Scarred

“I got you an early birthday present,” Dad said.

For a second, I wanted to be excited, but surprises were never good with my father. I looked at the box with apprehension.

“Aren’t you going to fucking open it?” he demanded.

He hadn’t even bothered to wrap the brown cardboard box. I hesitantly lifted the lid only to find... a gun; a revolver to be exact, it was my grandfather’s.

“In two weeks, you’ll be the same age as when my father introduced me to the family business.”

I knew that I had to be grateful or he’d get angry, so I breathed a thank you.

“You’re welcome,” he said, “now take it so we can start your initiation.”

“My what?” I stammered.

“Follow me,” he said, wearing a sinister grin.

I was shocked to find a man tied to a chair in the middle of the warehouse.

“This guy’s family thinks they can steal our territory from underneath us,” Dad said. “So you’re going to put a bullet through his right knee; our signature warning message.”

Dad ran the biggest drug ring in the city, and he had ambitions to mould me into a fitting successor just like his father had with him.

The only flaw in his grand plan was the fact that I abhorred acts of violence and had absolutely no ambitions to follow in his footsteps.

“What are you waiting for? It’s only going to become more difficult the longer you just stand there.”

Although the man’s mouth was taped shut, his eyes spoke volumes. They begged me for mercy; they beseeched me to undo his predicament.

But I couldn’t.

If I didn’t shoot, Dad surely would. I had a chance to please my father, yet lose a part of myself that I could never regain.

I raised the weapon and pointed it at the guy’s right leg. If I did what Dad asked, he’d be crippled for life.

His family intended to steal from us, yet we were also thieves. Our drugs stole people’s lives and livelihoods, so why should I tarnish my peace of mind to continue the destruction?

I cocked the hammer, and my hands immediately started to shake uncontrollably. What would be the consequences if I refused?

Bang!

It took my father a moment to realize that I’d shot into the ceiling instead. He pulled his own weapon and shot without hesitation. The man’s screams were muffled by the tape.

Dad stared daggers at me before smacking me across the face with his spiked ring. I instinctively covered my bleeding cheek.

The wound would leave a small scar; Dad’s ultimate sign of disappointment. It was now the second to adorn my face.

“I thought you were ready,” Dad said, pulling the gun out of my hand. “I was wrong... Again!”

When I was younger, I thought that I was just like all the other rich kids at our private school, until my first real bully.

I was stupid enough to tell my father, and it fucked me over twice. I earned my first scar at age twelve because I hadn’t fought back, and nobody at school wanted to be my friend anymore.

The rumors inevitably caught up with me. Apparently, the boy’s parents had received an “unwelcome visitor,” and even the principal had been threatened. After that, everyone walked on eggshells around me, including the teachers. Fortunately, I always had a seat next to my sister for lunch.

“At least, we have each other, Antony,” Isabella had said, squeezing my hand. It was a small comfort in my newfound exile.

My next torture came during puberty. I was terrified when I first realized that I was enjoying the locker room way more than I should. If anyone were to discover that I liked boys...

If my father found out!

I shuddered at the very thought, yet my hormones demanded action. Instead, pictures and videos from the internet satisfied their endless hunger.

I became more and more bitter and resentful of my classmates. I was never invited to any of the parties, I could never hold hands with a crush, and I would never be ‘normal’.

In the aftermath of my unforgettable seventeenth birthday, I was still shell-shocked. I figured my brain was blocking out what happened until it figured out a way to cope.

I floated around like a ghost; even Isabella was unable to get through the fog to comfort me. Then one day, everything seemed to change when a new student joined our class.

He had jet black, spikey hair, and he was wearing subtle makeup that made his face look deathly pale. To complete the look, he wore black eyeliner, lipstick, and even his nails were polished black. A collar around his neck with spikey studs had a metal medallion engraved with the words, “FUCK OFF” in large capital letters.

If it weren’t for the fact that we had a compulsory school uniform, I was sure that his outfit would have been even more elaborate. He was undoubtedly an attention-seeking narcissist, and I immediately disliked him, even though he was particularly cute.

When his eyes met mine, there was a flash of something I’d never seen before. He walked straight up to the perpetually empty spot at my desk and dumped his bag.

“Dope scars,” he said. “How did you get them?”

“None of your goddamn business! ...and this seat is taken, so YOU fuck off,” I said, pointing at his medallion.

He stared at me as if I was joking, but when he realized that I wasn’t, he took his bag and sat down next to Marcy instead.

Who the hell did he think he was?

More importantly, how had he managed to trigger a reaction that wasn’t the complete apathy I felt for everything else?

I was surprised to find Dad leaning against the town car when I stepped through the school gates. I could hardly recall the last time he’d come to pick me up.

“Wait with me for a moment,” he said, taking a drag from a cigarette.

I nodded an answer, unsure of what was going on. Should I be afraid?

“That’s the one,” he said, pointing at the new guy.

What could the kid have possibly done to attract the attention of my father? Why did I suddenly see a flash of Dad pulling the trigger, like every night before waking up in a cold sweat?

“Get in the car, we need to talk,” Dad said, opening the door. Dad never asked; he gave instructions.

“I’ve been thinking a lot since your birthday,” he said, looking out the window.

Oh, fuck!

“And I came to the conclusion that I should reconsider your position in our... enterprise.”

I was so confused, but mostly scared.

“I’ll never ask you to hold a weapon ever again; those tasks can be delegated to others.”

What?!

“But you can help me in a different capacity. If you perform to my expectations, I might even consider cutting you loose... so you can decide your own future.”

A life free from him and his tyranny? If that was on the table, then what could he possibly want in return?

“What do I need to do, Dad?”

“Ah, music to my ears,” he said. “From now on, that kid with the ridiculous hair is going to be your best friend.”

Now, I was truly lost.

“He’s the son of the new District Attorney, and we’re going to use your friendship to dig up dirt on his father.”

“I don’t understand. Why such a subtle approach? Don’t you usually apply... different methods?”

“I’ll be bumping into some legal trouble soon, so I’ll need to own him instead of scare him.”

So all I had to do was spy? In exchange for my freedom? A life of self-determination, an actual chance at some form of happiness?

“I see only one problem with your plan,” I said, having already decided that I’d do whatever Dad asked.

He gave me an angry look, as if I was going to deny him.

“Won’t he know who I am? Who you are?”

“Of course, he will,” Dad said, his face relaxing. “The legal trouble I’ll be facing is the case his father is building against me.”

Oh, fuck!

“But the word is that the kid despises his father. Being friends with you would be the ultimate ‘fuck you’ to his old man.”

I stared at my dad for a moment before saying, “I’ll do it.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” he replied, wrapping his arm around me.

It felt like appreciation, something I’d only ever felt with Mom all those years ago.