Father Figure

by
Guilt | Pleasure
Written By: Kichiku Neko
Art By: Toga Q
Editor: Mycean

Guilt|Pleasure 2011
www.guiltpleasure.com

CHAPTER 1

It started with a letter.

I wrote him a letter on the Almalfi paper I had purchased years ago in Florence
the laser printer inked neatly inside the embossed ivy border. I wrote only a
paragraph, but I read it over and over again, several times out loud to hear the
ridiculousness of it. It was ridiculous, but it was also sincere. He would have to
appreciate the truth for what it was.
I folded the letter and slipped it into the envelope of the same paper, decorated
with two ivy leaves in each of the four corners. I wrote the first letter of his name in
the center in red ink.
U.
I stroked it with my gloved finger, smudging the ink.
I was not there when he read it, but I knew he had. Although it was only October
and the temperature rarely dipped below the seventies, hed begun wearing his
long black winter coat. His attempt to conceal himself from the world was
pointless, but I found his modesty endearing.
I let him be for two weeks, and gradually his fears ebbed and he returned the coat
to his closet. He had become more cautious though. Hed stopped picking up his
landline, allowing the answering machine to pick up his calls and returning them on
his cell phone.
I sent him another letter. Same stationery. The words were different merely
advice:
Dont talk to strangers.
Although it was short, he was visibly shaken by it. His hand shook as he opened
and read it by the mailbox slots of our apartment complex. I stood by a nearby
counter, pretending to sort through my own mail. I savored the sensation that
coursed through me as I watched him.
Unexpectedly, he crumpled the paper in his hand and glanced around the lobby.
He saw me, studied me for a moment, then walked toward the trash receptacle.
Something wrong, sir?
He froze mid-step and looked at me, uncertainty clear on his already worried face.

What?
You look upset.
He shrugged. Its nothing, he said and tossed the crumpled letter into the trash.
He watched the flap of the lid swing back and forth until it slowed to a stop.
Nothing at all, he said softly.
You sure? I asked, giving him a concerned look I had perfected from work. I
am experienced in picking up these things.
His eyebrows furrowed. What things? He was suddenly cautious and took a step
back from me. No worries, sir, I said, as I fished my wallet from my pocket. The
look of concern lingered on his face even as he caught a glimpse of my badge
clipped inside. I took out one of my business cards and gave it to him. I can just
sense it when people are bothered by...ot so trivial things.
He stared at the badge for as long as I kept it in view. He finally looked up when I
closed my wallet. I see, he said. He didnt sound any more relaxed.
Is there something I can help you with?
He chewed on his lower lip and shook his head.
Its nothing, he said. Thank you for your concern. He looked at the card I gave
him.
I live in the rear building, I said, gesturing. Just give me a call if you need
something.
He nodded, never lowering his defenses. He put the card in his pocket and held
out his hand. Im being rude, he said. I never introduced myself. My names
Uriel.
He didnt offer me his last name. I took his hand and shook it.
Very unusual name, I commented. One of the archangels.
He smiled. It was the kind of smile that didnt mean anything except maybe that he
was tired of people making that obvious remark whenever he offered his name.
Thank you for being concerned, he said. If you will pardon me...
I could still feel the warmth of his hand in mine, even after he had ascended the
stairs and turned the corner toward the elevator. I gathered my mail and papers
from the counter and tucked them under my arm. Before I left the lobby, I
retrieved the crumpled letter from the trash and took it with me.

For most of my life I hadnt known of his existence. I learned of it from one of the
papers Mother had put away in a yellow-and-green box, a box she used to archive
yellowed photos of people I didnt know and of whom she never spoke. That
same box had the copy of her car title and deed to the small townhouse she
owned, the same one she had passed away in one night in her sleep; succumbing to
throat cancer. In that box was a copy of my birth certificate, containing the name of
someone Mother had never mentioned.
Uriel Blackstone.
By the time of this discovery, I had been in the police force for over four years. I
had ample knowledge and means to find this person. The sole biological
connection left in the isolated life Mother had given to me. Even at twenty-three, I
was excited to have a father again. I used any and all means to find him uncaring
of my own fea r of his possible rejection or his possible anger at the unexpected life
intrusion of a son he may not have known he had.
After eight months, I found him. He had moved to a suburb in a different state. I
took leave from my job to find him, to see what kind of person he was, what he
looked like to perhaps find out why Mother had never spoken of him all these
years, although she had kept his name as my father on my birth certificate.
His name was unusual, so he was easy to find. He worked at a small firm that
dealt with investments. He wore expensive suits and sported an expensive haircut.
He looked prim and unlike his age. There was a silver band on his ring finger, but I
knew he was no longer married; Id found and read the report of his wife perishing
in a car accident, the same accident that left a visible scar over his left temple. They
had a son just two years younger than me, who had survived the accident.
I watched him for three days, following him to study his routine. He didnt have
unusual habits: he went to work, took lunch breaks with his colleagues at a local
eatery they walked to, then went home in a late model Lexus; he lived in a small
gated community called Golden Falls Estates.
I resigned from my post after I came back from leave and asked to be transferred.
I wanted to be close to my father. Of course, I could not tell my supervisors that.
His existence mattered only to me. No one else needed to know.
Before that year ended, I was a new officer in the very town Father lived in and
was a new resident of the Golden Falls Estates. I insisted on a particular apartment

that was across a small courtyard from Fathers building. I could see his living
room through my bedroom window. I was happy. I got up early each day to see
him prepare for work, walk out of his apartment and slip into his black sedan.
Soon after he left each day, I would be ready to go to work myself, filled with
thoughts of him.
I hadnt planned on writing to him until a Friday I didnt see him return. Then on
that Saturday afternoon, he came home. There was a woman with him. I was
enraged. My anger continued to flare as I watched him walk the woman up the
stairs to his apartment. From my window, I could only catch scant glimpses of
them passing through the living room. I came to a decision about what to do when
the woman stayed through Sunday. Father had to be warned about the dangers
that came in the company of strangers.
But first, I needed to be sure. Although I was quite certain he was my father, I
needed to be absolutely sure.

I knocked on his door one Saturday morning. He had just woken, I could tell by
the rumpled look he had with his tousled hair and wrinkled t-shirt he had slept in.
He must have pulled on a pair of denims when I knocked on his door.
Yes? he said, his sleepy face trying to pull up a smile when he recognized me.
He leaned against the door that he held ajar.
Somehow, I got your mail, I said, as I proffered an envelope. It was something I
had written myself that morning, same as the letters I had sent him before. He
looked at it without taking it. He knew what it was.
Please throw it away, he said. Im sorry you came all the way up for it. I
frowned. You know what this is? I asked.
He let out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. Someones been harassing
me for some time, he said finally. I am not sure why or who it is.
I nodded. I would like to help you, I offered, tapping the envelope against the
palm of my hand. Can we talk?
He looked uncertain, uncomfortable. You can trust me, right? I said.
He gave me a forced smile.
Of course, come on in Officer, he said, stepping to the side and letting the door

open wider for me to enter. Let me make us some coffee and we can talk.
While he was in the kitchen turning on his coffee maker, I studied his living room.
He had a few pictures on display all four of them framed in similar straight-edge
silver frames. One had a woman posing in soft lighting, smiling happily with a
bundle of flowers on her lap. Another had a young man in Marine dress blues he
looked like him. Yet another picture had the three of them set in a faux-sky
background taken at a studio. The boy was young, perhaps ten when the picture
was taken. The woman was also younger, but positively the same person as in the
other frame. Father, standing behind both of them looked almost the same as he
did now. The fourth picture was of him receiving a framed certificate from someone
I didnt know, but the presenter looked important.
Itll be a few minutes, he said, emerging from the kitchen. Can you excuse me
for a bit also? Ill change into something less embarrassing.
I nodded and he padded past me, going into his bedroom. I went into the kitchen
and looked at the percolating coffee. The drip was slow although the entire
apartment was already aromatic with the rich, nutty scent. I pulled from my pocket
a small vial of Rohypnol that I had taken from the evidence room. I emptied it into
the pot that was collecting the brewed coffee.
I returned to the living room and looked out the window. I could see hints of my
bedroom from the half-open vertical blinds. I stood there and watched my own
apartment until he came back, wearing a button-down white cotton shirt thatd
been tucked into his jeans. He had taken time to brush his hair taming the unruly
locks that had been sticking up. He looked more awake, fresh and alert. He asked
me to take a seat while he went into the kitchen to fetch the coffee.
He came back with two mugs; the logo of the company he worked for printed on
them. He shifted two round cork coasters that were on the glass cocktail table and
set the mugs on them. He took a seat to the left of me and pulled one mug toward
himself. He gestured to mine. I slid that one closer to me.
I read the letter, I said, patting my pocket where I had folded and stuffed the
envelope.
He picked up his mug and held it in his hands. He leaned back in his seat and just
stared at the coffee. I dont understand why anyone would bother me, he said. I
dont have any enemies that I know of...
I picked up my cup and just held it, letting it warm the palms of my hands.
What about your wife? I suggested and nodded at the wedding band he still

wore. His warm smile didnt fade even as he shook his head.
Shes no longer with me. She passed years ago.
I gave him a sympathetic look as I said an apology. What about the people
youve dated? I asked.
He took a sip of the coffee and shrugged.
No one comes to mind, he said. No angry exes that I am aware of. Why
didnt you report this?
His fingers strummed the side of the mug, appearing to think about his answer
carefully. Theres nothing specifically threatening in the letters, he said. The
police cant do very much with it.
I nodded. I am actually new in the area. I moved here from California a few
months ago. He drank his coffee, listening attentively.
I am not certain what you expected from the police here, but I can assure you that
I care, Uriel. If its enough to concern you, then its an issue.
His face lit up and he smiled he looked absolutely handsome when he did. The
culmination of his charm and sense of self all came to the surface in that one
moment when he looked genuinely happy. It made me happy also, but sad. This
man had been missing from my life for twenty-three years. I looked over to the
framed photos that were arranged on his shelf. I felt for the first time utter hatred
for his deceased wife and his son. They had taken my father from me.
Are you all right? he asked, breaking me out of my angry contemplation. His
smile softened but it remained.
Yes, I said, forcing myself to return his wonderful smile. I was a little
distracted.
He followed my look to the pictures and glanced back at me. He stuck out his ring
finger where a silver band remained and regarded it.
She died three years ago and I still cant find it in myself to take the ring off or put
away her picture, he said. Hard for an old dog like me to move on.
She sounds like the love of your life. Very hard to give up someone you love so
much, even after theyre gone.
He nodded and sipped his coffee; perhaps to buy himself time to form his next
thought.
Makes it difficult to date when I wont take down reminisces of my past life, he

said, laughing. Women are kind of picky like that.

I agreed with him and held my coffee cup up to my mouth. I tipped the cup back
only enough for the hot liquid to wash against my upper lip.
It was hard, he continued, glancing over his shoulder to look at the pictures.
But I am glad I had Phillip. I was so devastated that I couldnt even will myself to
get out of bed for weeks. Wasting my life then, just wishing Id die in my sleep.
The kid had so much strength in him... pulled my sorry ass out of the rut until I
learned how to survive on my own without her.
He is in the Marines?
He sighed. Yes. Dropped out of college and enlisted. Hes somewhere in
Germany now.
He drank more of the coffee and placed the mug back onto the coaster, half
empty. Im sorry, he said sheepishly. Ive just been talking uninteresting
nonsense.
Not at all, I said and looked at my watch. Only ten minutes had elapsed. I
would need to buy more time. Will you tell me everything you can recall about the
letters? And can you recall any conflict...even very minor, that you may have had
with neighbors? Or from work?
He picked up his mug again. Theres not very much.
Well, I would know what may be important, I said. Trust me.

It took forty minutes and two cups of coffee for him to drift off into a drug-induced
sleep. He had fought the headache that came over him half an hour in and had
wanted to excuse himself. I persisted, staying with him until the drug finally made
him unconscious.
For nearly twenty minutes I sat staring at him studying his slumped form, his
arms splayed. His head was rolled to the side, resting against the cushion. With his
eyes closed and his dark lashes fanned out, he looked young, unguarded. As I
watched him, I wondered which of his features Id inherited. I didnt think I looked
like him.
I got up and walked through his apartment, exploring the rest of his place as
carefully as I could. I wanted to learn who he was. I went into his bedroom first.

His bedroom had a particularly masculine scent perhaps collected from the
cologne and aftershave he used. It smelled nice. His bed wasnt made, but aside
from that, the room was immaculate. All of his clothing was hung up neatly and the
furniture free of dust. Even his belts were hung up the buckles threaded through
the neck of a hanger in his closet.
The small bathroom that was connected to the bedroom was clean with very few
toiletries on the countertop. He was a minimalist; didnt like clutter. I smiled to
myself, happy to know we had fastidiousness in common.
He had a spare guest room where he maintained a small desk and a twin bed, its
sheets and blankets made up, waiting to be slept in. His briefcase lay next to a
closed laptop on the desk. The only decoration in the room was a framed oil
painting of an antique kettle with the word TEA written below it.
I came back out to the living room. He was as I had left him. I picked him up this
time and took him to his bedroom. I lay him beneath the sheets, nestling him into
the unmade bed. I ran my fingers through his hair; it was soft. There was a kind of
excitement that went through me then that felt sexual. This man was my father. He
used to belong to someone else and now he belonged to me.
Why did you throw me away? I asked, running my thumb along his lower lip. I
was surprised to hear myself ask the question, as if I had not thought of it. Hearing
it made me angry.
I bent down and kissed his mouth. And when that became unsatisfying, I pinched
at the hinges of his jaw to make his mouth open. I slipped my tongue in, licking his
tongue and rows of his teeth that tasted of coffee.

I really love you, I said, straightening. I kissed his throat; the small bump of his
Adams apple.
I drew the sheet over him, tucking him in. I looked around his apartment until I
finally found his batch of keys in the kitchen hung up on a small hook over one of
the cabinets. I shoved them into my pocket. His cell phone was plugged into a
charger on the counter. I turned it off before I left.

There were six keys on his key ring; attached to a metal badge that bore his cars
logo. The Lexus had a special chip the key shop couldnt duplicate. I knew one of
the smaller ones was for his mailbox; mine looked the same. I had the key shop cut
copies of the other four. I didnt know what they were but it didnt matter. I just
cared that one of them was the key to his apartment. I had one more stop, to see a
nurse I had been seeing on occasion, at the local clinic.
It had been nearly two hours since I had left Father in his own bed. I returned to
my own apartment first, taking only an empty syringe and small squares of alcohol
pads from a kit Id picked up from my friend. The four keys I had made jingled in
one pocket while the borrowed keys were in the other. I went back to his
apartment and tried the door with my copied keys until one of them opened it. I
slipped that one into my back pocket.
The apartment was quiet when I went in. I went to the bedroom first and he was
still asleep, in the exact position I had left him in. The drug could last up to 8 hours,
but he had taken an unmeasured dosagehe could wake up earlier.
Im home, I said as I sat down on the bed; the mattress dipping down with my
weight. Did you miss me?
I pulled up the sheet covering his feet and rolled up the hem of the left leg of the
jeans.
I know I shouldnt pull blood from here, I said as I took the empty syringe out
of my pocket along with the individual packs of the alcohol pads. But itll hurt less
here.
I ran my fingers up and down the sole of his foot after ensuring he had no
reaction, I worked on finding the vein at his ankle. It took awhile but I found it. I
drew the blood into the syringe and capped the needle. I could feel the warmth of
the blood through my coat pocket when I shoved it there. It was curiously
arousing. A part of my own fathers warmth could now be felt, pressed against my

side through my pocket.

I held the square of cotton wet with alcohol against the small puncture wound until
the bleeding stopped. I pulled the sheet over him again.
I kissed him as I pressed one of his hands against my straining erection. I pictured
in my head how his hand would grip and stroke it, while he looked fixedly at me.
The arousal that had flared in me spiked. I wanted badly to shove into him and feel
his warmth that way. I realized I was biting his tongue, not just licking it. I leaned
back, pulling myself away before I hurt him. He still looked angel-like and serene,
in spite of what I was doing to him. His lips were wet and looked a little bruised.
Sorry, I said and went to his bathroom where I masturbated into a wad of toilet
paper and flushed it down the toilet. I was panting, watching the swirl of water
taking the evidence of my lust away. I was calmer but I wasnt sated. I knew I had
to leave before I became aroused again.
I wrote him a note, tucking it under his alarm clock at his bedside. I took another
survey through his apartment again, making sure he didnt have an alarm system. I
emptied his coffee pot and rinsed it out. The two mugs that were left in the living
room were also emptied. I washed the cups and placed them to dry on the dish
rack. I turned his cell phone back on. The screen said he had missed three calls
from Cheryl. I was irritated; guessing Cheryl was the woman who stayed overnight
at the apartment a month ago.
I comforted myself with the thought that it would only be a short time until my
father would belong to me and only me.

