Hurriedly I glanced up and down the street, crouching near the door close to one of the bushes that butted up against the porch. I’d be in so much trouble if someone called the police. A couple of minutes later Daddy threw some clothes outside.
“You want to back talk and be rotten? You can sleep out here and fucking think about your attitude. I’m this close.” He held up his thumb and forefinger so they almost touched. “I’m fucking tired of trying to train a boy who is too fucking stupid to improve in even the simplest ways.” He slammed the door. I dressed as quickly as I could, already wet and cold. Since it was raining anyway, I let my tears fall.
All I ever wanted to do was make Daddy happy with me. I wasn’t sure when my life goal narrowed down to only include winning Daddy’s love, but my heart and stomach ached at being on the other side of the door, far away from him, unable to help him when he needed me. I wasn’t sure what to do. I huddled near the hydrangea bush that grew next to the porch and sat down on the cement, staring at my naked feet. What could I have done differently? Why was I always messing up?
My body ached. I was hungry and having trouble thinking. Daddymusthave told me to bring him his phone and I was confused somehow, but I was stillalmostsure I’d heard him say to get him the remote. Or was I really as stupid as he accused me of being? I rocked while I sat there, hiding against the bush—I hoped—so that none of the neighbors would notice me. That had happened once, and Daddy had not been pleased. I wasn’t to be seen or heard unless he had something for me to do. I closed my eyes. Once upon a time, when this had started, I’d wanted more from Daddy. He’d taught me the truth: I didn’t deserve anything, nothing at all. There was nodeserve, I was a boy who was only here for his Daddy. Thunder rumbled in the distance and I cowered.
New terror began to gnaw at me. What would Daddy do as punishment for this? I was already down to one meal a day, my back already hurt. I covered my eyes and shivered. More than anything, I wanted to beg Daddy for forgiveness, but he rarely granted it. I wanted him to hold me, but hugs were for good boys who could follow orders, not rotten ones who couldn’t get anything right.
Longing sank its fangs into me and I fought it off. If I got too hungry for affection I would screw up and not pay attention to Daddy’s orders, and I’d be even further away from getting what I wanted. I took long breaths and stared at the grass on the small lawn between the porch and the sidewalk.
Daddy hadn’t told me to go anywhere or do anything, so I waited. It got darker out and all the streetlights came on, gleaming on the wet foliage. Daddy’s neighbor across the way had a large picture window. The man who lived there turned the light on in his living room and it glowed like a slice of heaven. He sat down with a bowl on his lap and turned on the TV. A woman came in and sat beside him, and they talked and laughed. I couldn’t remember anymore what a conversation felt like. It had been months since I sat beside Daddy and not at his feet. I tried not to watch the couple, but I was starving for something to lose myself in, and imagining their warm, dry house and friendly back-and-forth made my heart crumple.
Time passed and they kissed. The woman rose and the man followed her, still smiling. The light went off. They were probably going to bed together. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead on my knees. If I had to stay out here all night, I’d survive, even with the rain. I had in the past. It was nothing new.
It won’t kill me, and if it makes Daddy happy, I’ll do it.
I had no idea what time it was when the front door opened, but my body was stiff as I scrambled to my knees and crawled over to Daddy, not daring to look at his face. I stared at his pajama pants and slippers and bowed my head.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. Please, Daddy. How can I make it up to you?”
A long time drifted by, and I jolted when he bent and grabbed my hair, twisting my head so I was staring up into his grim expression. “You sleep in the kitchen tonight. No more mistakes or you’re gone. I’m bored with this.” His cold tone scared me so bad my hands shook when I laid them on my knees. “In the morning, everything will be perfect or else. You will come to my bed to wake me up.”
Some of my fear ebbed away. If he wanted me to wake him up with a blowjob, he must not be too angry. “Yes, Daddy. Anything you say, Daddy.” I tried to nod, but he held on to my hair and it hurt.
