Despised And Devoured By My Step Father

Home Of Lies

Danny's POV

"Leo! Leo!"

My heart drummed a frantic beat as I yelled, heading toward the ICU. I froze at the edge of the ICU ward, my hoodie pulled low, feeling like a ghost haunting my own life. Inside the room, Leo looked like a discarded ragdoll. His face was a map of purple black bruises, his jaw wired shut, and his breathing came in wet, mechanical wheezes.

Leo's mom was there, her face a mask of grief, clutching on her rosary like it was a lifeline. I stepped inside, the air in the room felt like lead. I wanted to scream or puke. I wanted to tell them the monster who was behind this. But I couldn't. Never in my wildest dream had I thought Chadwick would actually go to this extent. I thought it was all bluffing.

"Danny," Leo wheezed, his eyes fluttering open. They were bloodshot and glazed with high grade painkillers.

"Don't talk, men. Just... don't," I whispered, my voice cracking like dry wood.

"They were two of them," Leo managed, the words whistling through the wires in his mouth. "Behind the gym. They didn't look like students, Danny. They were.... professionals. Big. Ski masks. They just beat me up, they didn't want money. They just wanted to beat me up.

My stomach did a sick, violent flip. The words from Leo made my heart scream at me. This was all my fault. I felt a hot, jagged surge of rage. I couldn't stay there. I couldn't look at Leo's shattered face and not see my own reflection in the wreckage. I muttered some hollow lie about having to get back for curfew and bolted out of the room, the smell of antiseptic sticking to the back of my throat like poison.

By the time I reached the house, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky the color of fresh bruise. I let myself in, my chest tight. The house was filled with the domestic aroma of fresh meal.

"Danny! You are just in time," my mum called from the kitchen, her voice bright and cheerful.

I walked into the dining room, my pulse thrumming in my ears. Chadwick was already there, sitting at the head of the table, looking like every bit of a moral stepfather. He was scrolling through a tablet, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He didn't even look up, but I felt his presence like a physical weight in the room.

I pulled out my chair, the wood screeching against the tile. I sat down, my eyes fixed on Chadwick with a lethal, silent intensity. I wished my eyes could just burn him to ash. How can he beat up a boy old enough to be his son?

"You're moody," mum noted, setting a steaming plate of coconut rice in front of me. She leaned over and kissed my forehead, her skin smelling like expensive perfume and onions. "Rough day at the lab?"

"Thugs tried to kill my friend today," I said, my voice flat and hard. I didn't even blink. I watched Chadwick's face for even a flicker of guilt, a twitch of a muscle.

Chadwick finally looked up, his expression shifting into one of deep, calculated concern. He set the tablet down and leaned forward, his hands folded on the table. "Good heavens, Danny. Was it the boy you always hang out with, Leo?"

"Yes. Leo," I hissed.

"That's terrible," Chadwick said, his voice smooth and warm, like honey over a razor blade. "Who on earth is wicked enough to beat up an innocent boy like that? They must be so evil. May the Lord have mercy on them."

"Awwnn, Amen darling," my mum said, oblivious as she tucked into her dinner. "I hope the police find them."

"I am sure they will try, honey," Chadwick murmured.

Then, I felt it.

Under the table, the heavy, warm weight of a hand slid onto my thigh. I froze, my fork halfway to my mouth. Chadwick didn't stop. He moved with a bold, predatory confidence, his hand sliding upward, his fingers finding the gap in my joggers.

I felt the first instinct to fight. I shoved his hand away violently, my knee knocking against the underside of the table with a loud thud.

"Everything okay, Danny?" My mum asked, looking up from her plate.

"Fine," I choked out, my face flushing a deep, shameful red. "Everything is just fine."

Chadwick didn't even flich. He just took a sip of his wine, his lower lip curving in a wicked smirk. A few seconds later, his hand was back. This time, it wasn't a suggestion. Chadwick's large, powerful grip closed around my c**k, pulling me forward just an inch, stroking me right there in front of my mother.

My brain screamed no, but my body was traitorous again. All the rage I had felt disappeared slowly from me as my c**k began to harden at every stroke. I squeezed my eyes shut, my breathing becoming shallow and ragged. I hated myself. I hated the fact I was enjoying it.

"Eat your dinner, Danny," Chadwick whispered, his voice a low vibration that only I could hear. "You need your strength for tomorrow."

I sat there, a prisoner in my own dining table. I chewed the food like it was cardboard, trying not to moan, trying not to move as Chadwick increased his pace on me. Every time my mum laughed or told a story about her shopping, I felt my soul shatter.

Finally, Chadwick pulled his hand away, wiping his fingers on a linen napkin with a bored elegance. "That reminds me, honey. I will be heading out tonight. My cousin is quite ill in the hospital. I promised I would drop some supplies."

By midnight, the house was silent or it was supposed to be. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, the ghost of Chadwick's touch still burning on my skin. I just couldn't sleep.

And then, I heard it.

It wasn't the sound of someone returning home. It was a rhythmic, muffled sound coming from down the hall. A groan. A sharp, feminine gasp. It was unmistakable sound of s*x, definitely coming from my mother's room. I wished my mother knew, this house wasn't soundproof, and I could hear all her moans every time.

I sat up, my heart hammering. Did he come back? He would really finish what he started with me, to my mum. What a scumbag.

Driven by a mix of anger and a desperate need to catch the monster in a lie, I crept out of my room. The hallway was dark, the air cold on my bare skin. I reached my mother's door, which was cracked open just an inch. The sounds were louder and now desperate.

I leaned in, peeping through the gap in the heavy cotton curtains.

My brain short circuited.

It wasn't Chadwick. It wasn't a man at all.

My mother, Sarah, the woman that had spent her days talking about values and what was right and wasn't. Her back arched, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated pleasure. She was locked in a scissor- style embrace, grinding their p*****s together with another woman, not just any woman, her best friend, Elena.

I backed away, my hands trembling. My mum wasn't just cheating, she was also a lesbian? After preaching all these years about gay relationship not being right, she was ......

"Oh f**k you, Elena! Yes .....just like that!"