Yes Father

By: Hanson Phreek and Faerie Phreek

Warning: This story deals with child abuse. It also contains some harsh language. If you are uncomfortable reading this sort of thing, please go back.

Disclaimer: Faerie Phreek and I own this story, the plot, the characters, and any catch phrases someone may pick up from it. The phrase "Bum-Fuck Maryland" I picked up from a friend, but am using it with her permission. Please ask permission before using any of the previously mentioned items.

Author's Note: I wrote this unexpectedly. I just got inspired to write and this is what came out. If you would like me to continue it, please let me know, and you're welcome to give suggestions on what should happen. Thanks and enjoy.

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She sat alone in her room doodling. She was bored and was trying to find something to do. She put her pen down and walked over to her mirror, pulling her long blonde hair back, into a ponytail. She smiled at herself, her hazel-blue eyes lighting up in this rare moment of happiness. "Beautiful," she mumbled.

She heard the front door of her house open and began to panic. He's home and I haven't cooked dinner yet. He's gonna be pissed. She thought as she frantically grabbed the paper and pen off the floor and shoved it into her underwear drawer.

"Where are you, Bitch? Where's my dinner?" She heard him yell. She rushed out of her room and tried to apologize, but was met by the back of his hand as he hit her. "I told you that I wanted dinner to be ready, hot, and sittin' on the table when I got home. Do you not love me? Now get in that kitchen and make me some food," he yelled, slapping her repeatedly.

"Yes father," she looked down at the ground and went to the kitchen and began cooking food. And I was finally bruise-free, well I'm not anymore. She kept thinking along those lines as she cooked him his favorite meal, spaghetti and meatballs.

*~~@~~* Switch to a young adult sitting at a bar, drinking *~~@~~*

"And that's what my life was like," She concluded her story.

"How old were you when that happened, Mrs....." the bartender inquired, not knowing her name.

"Amy. I was seven when it started; it went on like that for years after that. It ended when my dad was thrown in jail for child abuse. My mom finally got fed up and called the cops. He gets out in like ten years. It's been five years since mom and I moved in with her sister here."

"And you've lived in Bum-Fuck Maryland since? You poor thing," he commented, his voice containing the trademark "Southern Maryland" accent. "I know what it's like to have lived away from here, and I miss it. I've been here for close to twenty years now. And it sucks here."

"I know," she laughed, taking another drink. "I should get going now." She paid for her drink, thanked the bartender, and left.

Outside the street was dark, dimly lit by one or two street lamps. Her small blue neon sat parked a few yards away on the other side of the small parking lot. She made her way over to it, climbed in, inserted the key into the ignition, and started the engine.

*~~@~~* Switch to a young police officer just coming home to an empty apartment. *~~@~~*

Blake pushed open the door of his second-floor apartment and tossed his coat onto the back of his black leather couch. Well, it was supposed to be leather, but all he could afford for now was this cheap imitation.

He walked into his bedroom, unbuttoning his blue uniform shirt before slipping it off and tossing it into his laundry hamper, followed closely by his white cotton t-shirt. He changed from his dress pants into a pair of faded blue jeans that fit close to his long legs, showing off his tightly muscled legs. He didn’t bother with the shirt. Never did.

Running his fingers through his messy mop of auburn hair, he made his way into his kitchen, pressing the button on his answering machine as he did so. “Hi Blake, its Angelina,” came a husky feminine voice. He reached the machine in two strides, pressing the delete button quickly. He was NOT going to talk to that bitch.

Moving back into his kitchen, he opened up the freezer and pulled out the last microwave-dinner he had left. It was all he ate, He knew it wasn’t very good for him, but his daily workouts at the gym kept him in shape. He had a six-pack; his pectorals were firm and accentuated his stomach. Girls literally ate up the sight of him, and sometimes he was afraid he would need to get a mop just to wipe up the drool.

Popping the meal into the microwave, he listened to the droning voices of telemarketers and bill collectors and charity spokespersons over his answering machine. What was he going to do with himself? It was Friday night and normally he was preparing to go out to some club in DC with the newest girlfriend prospect. But he hadn’t been out in weeks. Not since he got rid of Angelina after the big Tom incident.

Oh yeah. There was something he wanted to think about. Sighing, he plopped down on his cheap leather couch with his dinner and began to eat, staring at the black screen of his TV.

As he chewed in silence, he pondered what to do with himself. He finally settled on taking a trip to the local bar, “Bubbas”. A few beers and he would come home and do his laundry or something. He just needed to pass the time.

Throwing out what was left of his meal, he made his way to his room and pulled on a skin-tight black t-shirt and slipped on a pair of heavy tan work boots. He grabbed his keys and made his way down to his car, a small black Ford Probe.