Daddy finally let go and went back in the house with the door wide open, so I followed him in. He didn’t look at me as he went up the stairs, and I turned and locked the door. I bit my lip but didn’t even make a disappointed sound when I went toward the kitchen instead of following him. In Daddy’s room I had a blanket and pillow, down here I had nothing, and I didn’t dare take the cushions or pillows from the couch. I’d learned that the hard way. I picked at my soaked clothes, but Daddy hadn’t said I could change out of them, so I’d better not. Maybe they were my punishment. I left them on.
As I went to the kitchen and curled up on the floor between the island and the stove, I mentally ran through everything Daddy needed in the morning—blowjob, lay out the towels, turn on the water so it would be warm when Daddy took a shower, lay out his suit afterward. Make his breakfast and pack his lunch. Put away his laptop and have it sitting beside the door. I was missing something and let out a long breath when I realized after a few tense minutes that tomorrow was one of his workout days, and he’d want his gym bag beside the door, too. I ran my fingers around one of the black tiles on the floor.
If I only wrote neater this would all be easier. Daddy said I couldn’t make lists because my handwriting was awful, and he didn’t want to see the mess. I thought longingly of my blanket and shivered, but I knew better. If I tried to sneak up to get it, the world would end.
Blankets and pillows and food and hugs were all for good boys.
Not me.
Bitterness burned in my throat as I closed my eyes and tried to think of things I could do tomorrow to make Daddy happy, maybe something I could do around here while he was at work. I didn’t come up with anything new, but at least I could make sure the house was spotless. Gasping, I sat up in a panic and winced at the pain the fast movement caused. I went to the living room.
“Alexa, set an alarm for 4:45 in the morning.”
She went through the mechanical reassurances that the alarm was set, and I had a moment of pure fondness. Alexa wasn’t real, but honestly, she was the only person I talked to most of the time. It was crazy, but I liked her. Smiling to myself, I said, “Alexa, thank you.”
“You bet.”
Grinning, I shot a guilty look at the staircase and went back to my spot in the kitchen.
* * *
“What thefuck?”The roar startled me out of a dead sleep. I sat up, heart pounding, and scrabbled at the damp shirt across my chest, which felt like it was cutting off my air. Feet pounded on the stairs, coming toward the living room. Quickly I glanced at the window. The sky was gray outside, so it was morning, but it was also raining, and lightning blazed as thunder rumbled and shook the house. Moaning, I shrank against the side of the kitchen island. Every bone and muscle I had ached from sleeping on the hard floor, and I struggled to figure out what was going so wrong already today that cursing had woken me up.
As more thunder had me flinching again, I stared outside. Pure terror flashed through me. “The alarm didn’t go off,” I whispered in horror. “Oh, no. No. No.No.” The sky was too bright. I glanced at the stove, but the neon-green digital clock that normally glowed there was off. The fridge didn’t hum the way it should. The house was too quiet, except for the booming footfalls headed in my direction. Sobbing and panicking, I got up and raced toward the kitchen doorway, only to run smack into Daddy. I recoiled at the fury on his face as he grabbed me by the arms and shook me.
“You didn’t wake me up? Are you trying to get me fired, you ungrateful—” He grabbed me by my hair, and I frantically shook my head as best I could.
“Sorry, Daddy. The power went out. It wasn’t my fault.” I tried to hug him, but he shoved me away with the hand that wasn’t keeping me still.
He shook my head around. “I warned you. I told you weeks ago I was getting sick of you. Tired of looking at you.” Fear, rabid and relentless, clawed through me as he tightened his fingers in my hair beyond the point where it would only hurt and might start ripping out chunks. “I said no more mistakes.” He turned and stalked toward the front door, and I struggled, but it hurt too much, so I stumbled along, attempting to keep up with him. “Was this you getting back at me?”
I tried to shake my head again but couldn’t. Tears streamed down my face, and Daddy’s nose wrinkled. He hated crying; he hated everything I did. “It was an accident. It wasn’t my fault.” I began to hyperventilate. I wanted to be upstairs on my knees waiting for him to decide he needed something. I wanted to hide under my blanket from the thunder. I wanted my pillow. “Please, I’m sorry.” I couldn’t stop the words, and I rambled apologies while he snarled.