Id drawn my own blood from the kit and placed both full syringes into the case. I
wrote A and B on small white stickers and stuck it on them. I drove to the lab
where I knew my friend would be working the weekend shift. He had promised me
a favor from weeks before, when I had fixed his wifes collection of parking
tickets.
Just need paternity done? He said as he took the small case from me. Nothing
of the criminal nature?
No, I said. Sample A is the father and B is the son. They want to keep it
anonymous until they know what to do with the result.
Theres a home kit for this kind of stuff now, he said.

I am sure there are home kits for everything, I said. But Id like it done by
someone whom I can trust to be certain of the results.
But you cant use it in court, he said. What I am doing is not exactly proper or
legal.
They wont bring it to court. They just need to know for themselves.
He opened the case and inspected the filled syringes.
OK. Ill call you with the results either late tonight or early morning. Ill run this
when most of the labs clear.
I gave him a thumbs-up and left. When I got into my car, I decided I couldnt go
back to Golden Falls Estates. I would be too tempted to see him. To touch him. I
loved him and I believed I had come to love him even more today. It would
devastate me if he wasnt my father.

I was sitting on the car hood, drinking a beer while I smoked. I hadnt smoked
since high school, but I couldnt calm myself down. When the cigarettes didnt do
the trick, I bought a six pack of beer. It helped a little. I sat in a secluded place
where kids often went for privacy. It looked over the town. The sun hadnt gone
down completely yet, coloring the sky a spray of orange and yellow. After another
hour, the towns landscape would be dotted with lights from the houses. That
would also be when the spot where I sat would be occupied with noisy, cheap cars
and teenagers.
My phone rang. It was Father. He sounded groggy as he spoke.
Im sorry, he said as soon as I picked up the phone. Im not sure what
happened... Its okay, I said. It happens. I think the stress of these things just
got to you.
He didnt sound convinced but he agreed. He apologized again.
Ill come by and see you tomorrow, I said to him. We can continue. Please
take care of yourself and go back to bed if you can.
Thank you, he said and repeated one more apology before he hung up.
I stayed out there until the sun had disappeared completely and I could hear the
rumble of broken mufflers belonging to old cars with young drivers making their
way up to where I was.

I went home.

The news came as I pulled through the apartment gates. My friend called me as he
was leaving work. Its a match. Well, with 99% certainty anyway, he said. Is
that what they wanted?
I almost burst out laughing from joy.
Yes, thats what they wanted. Thank you, I said. Will you destroy the samples?
I wouldnt want you to be in any kind of trouble.
Yes, of course. Already done, he said. Ill send you hard copies of the reports
through intra- department mail.
Thank you, I said as I pulled into my assigned car port. And tell your wife to
stop parking in loading zones.
He laughed. Sure, sure. See you.
I couldnt contain the smile as I walked from the parking lot toward my apartment.
I couldnt see into his place until I was in my own residence. He was home his
figure a silhouette in the brightly lit living room. He was pacing back and forth,
speaking to someone whom I couldnt see, someone who was sitting on one of the
couches.
My bliss evaporated the instant the sitting person stood. A slim, female figure
embraced Father and he returned it. I was enraged. So much so that I had thoughts
of pulling my service pistol from the holster and going to the apartment.
Dont ... I told myself and closed the shades, willing myself to step away so I
couldnt see anymore.
But the fury in me decided then that Father had to be taught a strict lesson soon.
Even if I had to hurt him in order for him to learn.
Irritated, I left my apartment again, but this time, I knew where I was going.

CHAPTER 2

I visited him the next day, as I had said I would. He politely told me not to worry
about him and excused himself, he had a date to prepare for. Although that was the
truth and I saw him leave in a neatly pressed shirt and slacks ensemble, I could feel
that he was leery of me. Perhaps he had trace memories about the way I had
touched him and kissed him that had become an uncomfortable dream. Perhaps his
instincts were strong, I didnt know, I couldnt read him. I left him alone but kept
him in my periphery. I would need more time to ready my plans at any rate.
A month went by until the preparations were ready. During that time, I only gave
him a cordial smile when we happened to meet in the mail room or in the parking
lot. I had driven by his workplace in my patrol car, catching him a couple of times
when he emerged with his colleagues. His smile was uneasy, almost nervous, as he
greeted me and excused himself in the same sentence.

Then the day came. I had taken two weeks of leave, telling my supervisor I was
needed to tend to my family business it was almost true. I packed a rental SUV,
filling the trunk with things I needed and had collected over time. I went to his
apartment and let myself in. It would be another hour, perhaps three, if he stepped
out to have a Friday night drink at a bar with his friends, before he came home.
I slipped on my leather gloves and loosened the light bulbs in the floor lamps
the two torch-style lamps that clicked on at the switch next to the front door. I
walked through his apartment again, this time to study his wardrobe hung up neatly
in his closet. I found an empty carry-on suitcase tucked away in the corner. I
packed it with a few of his shirts, pants and underwear, and zip-lock bagged a few
of his toiletries. The most time consuming part of that was deciding what I wanted
him to wear.
He had nice clothes most of them expensive with name brands. He made good
money and he spared none of it to look good.
I set his bag by the door and looked through his refrigerator. I helped myself to
one of his beers. He liked imports and he drank from glass bottles, not cans. Just
like me. I drank two Kolsh from the case before I heard footsteps come up the
staircase and stop at the doorway. I drained the last mouthful from the bottle and

got to my feet. I was ready for him even as he slid his key through the lock.
The room was dark, and although I had ample time to adjust to the darkness it
was still difficult to maneuver in a place I was not entirely familiar with. I did know
where his hand would be and where he would be standing when I heard the click
of the light switch. That was my only advantage. He hadnt even the time to register
that the lights were out when I seized him by the wrist and pulled him into the
apartment. He let out a gasp, surprised. He dropped his briefcase. Before he could
say a thing, I clasped a hand over his mouth and slammed him against the door,
closing it.
His hands carne up reflexively to pry at mine. I kneed him hard in his midsection.
He doubled aver and a gasp carne from his covered mouth.
"Don't fight," I said in a growl, dropping my voice deep enough for him not to
recognize it. "I can guarantee you will come out on the worst end of it."
He breathed heavily, trying to pull some air into his lungs. My hand that was
sealed aver his mouth, tightened.

I bet you wish youd done a lot of things differently now, I said into his ear. A
little regretful that you didnt take the advice you were given?
I couldnt see his face clearly in the dark, but I could imagine his wide eyes. His
breath caught I could feel it with my fingers. I found myself inexplicably becoming
aroused, turned on by his fright.
As long as you do as you are told, I wont hurt you, I said, taking a gulp of air to
calm myself down. Understand?
He tried to nod. He could move only slightly.
Very good, I said, taking a thin strip of cotton linen out of my pocket and
wadding it into a ball in one hand.
Shhhhh I said, removing my gloved hand from his mouth slowly. I kept
control over him with a firm hold on his jaw my thumb and forefinger digging in.
His struggle renewed but he barely got a word out as I shoved the linen into his
mouth. I closed his mouth again before he could spit it out.
Be good...
He was kicking, writhing against the door that rattled noisily as I bound another
strip of cotton around his mouth, pinning the gag in. His hands came up, gouging at
my arms. A flare of anger rose in me and I lost my composure in that short
moment. I pulled him away from the door to stop him from banging against it. Then
I hit him. I hit him across the face with the back of my hand the sound of it loud
and crisp, echoed in the dark apartment. I hadnt hit him very hard, but he
stumbled, the momentum throwing him off guard, and he fell, barely catching
himself in time with his hands. He saw the outline of his carry-on bag as he knelt
there.
I crouched down, taking him by the back of his neck and pinning him down. His
face was still turned, looking at his bag.
Thats right, I said softly, as I fetched my handcuffs from my pocket. We are
going on a trip. I wrenched one of his hands toward his back and snapped one
cuff on before he realized what had
happened. He started to panic, refusing to let me take his free hand. His screams
were strained, muffled through the gag. He sounded good.
I know youre scared so Ill give you a few free passes, I told him. I pressed a
knee over his spine and shifted my weight until his struggles slowed to slight
movements. I snatched his other wrist easily and pulled it toward the waiting cuff.

But no more...
I leaned in and kissed the back of his neck.

I will punish you for each trespass from this point on, I said into his ear. Each
punishment will be worse and worse... until you learn.

I double-locked the cuffs and left him lying on the floor. I told him to remain there
as I gathered the beer bottles Id drunk from into a plastic bag and shoved it into a
pocket of the carry-on case. I went back to his bedroom and went through his
closet again until I found what I was looking for.
He was lying still on the floor where I had left him. I could make out his shrouded
figure clearly the way he was trying to breathe, and I could hear the unevenness
of it.
Very good, I said as I approached him. I helped him up to his knees and wound
a scarf around his nose and mouth. Dont be scared. I really do like you.
I stood him up and laced his long coat around his shoulders.
We are going to go for a ride, I said, slipping a hand under his coat so I could
hook my fingers over the links that joined the cuffs together. Dont try to run.
Dont try to signal anyone. Keep your head straight and eyes ahead.
I took out the gun that was clipped to my hip holster, hidden under my jacket and
showed it to him. He took in another deep breath, his reaction to it evident.
I wont hurt you unless... I didnt finish my sentence. He knew.
I walked him down the stairs one hand guiding him by the cuffs and the other
carrying his bag. It was past eight P.M. and although we could hear activities
behind the closed doors of the apartments we passed, we didnt meet anyone in
the hallway or in the parking lot.
I opened the passenger side door first and pushed him in. I put his bag in the
backseat and slid into the drivers seat. His eyes were staring fixedly forward. I
started the car and that was when he looked over, his eyes becoming large. He
could see me under the street light that had spilled through the trees.
I only gave him a smile and fastened his seat belt.
We can talk later, I said. Were a little behind schedule.

He said nothing for nearly three hours. He only stared at the dashboard, probably
trying to wrap his mind around what had happened. I let him. I was still feeling
aroused and excited and I wanted to touch him. To distract myself, I turned on the
radio which filled the silence. Soon, he had drifted off to sleep. He would need as
much rest as he could get.

He woke up when I took the rental off-road. Dirt and rock with some scattering
of snow swayed the car left and right. He sat up as straight as he could. I reached
over and patted him on one thigh.
Youll be fine, I told him.
He glanced around, his eyes wild as they surveyed the darkness around us. There
was a small flurry of snow coming down, white dots illuminated by the headlights in
the stand of bare trees ahead of us.
I reached up and pulled down his scarf, pulling the knot loose on the strip of cloth
Id tied on him and his gag loosened. He spat out the wad of damp linen onto the
floorboard.
Where are you taking me?! he shouted, although his voice was rough and dry.
Somewhere no one will bother us, I said. Where we can catch up.
Catch up with what? he asked. He was angry and I was turned on by it...ut then,
I think I was so powerfully attracted to him that I wouldve been aroused by him
giving me a morning greeting.
In due time, I said. Our important moment shouldnt be in a car.
Youre a cop, he said after a while, his voice level. He was calmer and hed
taken a few minutes to collect himself. I was amused.
You cant be doing this...
You, I said as I glanced at him, are more important than my career. He
grimaced. He hadnt expected that reply.
I am doing this because I love you, I said, looking back to the darkened road
that continued to rattle the car as we drove over the uneven surface.
He quieted and looked down at his lap, which is how he remained until we pulled
up to a small cabin that I had bought and spent weeks furnishing. I got out first,
leaving him strapped in the seat. I wasnt concerned with locking the car even if
he got out, thered be nowhere for him to go. We had driven six miles off-road.
I turned on the generator that kicked on the light and electricity in the cabin. It was
cold, but the heater would work quickly in the small space. I unloaded the car, with
Father staring at me as I did so. When I came for him, I had a collar in my hand.
He saw it and started to squirm in his seat.
I opened the car door and leaned on it, dangling the leather and metal band with a
lock.

This is for your own good, I said and slipped it around his neck. He was pulling
at his handcuffs, I could hear the jingle of the small chains links striking the cuffs. It
was a minor struggle locking the collar in place, but it was easier while he was seatbelted than it would have been later.
Why are you doing this?!
His question echoed in the darkness, as I undid his seat belt and dragged him
along into the cabin. He stumbled up the steps, as I was walking fast and pulling
him hard by his arms, and he resisted, refusing to come along.
What did I say earlier about disobeying me?
I twisted his arm by the elbow and he winced. I continued to apply pressure,
almost to the point of dislocating his arm before he relented and let himself be taken
into the cabin. I threw him on the floor as soon as we were inside. I was angry. I
slammed the door closed, making sure he understood I was furious with him.
The coat had slipped off his shoulder. He struggled to find footing but he paused
when he saw the three feet of silver chain attached to a thick eyelet bolted to the
floor.
He looked around him then, panning around the small cabin. Every room was
out in the open the small corner where the bed was would be our bedroom; a
small stove with only one burner would be our kitchen; a small round table with
two stools would be our dining room table; a slight wall partition with its door
removed would be the bathroom. A ceramic tub with clubbed feet fashioned from
French curl shapes could be half-seen. There were cabinets and shelves and two
hardwood chairs with padded cotton seats. Except for a few small rugs thrown
atop each other in front of a fireplace, the floor was hardwood. The place was
nothing special, but it had taken me considerable time over several weekends to
furnish it.
Why... he asked again. I watched him try unsuccessfully to get up before I went
over and seized him by the hair, dragging him toward the eyelet in the floor. He
was fighting again, trying to pull back while I lifted the end of the chain and latched
it onto his collar.
After he was secured, I walked to the two portable heaters and turned them on. I
wanted to take off his clothes soon, but I didnt want him to get sick from the cold.
Let me set something straight for you, I said, pulling one of the chairs over and
setting it a few feet from him. The length of the chain didnt allow him to sit up, at
most, he could come to his knees. He remained prone where I left him, looking up

at me. You cant leave this place without me.

I paused for him to react. He didnt.
The key to your collar is in the car. To get out, I said, gesturing to the door,
youll need a string of numbers to open the cipher-lock I installed. If by some
chance you manage to hurt me or kill me, I am kind of certain youll be long dead
and in the company of my rather unpleasant decomposing body before someone
comes. That is, if anyone would come here in the middle of winter and then could
figure out how to get in. They might find our bodies in the spring, when the Rangers
make their rounds, if thats any consolation. The cabins powered and heated by a
portable generator outside. Theres a timer on it that requires a manual reset every
48 hours. As youve probably guessed, were very North and you would not last
more than two days even in here, in a December winter. The only other opening is
a small two feet by two feet window in the bathroom. We do not have any
neighbors. So, be good and this will be a very pleasant stay.
Why are you doing this? He was calm, almost resigned as he spoke.
I got up and went to my bag. I pulled out a stack of papers Id readied to show
him. When I got back, I decided to uncuff him. As I did, I saw the silver wedding
band he still wore. It made me angry.
I think its time you let this go, I said, as I twisted the ring around his finger.
Leave that alone! He curled his left hand into a fist, refusing to let me slip the ring
off.
I dont mind breaking your fingers to take it off, I said. The sight of the ring only
pisses me off. I unfurled his ring finger and bent it back until he was screaming. I
could feel the delicate joints of his digit straining from pain. Pulling the ring off,
however, wasnt as easy as Id thought it would be.
He hadnt taken it off in years and the shape of ring had taken form with the flesh.
It made me even more irate, seeing how embedded this silver ring was. I
apologized to him and ripped the ring off. He screamed the sound of it loud in the
small space. The first blood was spilled then, when the ring cut his finger open.
Sorry, I said, but I didnt mean it. I got up, taking the bloodied ring with me. I
threw it in the sink where it sat on the rim of the drain, teetering. I washed my
hands, watching the water splash at the ring before sending it down the pipes with a
small clatter. I wet a small towel and picked up the plastic box with a Red Cross
sticker on it that I had tucked into the shelves.
He was staring at his bloodied finger with a small pool of blood gathering at its tip.

His eyes were rimmed in red and wet, but he wasnt crying. He looked stunned.
I would have cut it off instead, I said, as I picked up his hand and wiped the
blood from the finger that continued to bleed. But I dont have the tool to do it.
Hind-sight, I should have anticipated that I needed to take off the ring.
He said nothing his hand was limp in my hand as I cleaned it. Some of his
blood had already stained the white cuff of his shirt.
The ring had to go, I continued. I rummaged through the first-aid kit and picked
up the roll of gauze. Its an attachment to your past that you dont need.
I wrapped the gauze around the cut finger, even as the blood continued to surface.
I wrapped until I didnt see blood anymore.
Ill change this later, I said, as I cleaned up the spilled blood with the wet towel.
Need to stop it from bleeding first.
I discarded the bloodied towel in the sink, ran water over it and rung it out. It
wasnt clean but I didnt want to care about that then. I wanted to go back to our
conversation before I had been distracted by the ring.
Now, I said as I took my seat again. I picked up the papers that were beneath
my chair and selected the yellowed-copy of my birth certificate. I slid it in front of
him. He looked at it and then at me. He didnt look surprised. If anything, he
looked confused.
Do you remember her? I asked him.
He looked at the paper again and said nothing for a while. You ...are...
I canted my head to the side. Well come to that later. Do you remember her?
Yes, he said. We were together for two weeks.
Long enough for a baby to be made, I said.
I didnt know, he said in a soft voice. I went back to my fiance then and never
saw or heard from her again.
And less than a year later, married. Another year later, had a child...whom I
might have called a half-brother if I cared. But I dont.
I didnt know, he said again.
What would you have done if you had? I asked him. Would you have left your
other life to be with us?
He didnt answer. He didnt have to say it for me to know he wouldnt have.

