Chapter 2

Avery woke before his alarm clock went off to his father's hand sliding over his hip and a wet mouth on the back of his neck. He groaned at his father's touch, clenching his hand in the sheets and burying his face in his pillow. It wasn't unusual for his dad to crawl into his bed and touch and cuddle--he often even called him by his mother's name--Alina. Sometimes his father even acted like he regretted how harsh he'd been with his punishments, but Avery wasn't fooled anymore. He used to believe his dad was sorry years ago, but not anymore.

"My sweetheart," his father whispered softly, and Avery could tell the man was still half-asleep.

His father slid his hands over his back. Avery held himself still, knowing from past experience that he was nowhere near strong enough to fight him, and Avery wasn't in the mood for any more pain than he already had. As his father slid into him more gently this time than usual, Avery had the momentary thought to be thankful that his father was using lube this time. As he lay there clenching his jaw while his father finished, he tried to think of something else, anything else, and the only thing that came to mind was the bulk of a stranger he'd run into like a wall yesterday. The dark eyes of the blonde had followed him down the street, and Avery found himself wishing at that moment that the stranger had abducted him. At least that man was cute, and, for fuck's sake, not related to him.

"Come on, son," he said brightly, patting his sore back, "Time to get up to go to school. If you don't hurry, you won't get breakfast."

His father's smirk left him cold.

Avery watched his father disappear through his door before he pulled up his flannel pajama bottoms and headed to the bathroom, using a rag to wipe the stickiness from his back. He took a moment to look in the mirror at his bruised ribs poking out through his skin. He swept his hair back and saw a light red mark high on his cheekbone, remembering where his father had backhanded him yesterday. He was actually surprised his father had hit his head at all, usually he was much more careful than that. He never left marks that couldn't be covered by his shirts and pants. Not anymore, anyway.

He remembered the first time someone questioned the odd looking marks on his wrists when his father had found a liking to tying his arms when he didn't cooperate. A teacher had noticed the rope burns and a bruise on his cheek--he'd remembered her well, one of the only people who had been suspicious. Of course that was years ago when he was around ten, shortly after mom had left.

Dad had explained that Avery had been playing cowboys and Indians with his cousin they had visited that past weekend--of course, he didn't actually have a cousin, but that wasn't the point. Avery had been so afraid of what might happen if he disagreed with his father's explanation, that he'd easily lied to his teacher, agreeing with his father. Over the years, Avery had gotten very good at lying. Of course, now he was even better at hiding it in the first place.

His father had even gotten Avery some sweatbands after that close call and Avery had just gotten in the habit of wearing them all the time. So after several months of wearing them, no one tended to wonder why he was wearing them--it became his look.

Then a couple years ago, his father had seen a boy with a bunch of leather bands and piercings and chains, and suddenly Avery had been "gifted" with some wide leather braces with embedded silver rings. They'd made it much quicker for his father to strap him down since he could just use the rings on the braces instead of rope, and they didn't leave the marks that rope did either. Avery found they helped perpetrate his loner attitude by giving him a bit of the goth look that kept people at bay, so at least they worked for him in one way.

As he slipped off the pajamas, he groaned at the fingerprint marks on his emaciated hips. Figures, the last ones had just been fading away.

Avery let the warm shower wash away his father's stench, letting the heat soak through his aching muscles and tried not to think about how his life was now.

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Of course, no one at school noticed anything was wrong. They never did. Avery may have walked more stiffly and sat more gingerly, but he blended into the background as usual. The girls chatted animatedly at the news that they were going to have a student teacher in science class starting Monday. The boys ignored his small form as they bumped by him to their lockers. And the teachers were too busy preparing for their next class to notice anything off with the quiet teen in the back of the class. It was how he'd gotten by the last six years. Staying quiet, unnoticed. Because questions were bad. Questions got him in trouble.

Avery took the shortcut home through the park and stopped on the bench in the sun. It was his moment to breathe, escape. It was the farthest bench at the edge of the park, but left him a view of the basketball court and playground. He pulled his knees up and laid his forehead on them, listening to the sounds of laughing children, the calls of parents, and the sound of a basketball dribbling on the court. He pulled out a ragged spiral notebook and a pencil, idly turning to a blank page. The notebook was full of pencil drawings. He found it was one of the few things he could do without causing his father to get angry.

The calls of the moms to their children to be careful made his heart ache. His pencil flew over the page, absently sketching a mom who was sitting on a bench holding a baby while watching her toddler play. He missed his mom and always had wondered why she had left him. Why hadn't she taken him with her?

Of course, before she left, he didn't know what his father would become, and he sometimes wondered if his mom had somehow known. But why would she then leave him with the man? No, she couldn't have known what kind of life she was leaving Avery to; he had to believe that she couldn't have known.

Once, his father had been like any other dad, when his mom had been around. He closed his eyes as he leaned his head against his knees, tears dripping on the sketching in his lap.

His mom came into his room as he sat curled up on the mattress of his unmade bed. Her ebony curls framed her face as she looked at him sympathically. A smile curled across her lips as he frowned at her.

"I know you'll love it at school," she began in her soothing voice, "Everyone's a little nervous when they first start school..."

He gave her the best glare a five year old could muster, doubting her words. He didn't want to go to school knowing he'd be the youngest in the class. His birthday was the end of September, so he was allowed to start kindergarten even though he was only four now because he'd be five by the September 30th cut-off date.

"You are such a smart little boy," she soothed, "You're going to be just fine. There will be new friends to meet and lots of new things to do."

Over her shoulder, he saw his father leaning in the doorway, smiling.

"Hey, sport," he called, "Little nervous about tomorrow?"

His mother gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead as his father stepped closer. His dad sat next to him as his mother rose.

"Tell you what," his dad started with a grin, "I bet I can make it a little easier."

His dad produced the Lego set from behind his back that he'd been hoping to get for his birthday at the end of the month. He reached for the box as his mother laughed lightly.

"Carl, you shouldn't spoil him so much," she chided playfully as she walked to the door.

His father watched his mother walk away with affection and love in his eyes. He turned back to his son who was grinning at the new toy. He ruffled the boy's ebony locks.

"You look so much like your mother," he mused as he lifted his son's chin and gazed at the deep green eyes.

Avery glanced up as he heard a shout from a parent on the playground that it was time to go. He could feel wet streaks on his face. Fuck. He wiped at his eyes quickly, wondering why he'd let himself drift back into the past like that.

Quickly looking at his watch, he realized he needed to hurry home as well. He needed to get home and get his homework done, before he got into any more trouble. He spent hours keeping his grades up, and usually had little trouble maintaining A's and B's--because if he didn't, he paid for it in other ways. Except now, he was struggling in physics. For some reason, he sucked at that this quarter. He wasn't sure if his father was just 'distracting' him more lately or if the electricity and such were just not his thing.

Avery forced himself to walk quickly. His backpack jostling on his back made him wince as it rubbed the bruises, but it was better to be on time than risk another punishment.

He'd made it up to his room before he heard his father come in the door. Fortunately, he heard his father talking on his cell phone, so he'd be distracted and not looking for him.

"Look, Mr. Degasio," he heard his father saying as he shrugged off his suit jacket. "I'll can get you the property, but it will take time... Good.... Yes, sir, I can get the permits through the council too .... Great, sounds good, William.... Alright, bye."

Avery held his breath as his father passed his doorway. Carl Greene strode by with a smile on his face into his own room, and Avery breathed out a sigh of relief. Whatever deal he was working on was making him happy. And when he was happy, Avery's body didn't hurt so much. Maybe the weekend wouldn't be so bad....