Page 5 of Heimlock

“They’ll be mailing them out soon.”

He nods once, already losing interest. His long, maroon fingers work at a green tie. “No more school, huh?”

“No.”

His eyes meet mine in the reflection. “Do you plan on taking up space around here, or will you be getting a job?”

It’s a bad idea, but I ask anyway. “Am I allowed to have a job?”

Father sneers. “You’re almost an adult now, Trinte. You’re expected to work.”

My tail spasms with coiling anxiety. “Can I move out?”

Pursing his lips, he loops the silk fabric, tightening the tie around his thick neck. “Of course not. You belong here with me.”

“If I’m almost an adult, why can’t I leave?”

Father turns around slowly. My gaze locks onto his movements, analyzing every twitch. Anticipating what the future holds. “No. You can’t leave. And why’s that?”

“Because I killed my mother,” I respond, monotone.

“Because you killed your mother,” he affirms. He steps forward; my heart thunders. Another step; my muscles tighten, staving off the shakes. “You took her life, so you’ll spend the rest of yours atoning.”

His eyes flick to the floor. A silent directive. My fists clench. He notices; a venomous smile spreads across his broad face. “Is today one of those days you’re going to try to fight back?”

Grinding my teeth, I shake my head. Dizzy from the speed of my breath, I command a knee to bend. Then the other.

Why am I doing this? Why can’t I stop this? Why don’t I leave?

Father’s belt jingles softly as he unbuckles it. The sound makes me flinch. Why am I on my knees again?

Is this truly what my future holds?

Father undoes the buttons on his pants. Thoughts race through my mind, faster than I can grab them. Two words repeat; a familiar mantra too often ignored.

Get up.

Get up.

Get up.

Father slides his pants down, already drunk on the power he holds. The forced submission of his youngest son. The son who's never strong enough to just get the fuck up.

Get up.

Get up.

Get up.

“Well?” Father raises an eyebrow, looking down at where he strokes. “Are you going to do your daily atonement or not?”

My body sways, struggling to balance on my bruised knees. Instinct rages, demanding that I both fight and flee. The decision is too hard, so I freeze. Staring into the future.

Get up.

Get up.

Get up.