She died alone, I continued. Throat cancer. The last three years of her life, she
didnt speak one word. She spent her days sitting in bed, looking out of the
window. She barely acknowledged me for most of my life and completely ignored
me toward the end of hers. What do you think? Was she angry with me for being a
mistake? A reminder of a man who never came?
He was quiet. His eyes still stared fixedly at the aged paper.
But thats all right, I said after a while. I pulled out the DNA test my friend had
run for me and threw it on top of the certificate. When I confirmed that you were
my father, it was the happiest moment of my life. The loneliness Id felt always felt
was suddenly gone.
The chart with its circles and lines likely didnt mean anything to him, but he
understood the meaning of a paternity test.
That day... he started.
I nodded.
I do like you, I said. Even if you had turned out not to be my father. However,
now that you are... love you.
His eyebrows furrowed, as if he was finally grasping the totality of the situation
then.
You dont know me, he said. And I sure as hell dont know you. All I did was
father you, if I can believe those papers.
I laced my arms across my chest and gave him a disapproving look.
You are not turning this into an endearing moment, I said. You could love a
dead woman and a child you made with her, but you cant love me.
The fact that you are doing this to me right now makes me wonder if you are
even capable of understanding love.
I do, I said and got up. I love you more than you can even begin to fathom.
I stepped on the papers and stared down at him. I must have looked like a
monster to him then, boiling with hate and love for him...nd I felt monstrous,
wanting to hurt him for not meeting my expectations. He had not reacted the way
Id envisioned he should have been enthralled at finding another son his first
child. Instead, he was angry that I had taken him out of his former life and put him
into mine.
Is this your solution? Hurt me for not being in your life? I crouched down and ran

my fingers through his hair.

I will only hurt you if you reject me, I said. I dont even care if you wont love
me, but you are not allowed to reject me.
He grimaced. Undo this collar and lets go back home, he said, his voice
softening. We can talk about this. I do want to have you in my life, but not this
way.
What choice do you have? I said. Father.
He flinched as if he had been burnt, when I said Father.
I hooked a finger in the knot of his tie and pulled it until it loosened. He froze,
uncertain what he should do as I threw his tie over my shoulder and began to
unbutton his shirt. He struggled, backing away from me as far as the chain allowed.
I pulled his shirt loose from his pants.
Dont do this!
With his injury and limited movement, he couldnt do much to stop me. I took my
time as I stripped him, admiring each bared part of him as another piece of clothing
was pulled off and thrown into an unkempt pile. He was shaking probably a
mixture of fright and cold when I crawled between his spread thighs.
Never had a man before? I asked him. No... he stammered.
I am glad, I said, running my hand along his inner thighs. Ive not experienced a
man before either. But I think it doesnt matter... still want to please you and make
love to you.
STOP!
His body tensed when I touched his cock.
And you will learn to love me the same way, I told him, as I lowered myself to
take him in my mouth. He was still struggling, his hands trying to push me away
even as I sucked.
He screamed, No! as he rolled his body to the right and left, trying to get away.
He didnt get hard until I started to lick his balls and the inside of his thighs. I ran
my finger along the cleft of his ass without pushing in.
This cant be that painful, I said, pumping his half-hard cock in one fist as I
licked his belly. He was crying then, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes as he
still shouted for me to stop.

I went back to sucking him, taking the length of his cock in until I could feel the tip
touching the back of my throat. I thought about how wonderful itd feel if he
swallowed me the same way. Then I reminded myself that the first night had to be
about him. He had to receive pleasure first, so he could understand how much I
loved him.
His screaming had calmed to whimpers. He was hard and when I looked up at
him, his face flushed with shame.
You can close your eyes and pretend Im a woman. A mouth cant feel that
different, I said, laughing. You can even pretend Im your beloved dead wife.
The remark made him hurl a curse at me. I only gave him a smile and continued to
work on his erection, but just with the flat of my tongue licking at the sensitive
underside. I held the base of his cock with a ring that I made from my encircled
thumb and forefinger.
He started to scream incoherently. I could feel the tension in his balls the
welled-up cum there that strained to be released but that I did not allow. I pinched
the base of his cock even harder. I took his cock back into my mouth, working the
length of it until his resolution broke.

Let me cum! he finally begged.

The words were sweet and I nearly gave into it. This was the first crack in his
steel-like determination to fight me in any way. My own erection strained painfully
against my pants. I ignored it and continued to suck and lick.
He started to curse, his chest rising off the floor as his bodys tension continued to
mount. He was crying again; I could hear it in his broken voice as he pleaded with
me.
With my free hand I undid my zipper to let my cock out so it was no longer
pressed down by my clothes. As soon as I did so, I wanted to shove that into him,
have my cock wrapped in his wet warmth.
Youre going to learn how to do this for me? I asked.
He was sobbing as he nodded. He would agree to anything to have relief and I
knew that.
Im glad, I said and loosened my fingers from around the base of his cock. In an
instant, the first drips leaked from the tip. I pumped the shaft in my fist, urging the
rest of it to come. And when it did, it came in thick ropes that splashed on his chest
and belly. I continued to milk him until his cock started to grow soft again.
Open your mouth, I said, crawling over him. He had a half-conscious look in his
eyes and didnt appear to understand me. I held him by the chin, one thumb pulling
his lower jaw down to open it. He stared up at me like a doll with his glassy eyes
and blank look, as I worked my own erection. His expression didnt change, even
as I shot my cum into his mouth.
Very good, I said as I closed his mouth. I rubbed the tip of my cock along his
lower lip leaving a warm glaze over it. Youve been very good...
I got up, tucking myself in as I did so. I needed to get us settled and unpack our
bags. My thoughts were clearer, my second wind.
Get some rest, I told him. I pulled a blanket from the bed and threw it over him.
I dont know if he heard me or if he had gone unconscious then, but he was quiet
and lay unmoving under the blanket as I set myself to work.

It was well into the day when I finished. Aside from the watch I wore, the only cue
to the change of time was the light from the small rectangle of the frosted glass over

the bathtub. I had gotten rid of the two windows that had been in the cabin and had
bricked the hollowed-out spaces closed. The small cabin suddenly felt smaller, a
tiny, dark square of a space shared by two men.
He was asleep, his body curled under the blanket. I sat on the chair and watched
him as I drank a beer. I was tired but I couldnt sleep. After I finished the beer, I
got the first-aid kit again to change the dressing on his finger.
He woke the moment I lifted his left hand. His eyes were large with fear, but he
said nothing as I unwound the gauze. He had bled through it.
Sorry, I said to him again as I cleaned the cut with alcohol. It must have stung,
but he didnt make any sound. The cut was clear after I wiped away the dried
blood. This will leave a bad scar. While it heals, try to flex your finger so the scar
tissue wont draw your finger tight.
He probably didnt know what I meant, but he remained still as I wrapped fresh
gauze around his injury. I kissed him on the forehead and told him I would draw a
bath for him and make him breakfast.
I did just that. I filled the tub with hot water and released his collar. His
movements were pained and slow, no doubt his limbs were strained by having
been in one position for hours. He had a problem standing. When I proposed that
he might crawl if he liked, he gave me an outraged glance and struggled to his feet.
He was unsteady as he walked to the bathroom. After he stepped into the tub, I
told him not to wet his fresh dressing.
As he sat in the tub, almost motionless, I cooked. I had him in my peripheral
vision, watching him look at the small panes of window above with a sad look a
little caged bird looking at the small hatched door. Somehow, the thought of it
made me smile.
Let me help you wash your hair, I told him. The breakfast was made, kept hot
on the stove. He had tried to wash with one hand but wasnt too successful. He
shook his head at my offer.
No need to be shy, I told him as I rolled up my sleeves, folding them until they
reached my elbows. We are related, after all.
I dont need help, he said, trying to move away from me. Water sloshed out.
I decide if you do or do not, I said, removing the warmth from my voice. Stay
still.
He was tense the muscles on his body were drawn tight; I could feel it as I ran

a handful of liquid soap along his chest. He had a solid body, lean. He took care of
himself.
Mother never talked about who my father was. It didnt occur to me that it was
strange not to know. Single parents are not uncommon in this age I suppose. I
didnt think to ask until I was five. I came home with an invitation for the schools
Father and Son event. I asked her who my father was and how I could find him to
invite him....
I trailed off. I told him to lie back in the tub, but he didnt move. I pressed him
down by his shoulders until he slid back, his knees folding up as the length of his
body submerged into the water. I maneuvered him until his head was hanging over
the rim of the tub. I unhooked the shower nozzle from its cradle and wet his hair.
That was the first time she beat me, I said, combing through his wet locks with
my fingers. I lathered shampoo into his hair. I dont even remember what she hit
me with. I just remember how angry she looked as she hit me...nd continued to hit
me even as I cowered into a corner of the kitchen, balled up tight and wishing I
could disappear. I told her I was sorry, although I didnt know what the apology
was for.
Im sorry... he said.
What for? For making a baby with an insane woman?
He half-closed his eyes. No. I did love her when I was with her, he said. But....
But theres someone else you loved more, I said.
Im sorry, he said again.
You cant help who you love, I said. Just as I cant help who I love. I rinsed
the lather from his hair. We were quiet again.
What do you hope to accomplish, doing this to me? he asked finally.
I dipped my hands into the water to touch his chest. The small nibs of his nipples
felt exquisite against my palms.
I intend to make you understand that I am the only family you need, I said, that
you cant live without me...
That is insane he started to say. My fingers curled inward until the nails
gouged at his skin. He winced, letting the rest of the sentence die.
Let me see, I told him, gripping his nipples between my fingertips and pulling on
them until he made a sound. Let me see how you play with yourself.

He tried to move then, but he hadnt any kind of footing. He only splashed more
water out of the tub.
Or would you like for me to do it for you again? No! he said too loudly and
too quickly.
I am a little hurt, I said and gave him a dramatic sigh. With how hard you came
last night Shut up! He cut me off. A flush colored his cheeks.
You must have had to relieve yourself in the years that you were alone, after your
wife passed, I said and licked along his ear. Show me how you do it.
When he didnt move except for the long inhale and exhale of his breath, I took
his right hand and folded it over his crotch. He flinched, as if the touch had been
unexpected.

I will be more than happy to replace your hand with mine, I told him. Would
you like that? Dont touch me... he said in a whisper. I dont want you to touch
me.
My hand didnt lift from his until his fingers wrapped around his cock, the flaccid
shaft disappearing in his closed fist. The flush on his face darkened as he pushed
and pulled his cock through the hollow of his hand. The water made splish-splash
sounds, echoing in the little room as he tried to wring out an erection. I whispered
encouragement in his ear, telling him to pump himself harder and quicker.
Please dont... he started to say, but his words were caught in his throat.
You are getting hard, I said, cupping his chin and pulling it backwards until he
was looking up at me. Except he wasnt focused on me his eyes were halflidded, staring past me..He was thinking of someone else and although I was irate
that he was, I forgave him in the same moment. I just wanted to see him in the
midst of pleasure.
He was panting, his mouth slightly parted. The length of his cock had grown as he
became erect, the swollen tip squeezed through his grip.
Feel good? I asked into his opened mouth.
He didnt answer nor did I expect him to. I slipped my tongue through his parted
lips. With my mouth covering his, he couldnt breathe very well. His teeth grazed
my tongue, as if he were trying to decide whether to bite down or not. I continued
to kiss him, unrelenting, hard and deep, until I felt like I was devouring him. It felt
good. It felt better than kissing him that day, when he lay unconscious, when
nothing was reciprocated.
I opened my eyes to watch his feverish pace trying to bring himself to orgasm. The
spattering sound of the water became louder, almost violent as his motions became
harsher. He was handling himself even more abrasively than I had done last night.
He probably liked sex on the rough side, I thought. I bit his tongue then, trapping it
between my teeth. He cried out, the sound stifled in his throat.
Almost there? I asked him. I raked my teeth over the flat of his tongue. I kissed
him again this time I didnt let up until his body arched up and he screamed into
my mouth. He didnt cum very much, but he came hard. The viscous fluid that shot
from the tip dripped back into the soapy water, disappearing in an instant.
Good... very good, I told him. His body slackened, strength sapped from it. He
was panting hard and if I hadnt hooked an arm around his chest, he might have
slipped under the water.

You did good, I told him and wrapped my hand around his half-hard cock. He
tried to push me away but his movements were sluggish and without much vigor.
He jolted up when I pressed a finger against his asshole. I didnt push in. The pad
of my finger circled the tight pucker. Well use this soon and make you feel even
better.
No... he said between clenched teeth.
I laughed and gave him a kiss on top of his head, his perfumed damp locks
brushed against my lips and chin as I did so.
Finish up, I told him as I stood up and left the bathroom to fetch a towel. I had
hung up the shirts and pants I had stuffed into his suitcase. I pulled a shirt off the
wire hanger and slung it over one arm. He was sitting up in the tub, his knees
folded up with his arms wrapped around them.
Come on out, I told him.
He was slow to comply. His face no longer had the crimson blush on his cheeks,
but he still looked shamed, humiliated. I smiled at his modesty.
You have a wonderful body, I said as I toweled him off. I saw you run often.
Itll be a couple of weeks without your usual exercise. I hope you will forgive me
for taking you out of your routine.
He didnt answer me. His tousled hair with its wet unkempt locks made him look
younger, almost my age. I gave him his shirt which he buttoned up half-way. The
tail of the shirt covered half his ass.
The seat will be a little cold, I warned him as I patted one stool that was tucked
under the small round table. He slid onto the seat, but he wasnt concerned about
the cold surface. He was staring at the small link of silver chain, the same one that
had tethered him to the floor that was strung from below the table. I fastened
the end of it to his collar.
The tables bolted to the floor, I told him as I went to the stove to get breakfast.
Dont worry about tipping it over and having it strangle you.
I almost laughed out loud, hearing the ridiculousness of the statement. I moved the
small mound of scrambled eggs from one end of the pan onto two paper plates. I
had pan-fried two thick cuts of ham. I cut them into cubes before serving them,
adding two pieces of untoasted bread on top. I served it to him with a plastic cup
of water.
Not exactly gourmet, I said, as I slid the plate of food in front of him. I stuck a

plastic spoon into the eggs.

He looked down at it and didnt make any move to eat it until I sat down across
from him. I ate my food with a plastic fork.
How long do you intend to do this? he asked finally.
Eat, I told him. We can talk later.
He bit down on his lower lip. He was becoming increasingly upset. I ate, watching
him.
I didnt know she had you! he said, his voice was shaking as he spoke. I did
nothing wrong!
I speared a piece of the ham and ate it. I didnt say you did anything wrong, I
said.
Why are you doing this to me?!
I told you, I said, tapping the fork against the plate impatiently. Until you
understand we are our only family left.
He shoved the plate off the table. He tried to stand up but only managed to topple
the stool. It clattered noisily on the wood floor.
I am wearing a fucking collar, chained to a table... you had me jerk off in front of
you and last night you... he paused. His eyes were wet. If he could have, he
probably wouldve taken a swing at me, but the small table between us had just
enough physical separation for me to be out of reach.
Get it out, I told him and nibbled on the bread. But dont piss me off.
Piss you off? he said. He pounded a fist on the table, rattling it hard enough for
his cup of water to tip and spill. Who the hell are you to decide who I should be?
He held up his bandaged finger.