He climbed in and sped off in the direction of the bar.

*~~@~~* Switch to Amy driving home*~~@~~*

She placed the car into reverse and pulled out of the parking space. She flipped on the radio and began the five minute drive home that she could do bind folded. Which she actually did once, she was really drunk and someone dared her to do it, so she did.

She pulled into the driveway in front of the apartment that her mom and her shared. It wasn’t the best of apartments and was in a pretty bad neighbor hood, but it was home and that’s all that mattered. She walked up the three flights to their door and unlocked it.

“Mom, I’m home,” she yelled into the darkness, knowing that her mom worked the graveyard shift at the 7-Elven down the street. She grabbed a Pop-Tart, and plopped down on the old couch that was nearly broken in half. She munched, enjoying the strawberry goodness of it.

She finished, and strolled to her room. It wasn’t very big. It only held a twin sized bed, two shelves, and a closet. All of her clothes resided in her closet and her worldly possessions on the shelves. She didn’t own much, but she cherished what she had. She changed into a long t-shirt and a pair of beat up shorts and decided she was too tired to stay up to greet her mom, like she did almost every night. She got into bed and stared at the ceiling. A few minutes later, and she was a sleep.

*~~@~~* Switch to Blake sitting at the bar*~~@~~*

He ordered another beer and as he sat staring at the wall, a young female came and sat next to him. It took him a few minutes to notice she was there, but before he said anything he took a swig of his new beer. “What do you want?”

“That’s a nice way to say hello.” The female, who was blonde and had on a shirt that showed off just a little too much skin, said seductively and gently touched his arm.

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Well, I think I could change that.” She smiled her sweetest smile and moved closer to him, pressing herself against him.

“I don’t.” He scooted away from her.

“Well, fine. I don’t want you either.”

“I think you did, why else would you have come over here and tried to hit on me?”

She stood up and turned away from him. He took another swig of his beer.

“Wow. That’s a first,” Rob, the bartender said as he walked over, a look of mild surprise on his face.

“What?” Blake asked as he looked up at him.

“First time anyone turned down Tristan. I’d love to see your reaction to the rest of ‘em,” Rob said with a grin.

Blake just gave a grunt, not really caring about Tri-whatever and her friends. All he cared about was allowing himself to get lost in his beer, forget about women for the moment, then go home and sleep off his slight hangover. And he would have one, after the three shots of vodka he’d already had.

“So… what’s your story?” Rob asked in an attempt to engage the sulky man in conversation. He’d been silent with the exception of when he ordered or growled at a woman to get her to let him be.

“Huh?”

“What’s your story? No one comes into Bubba’s unless they got some trouble or somethin’. So what’s your story? Girl run off with some other guy?”

Blake gave a grunt as a rueful smile curved his lips. “You could say that…” he grumbled as he stared at the dark liquid in his beer bottle.

“So?”

Blake looked up at the other man. A sigh left his lips. “I caught her cheating on me with some wuss California surfer bum. She only wanted me for my money and my badge. So I ditched her. The minute I found out, I pulled the car over, made her get out, and drove off. Left her in the middle of nowhere on Rt. 5. Didn’t care what happened to her; Still don’t.” He gave a half grunt, half laugh before looking up at Rob again. “I know, weird behavior for a cop, but I don’t care.”

Rob only held up his hands in an ‘I don’t blame you gesture’ as he shook his head.

Blake watched him go back to wiping down the bar before he gestured for another sot of vodka. Rob obliged and poured him a double.

*~~@~~*Switch to Amy asleep on her bed*~~@~~*

Amy rolled over and heard the door to the apartment open. She knew it was just her mom and tried to go back to sleep.

“Amy, honey? Are you here?”

“I’m sleepin.”

“Ok. Sorry to wake you.”

“S’ok…” She drifted back off to sleep.

*~~@~~*Switch to Blake*~~@~~*

He groaned, walking back into his apartment. As he reached his bedroom, he dropped his keys on his dresser and peeled of his black t-shirt. He ran his hand through his hair and walked into his bathroom. He splashed some water on his face and grabbed a towel. “Ugh, I’m gonna have one big hangover tomorrow.” He stumbled into his room and fell onto the bed. He passed out and didn’t wake up for a long time.

When he finally did wake up it was nearly 2 in the afternoon. He rolled over and glanced at his clock. His head pounded as he tried to focus, and after a few seconds he gave up. He rolled out of bed and walked to his kitchen to get some Tylenol and a glass of water. He swallowed the Tylenol and chugged down the water, and plopped down on the couch.

His head continued to throb for quiet awhile and he just stared at the wall, trying to remember why he’d had so much to drink last night. When he finally did remember, he regretted even trying to remember.