to give them a peek of the skull and crossbones beyond the door.

At least I have an escape, unlike when I was young. On the weekdays I'm permitted to stay in my hideout house away from the city. I chose well: a single-story house with a basement buried deep within a neighborhood heavily populated by Normals, somewhere my father would never come knocking on my door personally for a house visit. It may be a far cry from the 40,000 square-foot shared estate where the Rosamunds moved in, and I have to be picked up in the wee hours of the morning to avoid questioning eyes, but considering that I'm free from that man's dictatorial regime, it seems like a paradise to me.

I'm forced to return on the weekends, which I eternally dread. Every week, it's the same death knell that wakes me up on Saturday morning, extorting me out of my palace to return to glitzy 'Perfect' hell.

So I can't stand it when the limo shows up unexpectedly at my door when it's not supposed to, six bodyguards trespass into my home (via the spare key they retrieved through means I don't wish to find out), and abduct me to a place where I know I don't want to be before I even get there. It's so discourteous of them. They should at least knock first if they're about to ruin the rest of my evening.

I guess another evening has been ruined, by courtesy of my male familial predecessor. Let's at least try to salvage what I can of this night with some peace and quiet away from this Perfectly screwed up family...

"Hey, Brother!"

Ah, looks like one of them has come to make sure my evening is completely, utterly ruined. Delightful.

Kera marches up to me, with a spring in her step.

"Where do you think you're going?"

I release a curse under my breath, clicking my jaw. "Away from this place."

"Great! I'll join you."

"Maybe the caterpillars on your eyelids are clouding your better judgement..." I remark casually, relishing her offended reaction. "That wasn't an invitation."