This is the only family I will ever care about, he said. You barge into my life and
do this to me...fuck you!
Tears streamed from one corner of his eye, rolling down his cheek. He was angry,
probably the most furious Id seen him so far. He looked endearingly weak in spite
of his strong words.
I picked up my unfinished food and left it on the small kitchen counter. I kicked his
stool away, letting it roll to the side until it struck the wall. I threw the emptied
plastic cup that he had spilled to the side and swept the small pool of water onto
the floor. I ignored the fallen plate of food that had scattered on the floor.
I punched in the code to unlock the door and went outside. It didnt take long for
me to come back. I did warn you, I said.
I snapped the long birch switch I had cut from one of the trees. It was still hard,
frozen. Stop this! You cant do this!
I shoved him against the table, the edge of it digging into his midsection. I pressed
one side of his face against the table top and held him down by his neck.
Its terribly wrong, isnt it? I said. Spare the rod, spoil the child...
He cursed at me and that curse turned into a scream, when I slashed the branch
across his ass. A dark red line rose; a beautiful contrast against his pale skin.
Are you sorry about your tantrum? I asked him and swung the branch down
again; the new red mark crossing the first.
He didnt scream again, although I struck him harder. He squeezed his eyes shut,
his teeth clenched. The sharp shrill of the birch was music, as it fell, breaking the
surface of his skin. I counted ten strokes and stopped.
You are never to speak of anyone but me again, I said and unclipped the chain
that held him to the table. I had a fistful of his hair when I pulled him up straight.
Where the table edge had been, was a reddish line along his belly.
I actually dont like hurting you, I said as I shoved him down to his knees and
held his head close to the food that he had spilled. But if I have to, to make you
learn, to make you appreciate what I do for you, I will.
I pushed his face closer to the small mound of eggs, his nose nearly touching it.
If you ever do this again, I told him. I will wire your mouth open and feed you
your own shit, understand?
He shivered then, his body racked with sobs. That was the first time I felt bad. My

anger was suddenly gone, replaced with guilt. I got up. He didnt. He was afraid to
move. I picked up his stool and set it upright. I told him to sit back in it and he
finally stood, with great reluctance. I apologized for hurting him as I went to cook
for him again. He sat quietly, his eyes staring fixedly at the table top. Obedient. I
didn't chain his collar again. I didn't need to.
I set the new meal down again and laid the spoon on top of it; he took it without
argument. I settled back down on my seat, with my own breakfast that had gane
cold. This time, he ate without a word and without looking at me.

CHAPTER 3

He said nothing and did nothing, even after the meal. He remained seated on the
stool, his eyes fixed on the surface of the table even as I cleaned the food off the
floor. I left the papers where theyd scattered the night before something to
remind him where he was and what he was.
I told him to lie down on the bed, something he did with great reluctance. I looked
at the welts I had left on him they had darkened into bruises. Pink raised ridges
framed the hideous marks.
Id rather not hurt you, I said, running my fingers along the wounds. He cringed,
his entire body tightening. I took his hand into mine so I could change the dressing.
He was quiet, looking away when the gauze was unwrapped and his finger
exposed.
Its a little better, I told him, as I cleaned it before re-wrapping it.
I left him sitting on the bed, staring at the freshly changed gauze on his finger. I let
him be while I cleaned up the small kitchen. The smell of breakfast still hung heavily
in the air even with the small windows in the bathroom opened and the cold
coming in, overpowering the heaters that were on. After a while I shut the windows
and the cabin started to warm again.
What will you do? he asked finally, looking up at me. What will you do if I
cant love you the way you want me to?
He cringed slightly following the question, as if he expected immediate retribution
for it. I sat down on the bed and he shrank back when I reached out to him, but
there wasnt anywhere for him to go I stroked his hair.
Would you kill me?
I dont want to, I said.
But you would.
I leaned in and kissed him on his forehead. Lets not talk about that now, I said
and tried to kiss him. He turned away.
We need to talk about that now, he said. Im sorry that I wasnt there for you,
but that wasnt my intention. I would have been involved in your life in some way if
I had known.

I seized his chin and turned his head to look at me. Thats not good enough.
Then you might as well just kill me now, he said, his voice rising to match his
souring mood again. I cant give you what you want!
I pressed my body over him until he was pinned underneath. He struggled, but it
was a token effort.
There was not much strength or will behind it. He was tired.
Really, I said, pulling the length of the chain that I had bolted into the wall in
between slats of the bed frame. He saw it and fought, writhing hard, determined
not to be hooked to the end of the chain. I almost laughed at his valiant effort. He
struggled so hard that the wound on his finger split open again. A small dot of
blood seeped through the layer of gauze and came to the surface. I let him fight,
allowing him to do as he liked until his newfound vigor evaporated, then I snapped
the chain into the eyelet on his collar.
You cant? I asked, running my hand along his chest. Or you wont?
I spread his knees open and moved up between them. The wild, panicked look
came back onto his face again.
Just stop it! he shouted, pulling at the collar so hard he was strangling himself.
You insane bastard! Dont touch me!
His bouts of terror rose and receded in unpredictable cycles. Even with the
punishment hed endured only hours earlier, he still was defiant.
Father
Dont call me that! he shouted. Youve done nothing but torture me!
I clamped a hand over his mouth, silencing him in that instant. You dont want to
say anymore, I suggested, pressing harder until his eyes grew larger with pain. I
really dont like it when you try my patience, Father.
With my free hand, I unbuttoned his shirt. He tried to shake his head, his fingers
gouging mine. I ignored him, although he was making bloody scratches on the back
of my hands and arms.
I licked a line from his belly up to his chest and from there to his chin. I took my
hand off his mouth and he panted, taking in deep breaths.
Youre going to be good? I asked him.
He pursed his lips closed and turned away. His answer.

I think its time we got to know each other a little better, I said, taking his wrists
in one hand and pinning them overhead. The atmosphere heres turning rather
somber.

He tried to pull his hands out of mine, but I had a firm grip and leverage. More
blood stained the fresh bandage and a sweet, coppery scent wafted through the air.
Do you want me to tie you down, too? I asked him.
His eyes were wet again, rimmed with red as he called me a bastard.
Doing this to me just makes me hate you! he said, as the first tears left his eyes
and rolled down, disappearing into his hair. You want me to love you? Then dont
do this!
I stared down at him, only aware of the darkening sensation blossoming inside me.
His words werent making sense; I only knew he hated me and that he couldnt
understand what I was doing. At that point, I also came to the full realization that
he would never understand it.
I got up and off the bed to fetch his tie that I had pulled off the night before. He
was screaming incoherently as I took his wrists again and tied them to the center
slat of the headboard.
If you struggle anymore, you might lose that finger, I told him as I undid my
pants. I wont try to save it.
He calmed down, but barely. He squeezed his eyes shut when I stepped out of my
pants. I was already half-hard; impatient to be inside him.
Perhaps you will never comprehend a fraction of the loneliness I feel, I said, as I
shrugged off my shirt and left it on top of my pants. I climbed onto the bed and
over him. He wasnt hard nor did I expect him to be. It felt good anyway, when I
palmed his cock against mine rubbing them together in a slow tempo. And it
doesnt matter if you do. Im a selfish shit, to want you and only you. Being with
you in some way, in any waywhether you want me or notmakes the pain of
the loneliness bearable.
I lay down on top of him without resting my entire weight on him. I held his chin by
my thumb and index finger and kissed his mouth. He didnt reciprocate, but neither
did he try to pull away. He simply looked sad; the fury evidenced just moments
earlier, gone.
That pain...no words can describe it. I didnt know I was capable of it, until I
knew you existed. I am beyond terrified of losing you now.
It doesnt have to be this way..., he said. It cant be this way.
I inhaled deeply and shook my head. This is the only way, I said, after exhaling
slowly, if I let you out of here youll always belong to someone else and Ill have

to get rid of all those people...all the people youll want to make a new life with or
go back to....
I didnt realize I was crying until I felt the sensation of tears rolling down my face
and saw two drops fall onto his cheek.
If I have to kill you to make you my father...the father that will never abandon
me.... I said. I couldnt finish the sentence I choked on the sob that had risen in
my throat.
I would not have abandoned you if Id known
I slapped him, cutting off his sentence. He looked stunned by my sudden rage. The
place I had struck him with my open palm started to redden.
Dont lie to me! I said angrily. Dont tell me what you would have done when it
doesnt matter now!
I raised my hand, intending to hit him again and he braced himself, but I didnt.
Instead, I lowered it and wiped my eyes. Sorry, I said, another apology that
came automatically but meant nothing. I didnt mean to lose my cool.
Hurting me this way will make you feel whole? He was calm when he said it.
I ran my thumb along his lower lip and smiled. Ill try not to hurt you, I said. I
didnt want to have a conversation with him anymore. Although I know itll be
painful.
I shifted myself down until I was eye-level with his cock. I took him into my mouth
again, sucking and swallowing the length. He writhed, trying to dislodge himself.
Stop it..., he hissed. I ignored him, savoring the masculine taste and scent of him.
I sucked, but the wet length didnt grow hard.
Itll be easier on you if you get into it, I said and wet an index finger.
I dont want His sentence cut off, replaced with a cry when I pressed my
damp fingertip against his asshole. The pucker contracted wildly when the first joint
of my finger slipped in, trying to push it back out. With a stronger push, the second
joint went in the mouth of his entrance was tight. He gasped, then screamed for
me to take my finger out.
If I dont loosen you up, my cock will split you open, I said. Another push and
my entire finger was inside him. His entire body went rigid. Calm down.
He didnt. His body clamped down so hard that it was difficult to even move my
finger. Force yourself to relax, I told him. Or my finger alone will cut you.

Take it out!
I laughed. Youre so tight that I cant even move my finger.
Rivulets of tears began flowing from his eyes, most likely a mixture of pain and
humiliation. I didnt feel bad, although I thought I should, probably because of the
way hed angered me earlier.
You deserve this, I wanted to tell him, but held back, seeing the fright in him
already. He would probably start struggling again if I spoke anything but soothing
encouragements to him.
Youll be fine, I assured him, slowly pulling my finger out mid-way and pushing it
back in. Your bodys just not used to this sensation...but it will be soon.
I pulled my finger out completely and spread the tight bud with my thumbs. The
pale little hole tried to close as I pulled it apart. I spat on it my saliva coating the
rim and dripping inwards.
This would have been so much easier if you were a woman, huh? I said with a
snicker. I drilled back into him with my thicker, longer middle finger. It was only a
slight change, but his body felt it. He screamed and tightened up again.
Please..., he begged, the first time he had used that word. The pain must be quite
alarming. Please...take it out....
Quiet down, I told him, pulling my finger out only to add in the index finger.
You are doing just fine....
I pushed them in up to my knuckles. The warmth and tightness inside him were
exquisite the way the columns of his anal muscles contracted around my fingers.
I grew hard, almost feeling that same sensation wrapped around my own cock. I
wanted to shove into him.
Please... Ill suck you... Ill do anything... please stop... he said, barely choking
down the whimpers that continued to rise from his throat. His offer made me stop
and pull my finger out.
You mean it? I asked him. He nodded, his face wet with tears and sweat.
I sat him up, his back against the headboard. He was panting, trying to keep
himself calm as I knelt over him my knees pinned against either side of his hips.
My cock was inches from his mouth hard, jutting forward. The tip was damp
with pre-cum.
I hope I dont have to remind you what would happen if you try to bite me, I

said softly. I raked the locks of his hair from his face so I could look at him.
I...dont know..., he started to say, his lower lip trembling, as if he were afraid to
say the rest.
I gave him a smile. I know you dont know how, I said, lowering my voice in a
gentle tone. Ill teach you. But you should know how you would like to be
pleasured in this way, right?
A blush colored his cheeks.
Just lick the tip for now, I told him, pressing myself closer until I almost touched
him. Gently with your tongue.
His entire jaw was still trembling. His lips parted, but not wide. The tongue that
slipped between them was hesitant; even as the tip of it licked up the droplet of
clear fluid that had gathered at the slit. Then another lick very small and
tentative, and then another. His first time tasting a man and it was his own son. The
thought of it was dizzying. I wanted to feel more.
Whenever you take any part of my cock inside your mouth, fold your lips over
your teeth understand? If I feel them even slightly Ill fuck you so hard that
youll be crawling for days.
His head barely moved, giving me a nod.
I am going to slide my cock into your mouth now, I told him, pressing the tip of
my cock against his lips. He parted his lips slightly, his mouth opening as I pushed
my hardened length through. He took instructions well; I didnt feel his teeth.
Very good, I told him, feeding him the thickened erection a little at a time. He
was already choking, even before half of my cock went in. His tongue was slack,
pinned underneath my shaft as I fucked his mouth with slow strokes. I didnt
expect him to be spectacular the fact that his mouth was wrapped around my
cock was all I cared about then. He would learn to be better with practice.
Open your throat up, I said. It was the only warning I gave him as I shoved in
further. The tip touched the back of his throat and triggered his gag reflex. It felt
good, his trembling attempts to dislodge me only worked to stimulate me. He made
retching sounds again and again, but I stayed in place until his spasm passed. His
eyes were watery, the corners of his mouth dripped saliva that he couldnt
swallow. He looked absolutely wonderful better than how Id imagined hed
look that day when he lay unconscious and vulnerable in bed and all I could do
was kiss him.

Its not so bad..., I said, combing damp locks of his hair from his forehead. Just
breathe and keep your throat open.
I watched the length of my cock disappear into his mouth; go in as far as it could,
then slide out. Hed shut his eyes and tears still slid from their corners. His face was
flushed and he was having problems breathing through his nose as his mouth was
being fucked. I couldnt help but smile. Our first real connection.
I am not going to hold back, I told him. I wanted to, so I could savor the
wonderful sensations coursing through me then, but he probably couldnt last any
longer. I wanted to cum down his throat before he passed out. Swallow
everything.

I slid my cock out enough so the tip rested on his tongue. I wanted him to taste it,
not just swallow it. His eyes were half-open, his eyelashes wet. The way he looked
at me then, almost pleadingly, set off the welled-up swelling in my crotch. I let out a
yell as I felt the torrent inside me let loose. I came hard in several spurts. I could
see his Adams apple bob up and down as he struggled to swallow as quickly as
he could. A trickle came out from the corner of his mouth.
Not done yet. Get the rest of it out, I told him between breaths. With the energy
gone from my limbs, I had to brace myself against the headboard to let him
continue to work on my still-hard cock. He kept on licking and sucking until I was
soft.
I complimented him and untied his wrists. His body slumped onto the mattress. He
curled on his side, trying to make himself smaller. I slipped into bed with him and
gathered him to me. My front pressed against his backside. I wrapped my arms
around him and gave him a kiss on his shoulder.
I love you, I told him. I didnt expect him to answer and he didnt. It didnt
matter to me anyway. His warmth was worth more to me than muttered words that
I probably wouldnt believe anyway.

CHAPTER 4

I scarcely tracked the days. Time passed in the form of light that spilled from small
panes in the bathroom. Without the lamps, the cabin was often dim and on some
nights, absolutely dark. I had a watch with the date, which was the only connection
I had to the world outside. Days still passed by and lives did continue, even if it
was just us two existing in our little world.
Somewhere outside this little vacuum, I knew there would be people looking for
him perhaps that woman. And when I returned to my job, I might even see a
missing person report bearing his name. Sometimes I would fantasize what that day
would be like for me, walking through his abandoned apartment, making a pretense
of an investigation. Perhaps I would make a point to ask his son my half-brother
for an interview. It would be an interesting challenge, for me to look
sympathetic as the man spoke of his father. My father.
I passed time thinking those thoughts almost absurd. I would think about them
as the night crept by and I couldnt sleep. I wasnt certain if he slept, but I held
him. I would usually lower the heat at night, making the cabin colder so he would
allow me to warm him.
It had been three days since I had tried to make love to him. Since then, he had
been obedient, as if he had decided that I would fuck him as a punishment if he
angered me. He was quiet most of the time, saying nothing when I spoke. He
answered me with nods or shakes of his head when I asked questions.
Have you thought about the papers? I asked him one morning as we ate
breakfast after a shared bath. Because he had behaved, I allowed him to have his
pants. It was the first time since the night I brought him to the cabin that he had
worn them. He seemed to be subtly happy to have them.
As if to acknowledge my meaning, he looked to the side where the birth certificate
and the DNA result papers still lay scattered on the floor, not too far from the bed.
He looked back at me. Besides that you regret your mistake, I said.
I dont think youre a mistake, he said. What youre doing, is.
Would you be able to promise that youd stay with me forever? I asked, pushing
the scrambled eggs on my plate back and forth with the plastic fork. I was looking
at them, not at him. The kind of promise you made with your dead wife and
believed?

You wouldnt force that kind of promise on someone if you loved them. I laid the
fork down and looked at him. He met my eyes, unwavering.
You mean, if given a choice, that you couldnt make that kind of promise with
me.
He was still unflinching when he spoke. I wouldnt lie. Not even to you. I
couldnt...not after what youve done to me.
Somehow I had braced myself for that and didnt feel angry. He seemed to be
mildly surprised that I didnt lash out at him. He was being honest, I told myself. I
might have been more upset in the long run if he had plied me with lies and more
lies to win my favor...and perhaps tried to secure a chance to get out. He hadnt. I
was sad but not angry.
Finish your breakfast, I told him as I left my seat, taking my unfinished food with
me.

He ate, but not much more as I cleaned up the cooking area. Half an hour went by
quietly the only sounds in the cabin were mine. He only watched until I
unlatched the chain that tethered him to the table. I left him sitting on the stool while
I went to the bed. I sat on the edge of it.
Come, I said.
It was the usual word that signaled his chore. He displayed a look of contempt
but he came. Sliding off the stool and walking to me hesitantly, he knelt between
my knees and pried at the button and zipper of my pants carefully, almost afraid to
touch me.
He had sucked me more than just a few times, using his mouth to pleasure me,
drain me. He didnt look at me as he pulled my half-hard cock from my opened
zipper. Slow licks at first to wet the crown, before sliding his tongue over the rest
of the shaft over and over again, a predicable and careful pattern. He wouldnt
take the shaft into his mouth until my cock was hard.
Wait, I told him, pulling him back just before his mouth wrapped around me.
This time, I want you to jerk yourself off while you suck.
He frowned. He didnt like to masturbate nor be masturbated by me. It was
shame the kind that became worse and ate away at him inside when he
climaxed. I always made sure that he did.

