Page 48 of Teach Me To Sin
Benji
He got me donuts. Four of them.
I’m too sick to eat one, but I hold the box in my lap all the way home after practice.
Gideon suggests I eat one off his dick. I tell him that I’ll literally step out of the moving car at sixty miles an hour if he touches me or the box, and he can explain to Dad why I’m a smear of paste on the pavement.
I enter the house by the back door, then pack my donuts in a plastic bag to keep them fresh before hiding them in a cupboard behind the protein powder that Alek suggested I should get for my workouts.
My bare feet don’t make any noise on the slick floors as I head through the sitting room, the reading room, and the den–three redundant, unused rooms–into the back hall. Dad’s office door is open a crack, which means he’s here. If he’s away, it’s locked up tighter than a bank vault. I’m pretty sure the FBI would have a ball in there.
I stare at the white-painted wood for several minutes, getting up the courage to knock. Even though Alek was quiet and sad tonight because of the graffiti, he still gave me donuts and sat on the deck with me for ages, helping me set new goals and make a fresh training plan. It’s that which finally pushes me to raise my fist and rap on the door. The hinges creak a little as it shifts under my hand.
“What?”
I try to speak, but nothing comes out. Clearing my throat, I try again. “It’s me, sir.”
After a pause, I hear some shuffling as he hides whatever he’s working on. “Come in.”
Ever since I was little, I’ve only come into this room to be punished for doing something wrong. My whole body screams at me not to cross the threshold. But I have to be more than a fucking coward for once in my life. Trying to fix my crazy post-swimming hair, I square my shoulders and step inside.
It’s a pretty chill room, actually. Blue wallpaper, a fireplace, some cozy armchairs and a whole bookcase of elaborate ship models, with thousands of tiny strings for rigging. I still get nauseous whenever I see a model boat because I used to stare at these ones while he punished me.
Dad puts down the paper he’s holding, takes off his glasses, and looks me up and down. He’s not physically intimidating–we’re both just 5’9” and he’s starting to get the scrawny, saggy look that old men have. But society could collapse–riots in the streets, fire falling from the sky, nuclear bombs–and my biggest fear would still be standing in this blue and white room full of ships while he looks at me and decides my fate. “Can I help you, son?”
“Um.”Great start. I grit my teeth and try to pull myself together. “I’m done. I’m not doing this anymore.”
He fixes a stack of paper, so all the edges are lined up, then takes a sip from the mug of coffee at his elbow. “Why do you think that?”
“I saw them washing off the graffiti.” He doesn’t even react, just goes back to reading his paper until I’m forced to keep talking. “You said nothing bad would happen to him.”
Lowering the paper, he tilts his head at me. “You’re not very bright, Bennett.”
“I never would have agreed to this shit–” My voice cracks embarrassingly and I stop, partly because I ran out of words and partly because I know I’ve already crossed a line. “I’m out.”
He takes another sip of coffee, then frowns. “You realize you won’t ever be allowed to see him again, correct?”
Oh Jesus. I feel like I’m being flayed open with my organs on display, like a dissected bug pinned to cardboard. “That doesn’t change my mind,” I choke out.
“This is the definition of pointless.” His lip curls as his eyes rake over me. “If you won’t gather information, we’ll find someone else. A new favorite person for him to play with. And since we’re valuing honesty today, I promise I will personally make sure he knowsthis–” he holds up a photo of the vandalism between two fingers “–was because of you. As well as all the articles.”
My breath snags painfully in my chest. “Please,” I stammer. Amazing how fast this devolved into begging. It always does. “Please just let me disappear from his life. I’ll work in the company; I’ll do anything you want.”
His face doesn’t budge. “I told you what’s going to happen, Bennett. The choice is yours.”
I don’t want him to see that I’m trembling like a little bitch, but I know he can tell. My throat wants to scream at him, but my words just come out as a whisper. “Fuck you.”
“Right,” he hums. “So moving on, is he canceling the fundraiser or not?”
Hanging my head, I stare at the thick, cream carpet, which looks pristine because no one ever walks here. I’ve always wanted to sneak in and piss on it. “They canceled classes today and washed it off before anyone else saw. The police didn’t do anything about it. And the fundraiser is still on. I’m supposed to go.”
When I glance up, he doesn’t look pleased. I don’t understand what exactly he wants, but I do know that the Atwoods are the family who got away during Clint Simmons’ trial. Victor and Alek tried to stop it, but my dad proved that money means more than evidence. If Alek found out my real name, he’d know who I was in an instant.
I was just supposed to talk to Alek when we met in the mountains–find out what he’s been doing and whether he was still looking for justice. When he got carried away and asked me to swim for him, it set off a chain of events that got more and more out of control until I knew I made the wrong choice. I thought my Dad was going to use the information to keep himself out of trouble, not to destroy Alek. Until this morning, I thought Alek finding out would be the worst possible scenario. Now I’m terrified of what I might be helping my father do next.
“You are, in fact, going,” Dad orders. “Tell me any other details you have, then get out of my sight and don’t bother me again.”
When he’s done with me, I stumble upstairs to my bedroom and crawl under the covers with my head toward the bottom, so I’m wrapped in a suffocating, secure cave. I want to cry, because it’s been right behind my eyes for hours, but now it won’t come. If I ever want to look myself in the face again, I only have one option left–I have to go to the fundraiser and face the man I adore, the first person to treat me with love and respect, the man who offered me every piece of himself, and I have to tell him the truth. However he reacts, whatever he says to me, I deserve it. At least my father won’t have the leverage to hurt him anymore.