Chapter 2: Whispers

I looked around. There was no one in sight. Hearing footsteps behind me, my pace quickened, feeling the presence closing in on me. Was it that creature or his imagination? As i neared his house, i saw nobody. "Come out, you coward!" I screamed, gathering my courage.

"This is the first time I've seen this. If I told anyone, they'd mock me," I thought. "I felt different tonight, invincible, until I entered the house." There, my father sat on the black sofa, drinking beer. He glanced at the clock and then at his wristwatch.

"I was starting to think you got kidnapped or lost your way, boy," his father said.

"D-dad, I'm s-sorry," James stuttered, pleading.

"Oh, trust me, you will be sorry," his father replied, standing up and removing his belt. "Now, boy, get over there," Mr. Fred pointed to the bed. "Come on, I don't have all day." He glanced impatiently at his silver wristwatch, then at James, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt.

I leaned over the bed. "Down with the pants, now," Mr. Fred ordered. Nervously, I slid down my trousers as my dad tightened his grip on the belt and walked over. I have been through this many times, punished for the smallest things, like forgetting to take out the trash.

The room was cloaked in tense silence, broken by the ominous click of the belt buckle. My father's eyes were cold, devoid of mercy, as he gripped the leather strap. I trembled, eyes wide with fear, knowing what was to come but powerless to stop it.

The first lash cracked through the air like a gunshot, searing across my back. I bit down on my lip to stifle the scream, but the pain was relentless, each strike burning deeper. My father's movements were methodical, each swing driven by unspoken rage.

With every strike, My body convulsed, muscles tensing and releasing in a futile attempt to escape. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the sweat and blood staining his shirt. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating me as the relentless rhythm continued.

My father's face remained impassive, each blow delivered with chilling detachment. The room echoed with the sharp crack of leather against skin, I muffled sobs haunting the air. It was a ritual of pain, an unending cycle of violence that scarred them both in ways that could never heal.

Finally, the onslaught ceased, the belt falling to the floor with a dull thud.My father turned away, leaving me crumpled and broken, a silent testament to the brutality. The room fell silent once more, the air heavy with the aftermath of cruelty.

Despite the pain, I couldn't stop thinking about what he had witnessed earlier.

Was it real, or just an animal? If it was an animal, why hadn't it chased him? It had stood there, its dark eyes consuming the existence of everything around it. I felt weak, not just from the beating but from the haunting image that seemed to consume my soul.

Had I escaped just in time? Even though he was away from that creature, I could still feel its presence.

I prayed silently to remove the pain and fear. "James, it's 7 AM. You're running late for your bus," his mother called. Glancing at the clock, it was 7:03 AM. School started at 7:30. Jumping out of bed, I felt my butt still hurting. "Suck it up, James,"I repeated to myself as i tightened the tie, staring into the cracked mirror.

I grabbed a red apple from the table and kissed his mom on the forehead. "Thanks, Mom."

"Where do you think you're going? Your bus doesn't get here for seven minutes. Sit down and eat your pancakes," she said.

"But Mom, I need to prepare."

"That's the whole reason you're going to school, my boy, to finish what you started."

I knew she was right. I reluctantly sat down and ate. My little sister, Grace, always happy, was ready to go. "Okay, get ready, your bus has arrived," mom said.