Just pull out your cock, I told him, running my fingers through his still-damp hair.
I wont make you take off your pants.
It was a simple bargain, but he knew what it meant. It would have been easy to
take everything away from him again. It didnt take very much to remind him that
he didnt have any choice. When I told him to do something, it wasnt a request.
He complied, his movements slow. His face flushed as he pulled out his soft cock.
You need to get over your shyness, I told him. You can stop only after you
cum, understand? Even if Ive already cum in your mouth, you keep going until you
shoot.
In that instant, I knew he was thinking of several things at once. One would be that
he hated when I came in his mouth. I made him swallow and didnt allow him to
rinse his mouth out. The other would be that he was trying to decide how to make
himself aroused and cum quickly, so he wouldnt have to have me finish first.
Think of whomever you want, I told him as I followed the shape of his mouth
with the swollen tip of my cock. I wont be angry.
He wrapped his fist around his limp cock and pumped it. I watched him, allowing
him a head start. He already appeared frustrated, unable to wring anything out of
his flaccid shaft. The pink on his cheeks reddened as he closed his eyes to bring the
needed images into his mind. Although I had promised him that I would not be
angry, I was still irritated that he was thinking of someone else.
I shoved my cock into his mouth so deep that his lips were pressed against the
zipper. He froze, his eyes snapping open as if he were surprised. His throat
twitched. Hed learned to control his gag reflexes, but they still came when he
hadnt prepared himself, and he hadnt. His mouth had become very wet, his saliva
running as his throat contracted, tickling the tip of my cock. It made me smile.
Concentrate, I said, sliding out a little so he could breathe. The saliva that he
couldnt swallow dripped a trail from both corners of his mouth and onto his shirt.
He couldnt look better. I wanted to cum then.
His hand was shaking when he started to work his own cock again. His
movements were mechanical, pained. He couldnt find any kind of rhythm until I
stopped shoving my cock as far down his throat as I could and allowed him to
suck at his own pace. His head moved back and forth, matching the cadence of his
right hand pumping his own cock.
I gave him encouragement in a voice made coarse by my arousal. His eyes were
half-lidded. He appeared not to be aware of me after a while, as his pace started

to pick up and I could hear his breathing becoming quick and shallow. His instinct
to survive, even to bear what he construed as humiliation, was strong. His pride
and ego bent just enough. It made him attractive; I was proud that he and I shared
a bloodline.
His breath hitched, as if he were trying hard not to lose focus on what was in his
mind. I liked watching him when he was that intense, and I always pretended he
was thinking about me.
Easily excited when I thought about him in that way, I hadnt realized that I was
shoving into his mouth harder and deeper than I should. It was after I had come
when I felt the sensation of his fingers digging into my thigh, trying to pull himself
away. I separated from him and lifted his face. The teeth on the zipper had
scrapped his lips raw. They were red, bruised. Tears were trickling from the
corners of his eyes. Now that he could breathe, he panted hard pulling air into
his lungs as deeply as he could. He coughed, bringing up the viscous fluid that I had
left in his throat.
I ran my thumb over his hurt mouth and mumbled my apologies. A glance at his
lap told me he had lost whatever erection he had worked up.
You can zip up, I told him and gave him a kiss on top of his head. I got up and
tucked myself in. I went into the kitchen and poured him a glass of water. After he
drank it, I latched the chain to his collar and gave him a kiss on the forehead.
Ill be away for a few hours, I told him. Be good and wait for me.
He looked puzzled, but he didnt speak. I didnt tell him anything further. After I
pulled at the small length of chain again to make sure it had locked, I left.
I took three days of trash with me. I needed to head to a nearby town thirty miles
away to buy food and restock the first-aid kit. Id probably need to buy a splint for
his index finger since the cut kept bursting open. On the way, I did my work call-in
and checked my messages.
Anything interesting happen? I asked my partner.
Nothing special, he said. But, hey...someone was reported missing the day after
you left. Forgot his name, but its kind of unusual. Anyway, he lived really close to
you. You probably saw him here and there.
Yeah, maybe, I said. I couldnt stop smiling. Thats it? Hes just missing?
Yeah, he said. George is handling the case. He just mentioned it in the smoke
pit a couple of days ago because his address is the same as yours, different building

number.
Could you find out more for me? I asked him. Name? Who reported him
missing? Whats the status of it now?
Why do you need to know? Youre on vacation. Hes a neighbor. I might know
something.
Ah...sure, I guess, he said. Okay if George calls you then?
Sure. Tell him to call me within the next four hours. Then I am shutting my phone
off again for three days.
Okay, okay.... You lucky bastard to be in Florida. Its colder than Santas
nutsack here.
Yes, I said, panning my vision over the snow covered fields on both sides of the
near empty highway. Its very beautiful here.

My errands ran four hours long and I was already half way back to the cabin
when George called. He apologized and blamed our supervisor for the delayed
call.
Uriel Blackstone, he said. I could hear him flipping through papers on his desk.
I think he lived at the unit kitty-corner from you.
I know him.
Very well?
Casually. The complexs mailroom is shared. Ive seen him there. Who reported
him missing? His son, George said. Said they always talk every other day.
Never missed a single call. Called us from Germany and asked us to check. The
super let us in, but everythings in order in there. No sign of stress. His cars in the
parking lot but he isnt home.
No one saw him go into his apartment?
According to his colleagues, by the time he left the restaurant it was already dark.
Not many people pay attention when they cant see shit, he said. It just looked
like he came home, left his briefcase in the spare room where his son says he
always keeps it. Then with his coat and gloves and his wallet and keys he left the
place again, just not in his car.

So he went somewhere on foot. Theres a convenience store two blocks away,

maybe he went to get something, but didnt want to drive such a short distance.
Thought of that, George said. No one saw him. The guy just vanished. His
cards havent been used since and no sightings. Gone. The sons been given an
emergency leave. Hes supposed to be back stateside tomorrow.
Sorry Im not of any help, I told him.
Such a strange coincidence that the day you leave the area, a guy goes missing
from your complex, he said. You didnt take him did you?
For a moment I was confused, until he burst out laughing.
Good looking guy, George said. Saw his pictures in the apartment. Probably
got picked up by a really hot chick and just went fuck this to his present life.
Who knows.
Yeah, who knows, I said. Im going to turn my phone off for a few more days.
Maybe Ill call you back to get an update.
Sure, he said and hung up.
For the rest of the forty-five minute drive home, I drove half the speed limit
because a snow flurry had started again, whiting out everything, lessening the
visibility. I thought about what George had said and pieced together the direction
the investigation would go in my mind.
They had no leads. But then, that meant nothing. Witnesses could come at any
time. The only detail that stuck out, the one George had joked about, was the
unusual timing of my departure from the same place where a man I casually knew
went missing. They had no reason to suspect me of taking him, but then human
bloodhounds like George who had worked Missing Persons for eighteen years
were able to sniff out connections that didnt make sense until he connected them.
Suddenly, I found myself curious about the son who had left Germany to seek any
information about his father. Perhaps I would find 8X10 pictures of Father taped
around the apartment complex, asking someone to call the police if they
remembered anything. If theres money promised, trace memories can be shaken
loose.
I was still thinking of those details, even as I drove off the road onto the beaten
path. Fresh snow had covered any trace that it was there. The day was shorter and
the sun was already setting, the white of the snow catching the dying days light.
I had one plastic sack of food in my left hand while I used the tip of the car key to

punch in the keypad with my right. I was still preoccupied as I pushed the door
open.
There was a thunderous impact and my vision went white. The pain that radiated
from the side of my head, was what made my eyes snap open.
The contents from the bag of groceries were scattered just outside the doorway,
but somehow I had fallen inward onto the hardwood of the cabin. Father held a
piece of what looked like round timber. A glance behind him where one of the
chairs had been smashed and broken told me that he had wrenched off one of its
legs. He was frantically glancing around the floor, getting down on his knees and
searching for something. It didnt occur to me what he was looking for until he saw
them the same time I did my keys, which had slipped out of my hand and slid
beneath the bed when he hit me.
My entire head hurt; it felt split open and blood was trickling down from my right
temple across the bridge of my nose to pool on the floor. I lay still, pretending that
I had been struck unconscious.
He was barefoot, as he approached me tentatively. When I didnt move, he
stepped over me hurriedly. I seized him then, grabbing him by one ankle in midflight. He kicked my hold off, barely maintaining his balance and ran toward where
the SUV was parked.
He was only able to open the car door before I grabbed him by the neck. I
realized then that he had somehow slipped out of his collar. I pulled him away from
the door and slammed the side of his face against the car hood. He still fought,
kicking and trying to free himself. I was in pain; I was furious; and I wanted to hurt
him in the worst way.
You want to do this? I said and slammed his head into the hood twice no
doubt denting the rental. I was being kind to you and you do this to me?
I pulled him along behind me. He resisted, just like that first night, digging his heels
into the snow, but he had no leverage and I was stronger than he was.
Please! Just let me go!!
His voice echoed, but no one would hear it. The snow was coming down harder,
collecting in our hair. I pulled him onto the porch, where he knelt down, refusing to
go any farther.
Please! It cant be this way! We can be family, but it cant be this way! There
was pain in his voice as he shouted those words. The corners of his eyes were wet,
but he wasnt crying yet. His body was shivering, the cold cutting through his

clothing, but he didnt want to go back into the cabin.

Ive told you, I said, jerking him up to his feet by a hard yank of his arm that
nearly dislocated it. There is no other way.
With that said, I shoved him through the open door. I followed, slamming the door
shut behind me. He tumbled onto the floor and although the cabin warmed us
instantly, he was still shaking from the cold, probably from fright, too.
Stay there, I told him. It was hard not to shout at him. I had been angry with him
on and off for minor things over the course of the days, but this was the first time I
was so enraged that I wanted to hurt him badly, hit him until I saw blood and then
fuck him until I churned him inside out.
I distanced myself, stepping over the broken, splintered chair and to the small sink
in the kitchen corner. He knelt, his body hunched over, hiding his face against his
knees, rocking slightly back and forth. He might have been sobbing; I didnt know.
I washed the blood from my face and studied the injury. There was a gash from my
hairline to my temple. It was still bleeding, even after I washed the area clean. It
took me a while to dress it, winding a strip of gauze around my head to keep the
thick cotton pad against the cut to staunch the bleeding.
By the time I finished and had shed my blood-splattered shirt, nearly half an hour
had gone by. I wasnt as consumed by the madness of earlier, but I was still livid.
The pool of blood by the door and the collar that had been left hanging against the
wall served as good reminders. I kicked the broken chair to the side and went to
him.
Wish you were dead? I asked him. I crouched down and yanked his head up by
a fistful of his hair. His face was wet. He had been crying, but it wasnt from fright
it was despair, complete and utter despair.

This life as you know it isnt worth living anymore? I continued and pulled him
up to his feet. I led him to the bed a few feet away and threw him on it. Its better
to feel nothing than to love and be loved by someone like me?
He said nothing, and lay where he had landed. I looked over to the collar and saw
a piece of metal wiring jammed into the keyhole.
Wont your other son be sad?
A flicker of life came back into his dull eyes at the mention of his son. I ripped his
shirt open, startling him.
Your wonderful son has already filed a Missing Persons Report on you, I said,
and pulled his shirt off. His skin was cold. The shirt hed worn was damp from
melted snow. The look on his face said he was convinced that I had spoken of his
son to pull him out of his misery. He filed it from Germany after you missed two of
your scheduled calls.
His eyes widened. Let me go to him, he said, sitting up. Or at least tell him I
am.... He stopped, uncertain. His eyes became glassy, welling with tears.
You only change your expression for him, I said, hooking a finger over his belt
line. And you only cry for him.
He gritted his teeth, gnashing them to restrain himself from answering. He didnt
fight me as I undid his pants and pulled them off. They were also damp and his legs
were cold, but his feet that had been ankle deep in the snow had turned into shades
of red and pink.
What can I do...? he asked.
If you could have the same feelings you have for that man for me...and you could
genuinely shed those tears because you love me and miss me...then I will free you.
He stared at me, his softened look for his other son never changing, even in the
face of his own mortality. I slapped him, my hand leaving a patch of red on his
cheek. A flood of emotion all of it negative and full of hate came tumbling
out in one gush when he said nothing.
I guess I wouldnt mind sharing a father with a half-brother, I said, undoing my
pants quickly and angrily, kicking them off after I pushed them down. He knew
what was about to happen and turned his face away. His breath caught, barely
containing his sobs as I crawled between his legs and pulled his lower body up
onto my lap by his hips.
Maybe we will make a nice movie for him, to show him how well youre doing, I

said. I moistened two fingers in my mouth and pushed them into him. His body
cringed and rose from the mattress slightly to stave off some of the pain that must
have gone through him, but he didnt fight me or ask me to stop as he usually did,
he knew this was part of his punishment.
To see how you and the other son are doing together, how were closing the gap
dividing all those missing years.
He squeezed his eyes shut on welling tears. When he opened them again, he had
shed the vulnerability that had looked out of them.
If you believe I have wronged you and that is why you have to do this to me, then
do it, he said. His voice had a tremor in it as he spoke. He was trying to be brave
in spite of overwhelming pain and fear swallowing him whole in that moment. Dont
involve someone who isnt connected to you in any way.
Oh? I said, pulling my fingers out and shoving them back in hard, up to my
knuckles. It made him wince; it made me smile. You wouldnt want us halfbrothers to have a loving relationship, too? Maybe all this time hes been thinking
about you in this way like I have, but just hasnt had the balls to see it through.
Shut up! It took all he had left in him to shout those two words. Dont you dare

I pushed the head of my cock against his slightly opened bud then, not the kind of
opening that would make the entry easy, nor was I completely hard. I wanted just
to silence his words, to hear him scream instead. Perhaps have him beg for my
forgiveness or tell me hed made a mistake in trying to run. Anything else but this
insistence on defending a half-brother that I didnt know, one he clearly loved
more.
I pushed against him the small hole felt impossible to penetrate. I only pressed in
further, by using more force. He started to scream, his body twisting to pull himself
away from me, when the rim of his puckered opening started to give. It was being
forced open, perhaps tearing it a little in doing so. I didnt stop.
You were saying what? I shouldnt dare what? I asked. The tightness hurt, but I
didnt allow it to show. I continued to drill into him, not stopping until his little bud
gave way and swallowed the thick crown. He let out a cry when it did the small
point our connection made, the moment that I took his virginity.
The vise-like grip that clamped down on my cock then didnt feel too good, but
the very thought that I was inside him was exquisite. I had made a kind of intimate
connection with him that no one else had ever made with him before. It got me

hard. I smiled down at him.

I really love you, I told him.
He didnt acknowledge me. He had screwed his eyes shut, trying to endure. Itll
hurt less if youd stop tightening up....
He ignored me. I spat in the palm of my hand and rubbed the saliva on my shaft
wetting it as best I could before I slid further into him. He was still drawn tight
and it still pained me to go in. It was a good kind of pain, though, the kind that I
would remember and savor in my memories.
...unless you want to be torn up, force yourself to relax.
The advice probably sounded ridiculous to him. His eyes opened, trying to stare
through me.
How dare you say you love me as you rape me? The words were hissed through
clenched teeth. I leaned in and cupped his face, my thumb stroking his feverish
cheek.
Since you will not acknowledge me in other ways, I told him. This is my way.
I held his face, forcing him to look at me as I rolled my hips inward slowly,
screwing my cock into the hot, tight passage. It was gradual, going deeper and
deeper inside. He was sobbing openly, the pain probably taking the remains of his
will. The quickly recovered rebelliousness was gone as more of his inner-most self
was being taken. Devoured. My arousal only peaked with each little bit I took
from him.

