Despised And Devoured By My Step Father

CLICK-CLACK OF A GUN

Danny's POV

The silence in my dorm room was a physical weight on us, cold and suffocating. Leo sat on the edge of my bed, his spine a rigid line of betrayal, his back turned to me. The air still smelled of our sweat and the heat of a moment that had been ruined.

"Leo, please," I whispered, clutching the sheets to my chest. "It was just a...it's just a character from my drawings. You are overthinking these things, you know...."

"Don't," Leo snapped. He didn't yell. His voice was flat, dead which was somehow worse. He finally turned, his eyes bloodshot red. "I am not a child, Danny. You didn't just say the name. You were waiting for whoever it was to come and break you. You don't love me, your heart belongs somewhere else."

"It's not that....you think I would really do that to you?"

"You haven't been yourself since biology lessons started," Leo said, standing up and grabbing his duffel bag. He shoved a few shirts in with jerky, violent movements. "I don't know who Chad is. But I have no reason to be here, just go f**k yourself, man."

He didn't wait for me to explain. He didn't even look back as he walked out, the door clicking shut with a finality that made my lungs seize. I was alone. Truly alone.

The next morning the campus felt like a minefield. Every black car that hummed past me made my skin prickle. Every man in a tailored suit made my heart skip a beat. I felt like a walking sin. I had betrayed the only good thing in my life. Someone who accepted me for who I was.

I saw him in the hallway near the faculty wing, surrounded by a group of laughing professors. Chadwick looked radiant, the picture of academic excellence in a sharp navy blazer. When our eyes met, he didn't flinch.

"Ah, Danny," he said, his voice smooth as silk, stopping the group. "I hope you are prepared for our session this afternoon. We have quite a lot of ground to cover if you want to pull that grade up." That's right, Chadwick was back to his withdraw and push method. He had dismissed me yesterday in a cruel manner, now he wanted me back. Honestly this man should pick a struggle, I thought.

The hypocrisy was a knife in my gut. I looked at the man my mother loved, the man who had been on his knees for me yesterday, and I wanted to scream the truth until the walls cracked. I just nodded like a good little boy and kept walking, my knuckles white against my bag straps.

I couldn't wait until the scheduled time. I needed the truth. I needed to hurt him as much as he had hurt me. Something that would make him break.

Immediately after class, I reached his office an hour early. The hallway was deserted, the only sound was the distant hum of an air conditioner. I pushed at his door, expecting it to be locked, but it gave way with a soft creak.

He wasn't there.

His leather briefcase sat open on the mahogany desk, a mess of papers spilling out. My pulse quickened. The sketchbook. Maybe I could rummage around his things and find my book, I thought to myself. I began, my movement frantic. I wasn't even thinking about the consequences anymore. I pulled at the bottom drawer, but it stuck. I felt around the underside of the desk, my fingers catching on a small, hidden latch.

With a soft click, a shallow drawer I hadn't noticed before slid open.

I froze.

It wasn't my drawings. Nestled on a bed of dark velvet was a sleek, matte black handgun. It looked heavy, lethal and entirely too real. Beside it lay a stack of offshore bank statements with figures that made my head swim, and a burner phone that flickered with a missed message.

A teacher shouldn't have this. Why would a professor need a silencer?

The heavy oak door behind me clicked shut.

"Danny, I see you have found your daddy's little secret?"

I spun around, my heart slamming against my ribs so hard it hurt. Chadwick was leaning against the door, his arms crossed. He didn't look panicked that I had found something dirty about him. He looked bored.

"What is this?" I breathed, my voice trembling as I pointed at the steel in the drawer. "Why do you have a gun? And how rich are you really? The Bentley...the diamonds you buy my mum...if you are so wealthy why are you staying with us...who are you?"

Chadwick walked toward me, the air in the room turning heavy and cold. He didn't stop until he was inches away from me, the scent of sandalwood and expensive tobacco filling my senses. He reached into the drawer, his large hand wrapping around the grip of the gun with a terrifying familiarity.

He didn't hesitate. In one swift, fluid motion the hand gun was pressed against my forehead, the metal biting into my skin.

CLICK-CLACK

The silence of the office was punctured by the predatory click of the gun.