My dearest father...

His vision is swimming.

Gabriel's befuddled, and he can feel the blood pounding in his ears with each conscious breath he takes. His face feels wet, and for a moment he can't remember why. His body is jolted, and he comes to completely.

It was closing in on two, and his father still wasn't home. His wife had long gone to bed, used to her husband’s little trysts that kept him late. However, his son, still at home, was very much awake, in the middle of a furious debate with himself about the pros and cons of taking a medical training course the local school was offering. A crash from downstairs jerks him from his thoughts, and he tiptoes from his bedroom, peering over the banister to the floor below.

His father is home now, righting himself after seemingly tripping over the coat rack in a poor, or perhaps frustrated?, attempt to hang his coat. Turning, he seems aware he's being watched, and glares upward. Dexter flinches back, but not quick enough. 

"Dexter!" 

"...yes sir?" He peers back over the banister. He's clopping up the stairs now, his face red and the smell clinging to his suit is rancid.

"You stink. How much have you had to drink?" Dexter asks without thinking.

The stench is over powering, his nostrils burning, adding to the painful coiling in his stomach. It makes him want to throw up, but he hasn't eaten since that afternoon, and he heaves and splutters, his mouth dry. His empty stomach can churn out nothing. 

Father pauses for a moment, then silently pushes past his son, half stumbling toward the bathroom half way down the hall. Dexter lingers outside the door, waiting for his father to finish relieving himself, and half wonders if he should take this opportunity to sneak back into his bedroom and pretend he hadn't been out of it in the first place. 

Before Dexter could so much as move, his father reemerges from the bathroom, and takes hold of Dexter's shirt. "You." he says simply. Dexter swallows thickly, trying not to look nervous. It's an almost impossible feat, his father simply looking at you was enough to intimidate you, but coupled with alcohol and Dexter trembled where he stood. 

"Why aren't you asleep, boy, it's a school night." He slurs. Dexter's eyes dart around, looking for some form of escape. There is none.

"I was uh, working on a school assignment." he says lamely. Father shakes him by the collar, striding forward into Dexter's bedroom. "Doesn't look like it to me." he grumbles, swinging his son around and shoving him toward his bed, where he sits obediently. He picks up a book Gabriel had been looking at. Splashed on its gold and purple pages it tells of the benefits of taking the course. "What's this trash?" His father asks, dropping the paper into the waste bin. 

Quickly, Dexter snatches it back out, but quicker than he the back of father's hand comes into contact with his face. 

Gabriel flinches and ducks. 

Another jolt and Dexter is sobbing again. He claws at hands holding him firmly in place, but he's too exhausted to pry the fingers loose, and his body aches with every movement. 

Realizing his mistake too late, Dexter's now curled on the bed, nursing his bruised jaw. It was still healing from a previous fracture, but this time he suspects its broken. It hurts too much to not be. 

"You're mine." Father is slurring, reaching for Gabriel and grappling with him a moment before he's got the boy overpowered. "What you need..." his speech is slurring more, but his eyes speak of lucidity. Gabriel is struggling now, and whatever his father is telling him is falling on deaf ears. "Le-let--" he starts to say, but Father's pressing a hand to his throat now, holding him still. Gabriel rasps for air, effectively distracted from the other hand, pressing painfully against every soft spot on Gabriel's chest. 

Yet when he feels the material drag against his hips, he lets out a strangled cry. Father is crushing his windpipe now, and he can't breathe. His vision swims and his struggling weakens, then ceases completely. He's aware he can no longer form a coherent thought, black spots popping into his vision, and his eyes close part way. Suddenly, for a fleeting moment, he becomes aware of the pressure in his lower back, but before he can fully wrap his head around whats happening to him, the pain creeps up on him, paralyzing him and making it that much easier to black out. He does.

Suddenly the hands are gone, the offending stench is receding, and Gabriel is alone. His stomach aches, and his body is covered in a layer of sweat, his face an extra layer with what he will only admit to himself are tears. Rolling onto his side, he lets out a pained breath. Nothing but quality time with daddy dearest.