I also realized then that I only wanted him that way. To own him that completely. I
would not have been satisfied with him calling himself my father, our relationship
reduced to occasional phone calls.
This isnt about you being someone who fathered me twenty-three years ago, I
told him. This is about my love for you. This is about our future.
There is...no future... he gasped. The rest of the sentence was replaced with a
sharp intake of breath that silenced him. I was inside him completely. I bent down
and gave him a kiss.
You feel very good, I told him. So much better than your mouth.
I pulled out all the way with the rim of his bud still clinging to the head of my cock
tenting the mouth outward until it let go. I waited for a couple of seconds before
I pressed it back in. It was a little easier with each re-entry, but he was still tense,
his tears hadnt stopped flowing.
I cant...take it..., he finally said. His hands came up to grip my arms.
Please...take it out....
Itll get better, I promised him and gave him another kiss. Just endure it. Itll
hurt a little, but this is something youll get used to.
I slid my hands back, resting them on his hips. He shook his head when I started
to thrust in and out of him in shallow jabs. A couple of inches out and back in. His
insides contracted, trying to be rid of the foreign thing inside him that was hurting.
The contractions only massaged and squeezed my shaft wonderfully, adding to the
pleasure that was spreading through me. I could almost taste him.
Whenever he could catch his breath, he begged. However, no matter how hard
my strokes were, he didnt resort to bargaining with me. He didnt give up what I
wanted from him. He took the pain that he could barely withstand, but he clung to
his past and refused to give them up, even though he was being broken.
I didnt mind. Id always love him, no matter what he was. Even shattered, Id still
cherish each piece of him.
He was struggling again when my pace quickened. My grip on his hips hardened,
bruising them. My head started to hurt again, my vision hazy. When I felt a trail of
blood trickle from my wound, I was reminded that I was suppose to punish him.
Hurt him for his disobedience.
You wont try to run away again...!
He probably couldnt hear me. His screams were loud, filling the small space of

the cabin. I was still fucking him hard, even as I saw droplets of my own blood
dotting his thighs creating their own lines on his pale skin as they slid down. The
harder and faster my thrust, the more I bled. I couldnt stop. I couldnt even stop
when my vision went white, then gradually dimmed, darkening to gray.
I was still conscious, although I know my own body had given out. I had cum so
hard that I had lost some moments. When I became aware of myself again, I was
lying on top of him my cock, although spent was still lodged inside him. I
didnt have to look to know he had passed out. His breathing wasnt as labored
and difficult. His body that had been twisting underneath, no longer moved.
I was still bleeding, my head was spinning. I lay still, my head resting on his
shoulder waiting for the disorienting sensation to pass. The rest of my body was
different. An electric-like prickling that radiated strongly from my groin and
dispersed throughout my body was still strong. Id had one of the strongest
climaxes of my life. Even the tips of my fingers were numb.
I had no notion of the time, except that the cabin had grown completely dark.
There were only sensations and the slight sounds of Fathers breathing. And for the
first time since wed been together, there was a feeling of fulfillment. Even if it was
temporary. For those few sweet moments, I felt whole.
Id finally been made whole.

CHAPTER 5

The senior Superintendent of Golden Falls Estates was a middle-aged man with a
particularly hefty beer belly hanging over his belt line, stretching the denim cover-all
against its limits. His scarce hairline made his head look bigger than it should
almost in a cartoonish way.
He hurried ahead; his thick legs had to move quicker than the two men walking
behind.
Im sorry to hear about your father, the Superintendent said, stopping at the
door. He jammed the key that was in his hand into the lock and turned it a small
click sounded and he turned the knob, opening the door for them.
Thanks, Mr. Lieberman, Philip Blackstone said.
You can stay as long as you like, Lieberman said. The owners understand.
Please thank them for me, sir, Blackstone added.
Another nod and Lieberman excused himself, hurrying back toward the direction
theyd come from.

You sure you want to stay here? George Conners asked, following Blackstone
into the apartment and shutting the door.
Yeah, Blackstone said, almost a whisper. He swept his gaze to the right and to
the left carefully, as if to capture anything that might be different from the last
time he was here. Just in case he comes back....
How long ago were you here?
Maybe a year, Blackstone said, stepping into the kitchen. The heel of his shoe
left the carpet and clacked on the linoleum. Conners didnt follow him. Listening,
he tracked Blackstones shoes past where he figured the stove would be and heard
him pause where the refrigerator should be. Only earn thirty leave days a year,
and that doesnt mean we get to take it. Were always short of manpower.
I know, Conners said, going into the living room. He paused at a shelf where
framed pictures were displayed. He studied them again. Did six years in the Air

Force. Same boss. Same shit.

Blackstone emerged from the kitchen and joined him in the living room. He stood
beside Conners, looking at the pictures. There was a pronounced frown on
Blackstones face, as if he were trying to hold back emotions that threatened to
overcome him.
Were trying, Kid, Conners said, resting one hand on Blackstones shoulder.
Ill do my best to bring him home.
Silence a long period passed between the two men until Conners squeezed
Blackstones shoulder and let go.
I have some things for you to look at, Conners said. In the bedroom.
Blackstone took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He nodded and followed
Conners into the next room.
The room was serene, neat. The bed was made. The vertical blinds were still
drawn back and the days light spilled through the clean window panes.
According to the timeline I have, Conners said, he left dinner at an Italian place
near his work a little past eight P.M. His friends could only guestimate since he was
the first to leave. That was confirmed by his last known credit card transaction. He
had a routine of filling his gas tank every Friday after work, prior to coming home,
a way for him to get ready for the coming work week.
Blackstone nodded. He does that, he said. He walked to the dresser, pulled one
of the drawers out and studied the contents. Hes always been a man of routine,
to the point that you could set a clock by him.
Right. It was eight twenty-one P.M. when he ran his card at the self-serve Shell
two blocks away. He did that to cope, Blackstone said, closing the top drawer.
He pulled open the next one.
Pardon?
After Mom died, he was really messed up. It took months to make him see a
psychiatrist. The doctor said hed become very focused on having a fixed routine
and being very neat...well, a lot more than he used to be, just to have something
tangible. Kind of like a crutch to replace Mom.
I can tell hes very fastidious, Conners said. Thats why I am concerned about
his wardrobe and toiletries.
Sir?

Conners gave the puzzled young man a smile and gestured for him to open the
closet door. Blackstone abandoned the dresser and pulled the bi-fold door open.
He frowned. Where the dress shirts hung, there were four empty hangers. Three
empty pant hangers were stuck between two pair of slacks.
This would suggest that he left voluntarily, packing up for about a weeks
vacation, although hed made preparations for the coming Monday but he
didnt mention this excursion to the friends hed dined with earlier.
His carry-on bag is gone, too, Blackstone said, looking at the emptied spot
where he knew the case should be. A black and red one I bought him two
Christmases ago.
His basic toiletries are also gone from the bathroom, Conners said. Blackstone
sat down on the edge of the bed, holding his head with one hand.
I dont know what this means, he said. He wouldnt have packed up and left
just like that without telling me...or anyone.
Conners shoved his hands into his coat pockets. I dont think he did.
Then? Blackstone asked, looking up.
I have no names in the suspect pool, Conners said. Everyone spoke highly of
him. He wasnt depressed. He hadnt discussed any impromptu travel plans. Its
especially troubling since he didnt drive his own car and hasnt used his credit
cards.
There are no leads, Blackstone summarized.
I have only theories, Conners said. And they seem to contradict one another.
Meaning?
Everything about this says this may be a stranger abduction, Conners said. But
this person doesnt seem to be a stranger to your father.
Blackstones eyebrows knitted.
Whoever took your father, Conners continued, understood your fathers habits,
as set as they were; was able to get close enough to gain access to this apartment
to pack a bag for him; get into your fathers life without alarming him or appearing
unusual enough for him to say something to someone.
Blackstone looked down at his hands, one twisting the other. I dont know
anyone like that, he said.
Expected, Conners said. Since youll be staying here, may I ask you to do

something for me?

Anything to find him.
If we go on the theory that this person who took your father is known to him,
then there could be a transference of sorts, between them, Conners said. He
paused to study Blackstones confused look at him. Short version whenever
two people have contact with one another, they each take something from the
other from the most obvious to the most minute and unseen form: Law of
Transference.
Meaning...?
Conners scanned the bedroom. Cant pull in CSI to dust this place since we
cant prove a crime occurred, Conners said. But Ill bet theres something here,
in this apartment, that connects that person to your father. Ill give you
instructions.
It took a while to clean up the blood. The gash on my head appeared to have split
further and dozens of blood-soaked cotton pads later, it stopped. I stared at the
bloodied cotton in the sink, the bright red casting an unholy sheen. I looked up into
the small mirror. I was pale and looked as bad as I felt.
It was early morning, although no light had spilled from the window panes yet. I
had barely slept an unusual mix of the enthrallment of finally being with Father,
and a nagging headache had kept me up. I splashed more water on my face, cold
this time. I felt only marginally better.
Although all I could see was Fathers shrouded shadow beneath the covers, I
knew he was still sleeping there was a steady rhythm to his breathing. He hadnt
woken since hed gone unconscious last night.
I took a seat at the table wanting a drink in the worst way, but knowing itd
make my head hurt even worse. Somehow, the situation had not gone the way Id
wanted...although I had what I wanted. Id told him that I didnt care if he loved
me. It was a lie. I did. And our first joining had been what I needed that
physical connection that Ive never had with another human being. At moments,
then and after, Id felt right with the world. However, now that hours had gone by,
I felt empty. Lost again. I might have sat there and cried like a little kid, if I didnt
think Id just feel worse.
I sat at the table until the suns early light started to seep through the frosted glass
and had lightened the cabin a bit. At some point, he must have awakened, but he
lay still. Perhaps hed willed himself to stay perfectly in place, just so I wouldnt be

tempted to go to him. But now that I could see some features of his face, I could
see that his eyes were open and they were staring fixedly at the ceiling almost
like a porcelain doll someone had thrown away joints broken and the once
smooth face cracked. He lay there, unmoving, the only sign of life the slight rise and
fall of his chest.
I went to him later, when more light poured into the room. I sat him down on the
chair so I could fix his finger. The digit jutted out with a slight bend, while the other
fingers curled. I knew he was in pain, although he didnt make a sound as I
unrolled the soiled bandage. The cut no longer healed. The torn flesh had
blackened, rotted. Gangrene had set in. I knew he would lose that finger soon and
it would need to be amputated in matter of days.
Im sorry, I told him as I cleaned the wound.
He didnt answer me. He was used to my apologies and understood they meant
nothing.
I think I would be content if nothing existed in this world, I said. I could feel my
throat burn as I spoke. My eyes watered. And there was only you and me. I want
nothing else.
He looked up at me finally, when a tear rolled from my eye and the droplet landed
on the gauze I was wrapping around his finger, soaking into the fabric. I was
startled to see it. Then other tears came, the flood that followed after the dam
broke.
He said nothing as he pressed a hand against the side of my wet cheek. He pulled
me toward him and pressed my head against his shoulder. I broke out in loud sobs
crying like a damn kid. The last time Id cried that hard was when Mother had
beaten me. Recalling that bitter memory right then made me hate Mother for the
first time in my life. I didn't want to think about her then, not when Father was
doing something she had never done for me. He didn't say anything as his good
hand stroked my hair.

CHAPTER 6

A day had passed quietly without a call from Blackstone. Conners was
peripherally aware of this as he shuffled through other cases that sat unsolved in
neatly labeled folders stacked on one corner of his desk. There was something that
pulled at him, tugging his guts about this case something that he felt strongly he
did not want to know, as if the secret would devastate him.
And it did. The call came from Blackstone early the next day, as he was waiting for
his coffee at a Starbucks drive-through on his way to work.
In one of Fathers pants pockets in the closet, Blackstone began, speaking
slowly, I found a business card.
When Blackstone said the name, Conners felt his throat go dry. The unsettled
sensation hed felt all those days surfaced.
Shit... Conners said.
Sir?
Never mind. He was interrupted by a woman clad in a logod apron who leaned
out of the small drive-through window to give him his coffee. Conners took it, gave
her a nod and drove away, his ear still planted against the cellphone. His hands
were shaking, he realized. He pulled into a slot of the parking lot.
Can you get hold of the super and have him meet me at his office in an hour?
Yes. Is something wrong?
Working off a hunch. Could be nothing.
There was a momentary silence on the other end of the phone, most likely
Blackstone contemplating whether or not he needed details or reasons, and then
deciding he didnt.
Ill see you soon, Mr. Conners, he said, and hung up.
Conners tented the business card between his thumb and forefinger. He looked
down at the card again, re-reading the name that was embossed in the center,
under the police shield.
Do you know him, sir? Blackstone asked finally.
Yes, Conners answered, glancing over. Hes one of ours.

Conners pushed himself off the couch and stood up. He walked over to the
window and looked out.
Is this important? Blackstone asked, rising from his seat to stand next to him,
looking at what hed been staring at the apartment building that was across the
parking lot.
Dont know if it is, Conners said, giving Blackstone a reassuring smile. When
there are no solid leads, all we can do is pull a thread to follow. Sometimes it
means nothing.
Why would my father know a cop?
It wouldnt be unusual for them to be acquainted. The apartment complex shares
a common mailroom, Conners said, patting Blackstone on the shoulder, giving it a
squeeze before starting to shuffle toward the door. I am going to see Lieberman
for a few minutes and then return to the station. Can you go through more of your
fathers things and see what else you can pull up for me?
Of course, Blackstone said. A pause, his voice softening. You will tell me
everything, right? Even if its not favorable? Even if its bad news, I think not
knowing would be so much worse.
Blackstones voice wavered on the last sentence. Conners turned away then,
allowing Blackstone to keep his composure.
I know, Conners said. I will not keep any secrets from you.
With that said, he strode through the living room and let himself out.
Are you sure? Lieberman asked, even as he sorted through a handful of similar
bronze-colored keys bundled in a large silver ring. They were standing in front of
an apartment marked 3E. Shouldnt there be some kind of...warrant or
something?
We are not looking for or taking anything, Conners said. I just need to see one
thing.
Somehow this feels wrong, Lieberman said, selecting one key out of the bunch.
He slid it into the keyhole but hesitated before turning it.
Ill take full responsibility, Conners said, nodding for Lieberman to continue.
My only focus now is to find Mr. Blackstone.
Another few seconds of uncomfortable hesitation, Lieberman turned the key. The
lock disengaged with a click and the door opened. Although it was still early in the

day, the apartment was dark. The blinds were drawn. Conners clicked on the
rooms light and stepped in first. Lieberman lingered by the doorway.
The apartment had the same layout as Blackstones, Conners noticed as soon as
he walked through the apartment, clicking on the lights in each room as he did so.
Considerably less furniture and the extra room had been left empty. There wasnt
even a television or a stereo in the apartment.
Do you know very much about the resident? Conners asked Lieberman, after he
had made his round and had come back to the living room again.
Not very much, Lieberman said. I showed him a few units when he first came
here, thats all.
Did he insist on this particular unit? Conners asked as he parted the Venetian
blinds. He let them stop halfway, just enough to see out the window and down to
the buildings across the parking lot.
I suppose. There were better units with a nice view of the lake, but he favored this
one. Conners looked down at the parking lot. In the early afternoon on a
weekday, the lot was nearly empty. Uriels black sedan sat alone among the neat
rows of painted parking lines. He looked across at the building that faced the
apartment he was standing in, and into the third floor unit, the one he had been in
no more than ten minutes ago with Blackstone.
The sinking feeling in his gut deepened. There was suddenly a weight to the
business card in his pocket that bore a colleagues name.
Uriel Blackstone...did you have a secret that found you?

He no longer cursed nor fought me. His limbs lay where I had splayed them open.
He flinched when I pressed into him, but that was it. He swallowed the screams
that wanted to come. I could sense this, although I couldnt see him very well in the
dark. I didnt need to. I just needed to feel him, to have that connection to him.

The bed moaned, the frame creaked with each stroke. The sound was obscene
and loud in the small space. I fucked him harder and harder, determined to have
him cry out. Beg. For him to react to me. He didnt. His face was turned to the
side, his breathing labored and his fingers clenched the sheets.
Would you be able to cum all by yourself with just me fucking you?
I pictured in my mind how his face must have reddened at the remark. Even if he
was being violated, he was still modest. He still blushed at the dirty words. It
endeared him to me even more.
Would you like for me to touch you? Or I asked him, slowing down then to
take his good hand and lower it. He resisted and pulled away before his hand
touched his crotch.
Havent you done enough to me? he hissed. His first words to me in hours. Just
finish doing whatever
He didnt finish the sentence. He turned his head away again. He had become like
a manikin, letting whatever happened take its course. A man who had been
hollowed out. There was nothing more I could take from him, although I needed so
much more from him.
I pushed myself off him. The disconnect made him wince and he looked up at me.
In the darkened room, his features were shrouded, but I imagined how he would
look.
Do you love me? I asked. It was a question I found myself asking him, again and
again. Sometimes he answered. Most of the time he didnt.
Does my answer matter? he asked. You do as you like regardless of what I
have to say.
He didnt sound angry or bitter, in spite of his words. I lay on top of him and
pressed the side of my face against his chest. I could hear the vague tempo of his
heartbeat. Briefly, I wondered if this was what it felt like to be inside a comfortable
womb, sealed from the world except for this single thread of life joined with my
parent.
We were quiet for a while. There was no notion of passing time, except that I was
in the kind of warmth that I had never known before. I wished he would wind his
arms around me or stroke my hair.
He didnt move.
What will you do in the coming days? he finally asked. His voice was soft, but it

filled the space of the cabin. Do you intend to throw away your former life and
stay like this?
Being with you is the most important thing in my life. I dont need or want anything
else. Thats a ridiculous answer, he said. Eventually, they will start to track
you....
Yes, I answered him. And there are people already looking for you. I rose
and sat up. Do you miss them? I asked him. Do you pray for those people to
find you soon, as you lay here with me? Do you wish for your other son?
He let out a sigh that I didnt know the meaning of. I began to lose my temper
again. Irrational thoughts started to deluge my mind. I left the bed and took a
shower. When I finished, I clicked on the lights in the cabin. He was still lying on
the bed as I had left him, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. Are you hungry? I
asked as I pulled fresh clothing out of my suitcase.
No.
He always said no whenever I asked. He hadnt had any kind of appetite since
hed come to the cabin. For all of his meals, I had to seat him at the small table and
only allow him to leave after he drank and ate what I gave him.
As I dressed, I studied him. It had only been a week and already there was a
discernible change in him. His skin had gone pale and hed lost his healthy luster.
Hed lost weight. He looked tired. He wasnt the man who had offered me a
genuine smile as he spoke about his family sitting in his living room only months
before. I wasnt certain what I felt. But one of the horrible sensations I felt seizing
my chest in that moment was shame and guilt. I loved him so much that I had
ruined this man. Yet, I couldnt let him go.
I would die without you, I said as I pulled on my pants, a pair of battered
denims.
He rolled his head to the side to look at me. There was the slightest amusement in
his face.
You wont die without me, he said. The world will still continue to exist without
me, without you. Just as you grew up and chose a career without me.
The next question that occurred to me I waited to ask until a period of silence
went by. Cleansing the atmosphere. I slipped on a long sleeve shirt and took a seat
at the table.
Do you hate me? I asked him. It was a frightening question. I wasnt certain how

I would react to his answer, but I wanted to know, even if it wouldnt change
anything.
No, he said after a while. I understand why youre doing this...although I hope
you comprehend the consequences of your actions.
I do. I pulled on my boots. I just choose to dismiss them.
Ah, he said.
Ill go into the town and see what I can find to fix your finger, I said, standing up
from the chair. There are signs of gangrene setting in. Ill need to speak to a
doctor about options.
He pressed his good hand over his eyes and shook a little. I thought he was upset,
crying. Instead, he was laughing.
Weve been having the most unnatural relations as father and son for days. My
thoughts were on this finger often, because it hurt so badly. All I could think about
was begging you to cut it off. Now, all I can think is how appropriate it is for you
to go into town to buy a knife and a bottle of liquor to take care of this.
I slipped on my jacket.
How appropriate that the sum of our beginning has come to this, he said,
removing his hand from his eyes and lifting up his injured hand to look at the
bandaged finger. This is my punishment.
I said nothing, only watched him. As he spoke, his voice grew softer and tears
slipped from his eyes and disappeared into his hair.
This is my punishment for failing you, for the hate that is inside you now, ruining
you and your future. If only losing this finger is enough payment to save you.
I went to him and bent down to kiss him on the forehead. Get some rest, I told
him, lowering his arm and pulling the sheet over him. Ill be back soon.
You are not going to tie me down?
No, I said. I wiped away a tear from one of his damp eyes with my thumb and
straightened. I looked down at him for a few moments longer, until his eye lids
lowered, then I left.

It was past two in the afternoon when I walked out to the snow-covered SUV.

Fathers words echoed in my head as I scrubbed the ice from the windshield, the
engine running. I didnt know how to feel or even what to feel. I understood what
he said, but I didnt know what he meant. I was still thinking about it as I drove
toward town.
I called my nurse friend in the city about Fathers condition as I sat in a small diner
that still had a few customers lingering from lunch. I ordered coffee that I didnt
drink. It sat next to a small bowl of individual creamers and a small basket of sugar
packets. I held onto it to warm one hand while the other held the phone to my ear.
As the nurse spoke in her usual cheerful, high-pitched voice, I watched out the
window as people walked by.
He has to have surgery as soon as possible to save his finger, if it can even be
saved at this point, she said. The greater danger is for the gangrene to spread...he
may lose his entire hand if left untreated. Or arm. He could die from blood
poisoning.
I see, I said. I knew the answers even before I called her. Reconfirming it only
made me feel bad because I knew I couldnt take him to a hospital. I would need
to buy something to sever his finger after my call.
Your friend sounds stubborn, not to want to see a doctor even with that severe a
condition. He must have a high pain threshold to ignore it for so long.
Yeah, I said. He does.
So when are you coming back? I miss you.
Soon, I said. My interest was lost. I didnt want to talk to her anymore. Ill
come and see you when I get back.
Promise?
Yes, I said. I hung up, after telling her I had another call waiting. It was my
partner.
Glad you picked up finally. Ive left dozens of messages on your voice mail, he
began. He spoke fast, almost in a hushed tone. Im not sure whats going on, but
your names been mentioned a lot around here in the past two-three days. They
wont tell me anything. I just wanted to tell you now in case...eh...something
happens.
Whos been mentioning my name?
People from other sections. I walked in on Conners looking into your locker with
the Captain yesterday. Theyd cut the lock. Are you okay? Why are they sniffing

around you?
Dont know, I said. Thanks for giving me a heads up.
Sure, sure. Let me know if I can help, okay?
I thanked him and hung up. I lay my phone next to the cup of coffee that had
turned lukewarm. I watched the cup an anchor to my reality as my mind
churned the scant information Id been given.
I knew what the search meant. Conners had figured out Fathers connection to
me. If they had started looking in my locker, hed probably already backtracked
the paper trail Id left behind. It wouldnt take him long to find that intradepartmental mail from the lab. The information in the mail was long gone, but my
friends name as the sender would be logged as its origin.
The waitress came by and took my neglected coffee without a word. She returned
later with a fresh cup and left to attend to a family of four that had come in.
I was more surprised by the fact that I didnt feel the panic that I should have. I
had, in some capacity, prepared for it. That small bottle of cyanide I had taken
from the evidence room a month ago when Id planned this reunion, was my
insurance.
I was uncertain if I would take my own life or Fathers. I had a gun but I wouldnt
use it. The little bottle of poison held more finality than a gun did. It was located in
a small box locked in the rental cars trunk. I had forgotten about it until then, as I
deliberated my options and watched the new customers kids being unbundled
from puffy winter coats and scarves by their parents.
I called Conners. He sounded surprised when I identified myself.
Is he still alive? was his first question.
Yes, I told him.
Not even a who are you talking about? eh? he said. So you know that I
know.
I wouldnt insult you with a blatant denial. Youre good at what you do. Youll
know everything, eventually.
Glad you are taking it well, kid, he said. Come on home. All of this was just a
terrible misunderstanding. I am sure Uriel wont press charges. After all he is
your....
Its too late, I said, cutting him off. Im only calling you to let you know that I

understand the situation.

Dont do anything stupid, he said, his voice rising. Youre a good cop,
confused by a lot of shit thats thrown you just now. Youre better than this. Come
home. Bring your father with you, and well work this out. Whatever he did to
wrong you
I dont think you understand, Detective Conners, I cut him off again. He didnt
wrong me. In fact, I love him. I love him very much. Thats why....
I trailed off. I could feel my throat tighten. I had to stop talking before I lost my
composure. I rubbed my eyes before the tears came. I could feel them sting. I
couldnt lose it in a public place. I stopped speaking until I was calmer and had my
thoughts collected again.
I know youre tracking the cell phone towers to triangulate where I could be. I
am in a town far from where my father and I have been. Im leaving now.
Gabriel! Listen to me! Youre a goddamn cop! You cant be doing this shit!
Think of your career! Think of your future! You going to throw all that away
because you found a father?!
Conners was shouting so loud over the phone that it hurt my ear. I found myself
smiling and wanting to tell him that hed make a terrible negotiator.
I have no future without my father, I said. Thank you for your concern,
Detective.
I turned off my cell phone in midst of another bout of screaming. I pocketed it and
noticed the waitress looking at me. I gave her a smile, pulled out a ten dollar bill
from my wallet and left it with my untouched cup of coffee. She said nothing as she
watched me leave. She was still staring at me through the window, even as I
climbed into my SUV and drove off.

Id retrieved the small bottle from the trunk, where it had been locked in a small
black cashbox. I left it rattling and rolling in the cup holder as I drove. My mind
contemplated different scenarios, each with a dramatic flair. I was relatively calm in
the two hour drive back to the cabin, trying to decide if I had it in me to go through
with what Id thought about.
When I finally got back and parked in the small shallow spot where Id dug out a
parking space for the SUV, the full reality struck me. There could be no more

illusions or fantasies. There would never be the kind of happiness I had envisioned
since the day Id discovered the name of my father. It was never going to be.
The sun had already gone down and I could barely see the black shape of the
cabin against the pale mounds of snow. I sat there in the dark, killed the engine and
stared at the small building in total silence. There was soothing knowledge that my
father was still alive and in there, waiting for me. But my heart was broken. It hurt
so much that the pain in my chest was overwhelming.
I love you so much...." was all I could say as I cried. The silence in the car was
now filled with sobs that I couldn't stop. Soon, I couldn't even form words, there
were only howls of anguish the sounds even startling for me to hear. The pain in
my chest only grew. I sat there and cried, letting the terrible pain devour me.

CHAPTER 7

He was still in bed when I finally came in, lying where Id left him. He was awake
and only looked up to acknowledge me as I stepped through the door.
Something happen? he asked, as I removed my coat and left it draped over the
back of the chair. You look
I took off my boots and went to him, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He
touched my face with his good hand.
You look as bad as I feel, he said. And cold.
Can I get in bed with you? I asked him.
You never asked before, he said.
Can I?
He gave a slight nod and I crept into bed with him. I could feel him shiver as his
body absorbed the cold from mine, but he didnt complain. I curled up against him,
the blanket drawn over us. For a long time, we didnt speak. It might have been an
hour that passed, before I told him what I had learned earlier in the day.
I told him about the conversation Id had with the nurse and about my partners
call, then Conners. I also told him about the cyanide that Id had with me for a
while the vial that was in my coat pocket, slung over the chair a few feet away.
After I finished, there was no change in him. He was calm, unaffected by everything
I had said.
So you planned for this ending even before you brought me here.
No, I said. It was an out, not an end.
And now, it is an end?
Are you afraid?
I think I stopped being afraid two days ago, he said. It makes it easier to accept
this as it is.
And that is?
He put a hand on my head and stroked my hair. There was a sad smile on his
face. Phillip had me for 22 years of his life, he said. Now, I suppose the rest of

my life is yours.
I finally got to my feet and he watched me pour orange juice from a bottle into a
tall glass. His demeanor didnt change, even as I added the cyanide. Specks
disappeared, blending into the drink. Wayward tears flowed down as I prepared it.
This will give us a little bit of time, I said, walking to him with the glass and
holding it out to him. The dosage is low. However, it will be painful.
He looked at the drink. Still expressionless, he reached out for it, and it was only
after he was holding it in his hands that I could tell he was shaking. The juice in the
glass rippled.
Will this finally make you whole? he asked.
I wiped at my wet cheeks with the heel of my hand. No, I told him.
He looked down at the juice. So you will settle for me not to be able to love
anyone else.
If they find us...well never be together again, I told him. I wont be able to
endure the fact that youve been taken away from me....
There was a period of silence, the kind of stillness that is tangible, the kind that
was the culmination of what we were, what I had become.
I do love you, Gabriel, he said softly and drank. He tipped the glass back,
swallowing the juice in one long drink. I was sobbing, my body shaking by the time
he set the glass down on the floor.
Why does it have to be like this? I asked between sobs.
He let out a sigh, his sad smile remaining. Will you do one thing for me? he
asked. I looked up at him. I had to blink to clear my vision.
Will you get my ring?
For a while, I couldnt speak. I didnt know how to feel. But eventually, I nodded.
I went out to the SUV and went through the toolbox in the trunk. I pulled a wrench
and a file from it. Father remained sitting on the bed as I had left him, even as I
worked noisily under the sink to disconnect the pipe.
It took awhile to loosen the pipe and remove the curved section, where I knew the
ring would be. And it was there, rattling at the bottom when I disconnected it. A
tip, and it tumbled out. The silver band still shone as it sat in the palm of my hand. I
curled my fingers over it, trying to calm the storm that was gathering inside me. I
held in my hand the sum of my fathers past, the past that I didnt want him to have.

Even at the end of everything...even as he told me for the first time he loved me, he
wanted his past.
I scrubbed at my damp face with a hand towel and took in several deep breaths,
clearing my mind. I went back to him, his ring clenched tightly in my hand.
Father was lying down with his eyes closed. His face was ashen and I could hear
his breaths short and shallow. He opened his eyes when I sat down on the edge
of the bed. His eyes were red rimmed and watery.
Are you in pain? I asked him and ran a hand along his face. It was cold.
Pain is trivial now, he said and looked as if he wanted to smile, but nothing but
pain showed on his porcelain-like face.
I bent down and gave him a kiss on his lips.
I want to go with you, I said. I am a coward...I would lose my only memories of
you if I died....
I started to cry again. He watched me quietly. I pressed the ring I had fetched
from the pipe into his hand. He closed it in his fist and held it.
You are still so young, he said. You shouldnt think of dying, no matter what.
He took my left hand, then slipped the ring on my ring finger. It fit comfortably.

I want you to be a good person...understand? Your father has just bought your
soul with this ring, he said. His voice was faltering, straining as he struggled to
speak. I forgive you...I hope someday you will find a way to forgive me.
I had so much to say then, but nothing came. I sat there, holding his hand and
listened to him gasping for breath. His heart was failing. I could feel the trembles
that racked his body as his heart worked harder and harder to keep him alive.
Then he finally slipped into unconsciousness. It is the worst memory I have...the
moment when his hand no longer held mine and dropped. He hadnt died yet, but
he was about to. His pulse was weak and he was barely drawing breath.
I lay in bed with him, gathered him to me, and gradually felt life and warmth leave
him. At some point, I knew he had died. I still held to him...although he was no
longer with me, I no longer felt alone.

Over the years, I had seen deaths in different phases. Some had been fresh with
their blood still warm when I arrived. Some had been dead for some time, their
bodies eaten away by insects that had swarmed over what was left of them. I
hadnt considered death itself to be attractive, nor should it be, but there is a
beauty in it. And I saw it in Fathers body, frozen in rigor. He looked peaceful,
asleep.
I watched him for hours, sitting at the small table while I traced the smooth shape
of the ring he had given me with an index finger over and over again, as if I
could find some kind of answers to the questions that came. New questions. I had
traded one pain for another and I couldnt decide if the new pain that gripped my
chest hurt more than before, or if there had been any meaning in finding a man that
didnt want me, but had been forced to love me at the end of his life.
It was night again by the time his body had become pliant enough to be moved. I
dressed him in a pair of slacks and a shirt I had packed for him, and slipped him
back into his black wool coat. I didnt pack anything there was no point. I
pulled my coat on and put Father in the passenger seat of the SUV. His head rolled
toward one side of his shoulder, his slumped figure barely held up by the seat belt.
It was snowing when we pulled away from the cabin. The flurry came down
strong, thick, white against the beams of the headlights. I drove slow and on
instinct, until the SUV finally climbed onto the paved highway. We drove for miles
on the desolate road, passing by perhaps three or four semis in the opposite lane as

they made their way toward the city.

It was after perhaps an hour of driving, maybe longer, when I reached for his
hand, his left hand with the damaged ring finger. It was cold. I held it as I started to
tell him about the scant memories of my childhood that I could pull from my mind,
the moments that I wished he were there, although back then, I didnt know to
wish for him.
It was an older boy next door that taught me how to ride a bike, I told him. I
think hed always pitied me, although he was only five years older. He came to my
ball games and sat in the bleachers with the parents. Ted Caufield.
I squeezed his hand.
He got a girl pregnant in high school and dropped out to join the Army so he
could support them. He wrote to me from wherever he was. Then one day, the
letters no longer came.
I felt a tear trickle down my cheek, but I didnt want to let go of Fathers hand to
wipe it away. Months passed and then a year. His family lived next door all that
time and didnt tell me. He wasnt my family, I said. Teddys dead, his mother
finally told me one day, after Id asked her again what happened to Ted. She
looked angry, like I had reminded her of something terrible that she had taken a
long time to forget and now she was remembering all over again. A year and a half
after Ted died in some stupid shit bar fight that got him shot dead...that was the
beginning of the mourning for me. A year and a half after he was dead and buried
was when I first cried for him.
My hand left the steering wheel for a moment so I could dry my cheek with the cuff
of my jacket. Looking back, he was probably my first father figure. I didnt love
him the way I loved you, but being with him made me feel wanted. Even if it was
just a fantasy from a kid that really didnt know what it was like to be wanted.
I lifted his hand up and kissed it. I was quiet for a while.
I think you wouldve been proud of me, watching me pitch. I made it into the
minors, you know, I told him.
And as I spoke, one trace memory followed another. I was crying but somehow,
those memories were happy now. I told the recollections in detail to my father.
Memories of something that werent important then. Trivial things that had no
meaning when I was a child. But I was happy again, so many years later, because
in my mind I lived through them again with Father smiling next to me, telling me
how good I was as he tousled my hair.

I am very proud of you! I heard him say in my mind.

All those times when I looked over my shoulder, he had been there with me. I
remembered it all now. He had been there with me, all those times.

I barely remember how I drove back to the city. I was numb. I didnt know I had
come back until I was suddenly aware that I was driving to my apartment, and I
stopped at the Estate gate. I stared numbly at the closed gate until I realized where
I was.
It was early morning and dawn had just broken over the apartment complex full of
residents readying for their early commute, busy scrubbing the frost that had iced
over their car windows. I went back into my apartment, moving on memory alone.
My mind was blank and I was half blind from hours of driving and fatigue. It was
almost a programmed routine that Id go to my bedroom window and look into
Fathers apartment. It still looked the same. The couches in the living room were
arranged in the same way. It was the same as it always was, whenever I looked
into that panoramic window with its curtains drawn back to the sides.
I stood there staring, even as the sun came up. I could see his Lexus in the lot
below, left where he had parked it only a week ago. I had started to turn away
when I saw a figure move through his darkened living room. I leaned in and forced
my tired eyes to open wider and watch. Moments later, the same figure moved
from the kitchen through the living room and back to the bedroom again.
I was already half-crazed, running down the stairs toward Fathers building.
Although I knew Father had died and I had buried him only hours earlier my
hands still hurt from the bruises the shovel and pick made as I dug into the frozen
earth. I didnt care. Perhaps, I told myself, there was a small chance that the past
week had been a lie. A terrible nightmare. Father hadnt died....
I pounded on the door. I hadnt had the presence of mind to bring the key. When
I got impatient, I kicked the door. The woman that lived across the hall opened her
door slightly and peeked through. With her hair still in rollers and rest of her clad in
a yellow bathrobe, she asked me if I knew what time it was and slammed her door
without my answer.
Then the door opened. The man that stood before me looked angry and annoyed.
The man that looked like Father, but it wasnt him.
What the hell is your problem? he asked me.

I pushed past him and rushed into the apartment. Hey!

I ignored him, going into the bedroom and seeing the made bed but I didnt see
Father. I went into the bathroom. I went into the spare room and saw the unmade
bed there slept in, rumpled. I was crushed in that moment with the reality of it all
coming down on me. The strength left my legs then and I sank down to my knees.
Youre the one who took him, the man Fathers other son stood in front
of me. He had a cellphone in one hand.
Yes, I told him.
Why?!
I looked down at my hand and looked at the silver band.
I just wanted to be my fathers son.

FATHER FIGURE: POST SCRIPT

10 Days Later

Youre the doctor who wont let him go to trial, Phillip said, as soon as Katsuya
Asano offered his name and an extended hand. There was a hesitation before
Phillip took it, shaking it quickly as a token greeting.
Yes, I was one of the doctors who performed the 730 exam.
Katsuya gestured to a seat, a chair that had already been pulled out from a small
desk with a lamp that was bolted down in one corner. The desk faced a panel of
windows that looked into a room where Gabriel was confined. He was asleep,
tucked under a white sheet, his wrists wrapped in padded cuffs and tethered to the
metal railings on the sides of the gurney-like bed. It was a suicide-watch room.
Phillip walked toward the window instead and took a closer look at Gabriel. He
studied the face that had a purpled bruise on one cheek and the lower lip that had
been split. He was pale, almost ashen to the point that there was a bluish tint to his
skin. He had an IV drip with its needle inserted and taped at the crook of his left
arm, the same arm that was strapped down at the bicep and forearm.
We saw the beginnings of the bouts of violence a week ago, Katsuya said,
walking up to stand beside Phillip. When your fathers ring was wrenched off his
finger.
That wasnt his to have, Phillip said, staring pointedly at the man still studying
the unkempt remains of the person that looked nothing like the picture of the
uniformed cop that had circulated on television. The poise was gone. There was
only a carcass left, strapped to a bed.
I understand, Katsuya said. But this has become more than ownership of a
ring.
Phillip turned away and walked to the chair Katsuya had indicated earlier. He sat
down Gabriel still visible to him peripherally.
I just want my dad found. I want this man in prison. I want the media and
newspapers to leave me alone.

Patricides make sensational news, Katsuya said, taking a seat on the other side
of the table, facing Phillip. A policeman who commits patricide makes headline
news. Those bastards are making up terrible stories about Dad....
Katsuya only nodded.
Phillip put his hands on the table, his fingers knitted together.
He was a good man who led a good life, Phillip said. Dad didnt deserve to be
murdered by a mistake he made.
Gabriel wasnt a mistake, Katsuya said. From the evidence thats been
uncovered, especially the birth certificate and paternity papers found in the cabin,
Uriel learned about Gabriel then.
It doesnt change a thing.
It changes everything, Katsuya said, looking over his shoulder to view Gabriel.
What happened to your father was the result of a desperate man who believed
hed lost everything, trying to keep one thread of his found past from slipping
away. The papers proved a biological connection between him and your father
its an undeniable fact, even if Uriel rejected him. Gabriel threw away everything
that he was in his twenty-three years...twenty-four years of life; his birthday was
four days ago.
So he murdered Dad for this?
I dont think Uriel rejected him. If he had, he wouldve been killed the first night,
when the papers were likely to have been revealed to him, Katsuya said. Gabriel
still loved your father. Uriel was killed so he would always remain his father in his
mind.
There was a pause. When Phillip said nothing, Katsuya continued, Your brother is
ill.
Hes not my brother, Phillip said quickly, a flare of anger coloring his face.
You may disown him, but hes still connected to you biologically as your father
was. And hes the only one who can bring Uriels body home.
Phillips fists clenched so tightly that his arms trembled. Katsuya rested a hand
over Phillips fist, calming him.
Why?! Phillip shouted. Tears came, it was the first time he had cried in many
days. Even when hed learned that his father was likely dead, he had kept his
composure. Now, he was becoming unraveled. Katsuya spoke softly, a stark

contrast to Phillips eruption.

He needs the ring, Katsuya said. If you hope to have more than just that ring as
your last memento of your father, you have to give it to him. I cant begin to open a
dialog with him until he can be calmed by the ring.
He took MY father from me! And now you want me to give you the only thing I
have of him and give it to the same bastard who murdered him?! Phillip stood
abruptly, knocking back the chair he was sitting in. He pulled the silver ring from
his pocket and slapped it down hard on the table top. I lost my mother three years
ago and now my father! Why do you care about this man?!
Phillip, Katsuya said, his voice dropping into a whisper, Gabriel is sick. He
doesnt have the same kind of comprehension you or I have of what happened.
But he is the only one that knows where Uriel is.
Phillip wiped at his damp eyes with a sleeve and took a deep breath. He cursed.
This ring has different meanings for you and for him, Katsuya said. You had
twenty-two wonderful years with a father who loved you unconditionally. This ring,
to Gabriel, represents those few days he had with Uriel were years with a
father he could only hope loved him.
I dont care!
You do care, Katsuya said. Gabriel will die in a matter of weeks, perhaps
sooner if his condition persists. He hasnt eaten or drunk anything since the ring
was taken from him. He became increasingly violent, so that he had to be sedated
and force fed intravenously. He could live longer than expected on this treatment
because hes young and in good health, but his condition is rapidly deteriorating.
His heart is as broken as yours.
Phillip broke down sobbing then, burying his face in his hands. Katsuya scooted
his seat back and stood. He circled around the table and pulled Phillip into his
arms.
Oh God, I miss Dad so much....
The grimace on Katsuyas face tightened. He allowed Phillip to remain in his
embrace until the young man finally pushed himself away and stepped back.

Phillip dried his damp cheeks with the heels of his hands. He apologized to
Katsuya, picked up the fallen chair and sat back down in it.
Will this ring...fix him? Phillip asked, his voice small and shaking.
I dont think Gabriel can be fixed, in the traditional sense. People who are
damaged to this extent can usually only learn to cope, Katsuya said, returning to
his own seat. He probably cant exist outside an institution like this. All we can
hope for is to restore the last connection he had with Uriel and dispel some of his
fears, particularly his belief that if he tells someone where Uriel is, Uriel will no
longer be his father. He would be your father and other peoples friend and your
grandparents son, but no longer his alone. Even through his insanity, he
understands his few days with Uriel didnt compare to years or a lifetime everyone
else had with Uriel.
Strangled silence followed. Phillip rubbed more tears from his eyes again and
stared at the ceiling. Katsuya waited patiently.

I cant promise you he will give up Uriel, Katsuya continued. But if you have
decided this ring is your own last connection to your father, then I can be certain
that this is where it will end.
Take the ring, Phillip said, looking back down at Katsuya, his voice calmer. He
needs it more than I do. He stroked the ring once more before sliding it toward
the doctor. Will you make him understand that both of us lost a father? We both
share the same pain. Please tell him I miss our father very much.
I will, Katsuya nodded. Youre doing the right thing. Your father would have
been proud of your strength now.
I could turn out to be a piece of shit and hed still be proud of me, Phillip said,
the slightest smile appearing on his mouth. I think...he would have forgiven him.
I think so, too.
Silence fell again, until the sound of a chair scraping against the tiled floor echoed
in the little room. Phillip pulled a few tissues from a box beside the lamp and dried
his face and eyes with them. A Marine cant be seen crying like this, he said.
Katsuya stood up and smiled. Im sure even a Marine would be allowed a few
moments of human weakness.

Phillip returned Katsuyas smile and nodded. He wadded the tissues into a ball
and shoved them into his coat pocket. Ill wait for Father for as long as it
takes...even if its for the rest of my life, Phillip said, taking Katsuyas extended
hand. Please take care of Gabriel.
Will you come and see him one day?
Phillip looked through the window again and then looked at the floor. There are
some traits I didnt get from Dad, he said, squeezing Katsuyas hand once more
before letting go. Someday...if that day ever comes, when I can forgive him, I will
come and see him.
That certainly is your prerogative, but as long as you cling to that anger, you cant
heal.
Phillip smiled warmly. Maybe, he said and let out a sigh. I am so numb inside
that I want to feel something, even if its pain or anger. Thank you, Dr. Asano.
Another glance through the window, a nod at Katsuya, and he strode from the
room without looking back.

Katsuya sat in a chair that was placed by the bed. He had been quietly re-reading
the thick stack of papers bundled into a flimsy manila folder the police department
had forwarded to him. There were some photos taken of the cabin, color
snapshots made by the initial investigators who had worked through the
cypherlock. The hope had always been of finding Uriel there, alive or dead. But as
Katsuya had predicted, he was not there.
Katsuya had been at the cabin a day after the initial entry, guided by a homicide
investigator who annoyed him with questions about Japan.
You guys certainly made a mess of this place, Katsuya remarked as he stepped
over the circles and xs made with white chalk. There were rubber gloves the
forensic team had used that were left behind. Black fingerprint powder was left on
the door frames and even on the door of the refrigerator.
Katsuya decided not to ask why prints had to be taken when it was a known fact
that only two men accessed the cabin, but the police like to collect anything and
everything.
Probably had another case to rush to, Bellany said, his Bronx accent evident. He
scratched at the five oclock shadow growing on his chin, although it was only past

noon. The guys usually aint that bad.

Katsuya agreed with him, only to avoid a pointless discussion. He stepped
gingerly, careful not to disturb the chalk markings on the floor although Bellany told
him the forensics team was done processing the scene. After their visit, the cabin
would be sealed and seized as evidence.
I didnt know the kid, Bellany said, picking up a length of chain from the small
table and letting it drop with a jingle. Heard hes popular with the women. Theres
always chicks from different departments waiting to jump him, yknow? Didnt
think hed be into this kinda BDSM thing with a guy, yknow. Not that I really
have a thing against guys who does that stuff....
You shouldnt assume a lot of things, nor circulate rumors, Detective Bellany,
Katsuya said, inspecting the small bathroom. Were not investigating a sex crime.
Katsuya didnt have to turn to know Bellanys face had flushed, embarrassed at his
unreserved remarks.
Ill be outside, Bellany finally said, clearing his throat.
Katsuya didnt acknowledge him. His attention was still focused on taking in each
detail of the cabin the disassembled pipes that were left under the sink; a few
articles of clothing left in one corner of the room; an opened first-aid kit that
displayed its nearly emptied contents on top of the refrigerator; a frying pan with a
shallow spot of cooking oil sat on the single-coil electric burner. It was as if there
had been a hasty decision to leave.
Katsuya walked over to the bed with its rumpled, blood spotted sheets that had
been stripped from the mattress and left in a pile. There were darkened blood
stains on the mattress, just barely enough to indicate a struggle but not severe
trauma. Katsuya touched the small length of chain attached to an eye bolt in the
wall, just over the headboard. The physical reality of the restraint was shocking.
Why did it come to this? Katsuya whispered. He sat on the edge of the bed and
from there, slowly examined the room from one side to the other. Darkness must
have consumed this small space. Now, with the wide-opened door letting in
daylight made even brighter by the reflection off the snow, the cabin didnt feel as
frightening and isolated as it must have then.
Just let me know when you are ready to go, Bellany said, leaning in suddenly.
He held his lit cigarette behind his back but the smoke still wafted in.
Detective, can you close the door?
Pardon?

Close the door and let me be alone here for a little bit, Katsuya said, giving him
a smile that he knew would disarm the detective. I would like to see what those
men saw.
The detective scratched at his chin again and nodded.
The door closed slowly, draining the light from the cabin until all Katsuya could
see were outlines of the furniture, made by the light that came from the bathroom
windows.
Gradually, as Katsuya sat contemplating the madness that must have consumed
Gabriel, he saw the kind of insanity that had taken a lifetime to build and then
exploded in days, triggered by the love for a man that had been missing all his life.
Katsuya wondered briefly if that trigger would ever have been pulled if Gabriel had
never learned the identity of his father. In that moment, he could understand the
pain, anger, love and hate that had consumed both men in the span of a few days in
that small vacuum, where no one existed but them.

Katsuya stared at the photographs. They showed items that were no longer there
when hed gone to the cabin. There were suitcases that had held their clothing at
one side of the room, a drinking glass that had rolled under the bed, a scattering of
papers some of which had been copied and stuck into the folder he was
reading.
Motion from the bed, slow and gradual, made Katsuya look up. He closed the
folder and laid it under his chair. He watched intently as Gabriels eyes opened
half-way, still drugged and hazy, even though he was alert to Katsuyas presence
and he looked over at him.
How do you feel?
Gabriel didnt answer, instead he looked at the IV that was attached to him, the
clear bag half-full of fluid.
I promise Ill take this off and your catheter out if you will eat and drink on your
own. Gabriel looked at him, as if Katsuya were saying something he couldnt
understand.
And I swear youll keep your ring if you will do as I ask, Katsuya said, pulling
out the silver band from his pocket and holding it up for Gabriel to see.
Life leapt back into Gabriels eyes again and they widened. Tears formed and
flowed, as soon as Katsuya slid the ring onto Gabriels finger.
Youll let the nurses take care of you and you will eat and drink what they bring
and I promise, no one will take that ring from you. And no one will tie you down
again, as long as you do not act out against them.
Gabriel nodded. He whimpered, a sound that took the place of the words that he
couldnt say. Katsuya gave him a smile and pressed the call-button recessed into
the wall.
I will come back this afternoon to see you, Katsuya said, bending down to
collect his folder. We will talk.

It had been only four hours since Katsuya had left him and come back. Gabriel
had been moved to a different room, but was still in the same section of the ward.
The new room was less intrusive. It was without an attached observation room
with a one-way mirror and the bed didnt come with straps and cuffs. There was a
CCTV mounted in the upper corner of the ceiling, but Katsuya knew it didnt pick

up sound.
Those four hours had made a difference. Gabriel had bathed, was groomed and
some color had come back into his face. His bruises and cut lip resulting from
one of many scuffles hed had with the hospital workers during one of his violent
rages were even more shocking to see on Gabriels cleaned-up face.
Thank you, Gabriel said, his voice dry, a whisper. Although there was half a cup
of water on the stand next to the bed, he didnt take it. I know you had to talk
him into giving it to me.
He is also your brother, Katsuya said, as much as Uriel was your father.
Gabriel looked down at his hand, at the ring.
Are you going to ask me to give up Father for him?
No, Katsuya said, pulling his chair up closer to the bed. He crossed one leg
over the other. You will tell me when you are ready to. Id like to hear how you
met your father.

Gabriel chewed on his lip, his teeth grazing precariously aver the cut. For a while,
the only sounds that could be heard were footsteps that padded by their door or an
occasional announcement paging someone aver the PA in the hallway. Katsuya
was patient.
Gabriel finally looked up.
"It started with a letter..." he began.

Father Figure
by
Guilt|Pleasure
Written By: Kichiku Neko
Art By: Toga Q
Editor: Mycean

ISBN-13: 978-1-62548-011-8
Guilt|Pleasure 2011
www.guiltpleasure.com