Chapter 39: Beg me
The house looked the same as it always had, with one window pane completely smashed and the ones lucky enough to have escaped harm remaining fogged over with dust and spider webs. The three steps leading up to the door nearly made him fall, cement crumbling where people had neglected to repair the weather’s damage.
He didn’t bother knocking on the door, merely pushing against its battered frame until the hinges gave way and squealed his arrival.
A rough baritone immediately called back from the dim recesses of the house. “Who’s there?”
Xander flinched in response but said nothing.
Trying to keep his composure, he carefully traversed the ground, one foot snaking forward after the other. It was difficult to side step the shards of broken glass which littered the hall. Nature’s colours of green and sea blue glimmered at him, reflecting back the light his entry had allowed. For a moment he was forced to wonder how they could live like this. The thought was dismissed almost as soon as it appeared. These people probably wouldn’t have even noticed the bloody cuts on their feet. All they cared about was the next welfare check and the nearest bottle shop.
Such great role models…
The floor creaked and moaned the entire short trip to the main part of the house but he increasingly became slower in his movement. It almost hurt to walk forward, Xander knowing the fate that would befall him. He’d come with a specific purpose and finally it was time to bite the bullet.
Or so he hoped.
A shudder raced through him as the nerves once more appeared. Being in this place always had made him anxious. It was to be expected that on his final venture, the emotions would not disappear. Each stain of blood or alcohol he saw served as a potent reminder of his time in this prison, locked away from anything but the reality that his parents presented. Xander had been the sole child and his world had consisted of only one person and how to best to please the often drunk man.
His earliest memories seemed to filter through the cracks, an image of his father dragging him along the ground, heedless of the dirt or glass towards the front door. Unconsciously Xander brushed the corner of his mouth, remembering the way it split when his face met the pavement outside.
His father had marked him as forms of punishment long before Angel ever dug the knife in.
Wallpaper curled on the kitchen floor as he finally stepped into the room, shock registering as he regarded the shriveled form which had once been his greatest nightmare.
“Hello Dad.”
Abel Harris stared up from his position on the ground, back against a rotting cupboard door. It trembled as he loudly exhaled. He hadn’t expected this for at least another year. “You’ve come to do it then?” he asked bitterly.
”Well that all depends on you” said Xander. The weight in his pocket felt heavy now when faced with the reality of his father. Tired shoulders, once strong and muscled slumped in defeat and those strong fingers which had once clamped around his throat now could barely grasp the bottle casually rolling along the floor. The monster had finally aged.
And now he was losing the nerve to do it.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” The crevices from years of hard drinking became deeper as Abel struggled to understand. He’d abused this boy thinking that he’d never pay the price of following his own father’s footprints, but now it seemed like the loss of an eye had perhaps given the foresight, the twisted desire for revenge.
It was everything that he’d ever wanted.
In forty seven years of sweat, alcohol and misery Abel had never felt more proud of what he’d created.
Finally his son was a man.
The cruel twist of Xander’s lips made Abel both cringe in fear and glow with pride.
Unaware of his father’s thoughts, Xander leaned against the opposing bench, three fingers brushing lightly over his leather eye patch. He’d considered removing it, if only to gain a reaction from his father but had decided the risk of attention was too great. Sunnydale wasn’t so large as to not recognise an old face.
Even if that face was hideously scarred.
At the back of his mind, he knew that his parents had been home when it happened. Recalling the likely scenario, they’d probably been inside, passed out on their one tattered couch and unable or unwilling to hear his frantic screams. He could barely remember the ride to the hospital but his father’s absence was a glaring fact. Instead of a warm hand to provide him comfort, the paramedic’s cold statements had been all that kept him conscious. Neither his mother nor father ever visited to check up on his condition.
It only served to renew his reason for ever returning to this place.
“What did you think when some kids from school fucked me up dad? I mean, what seriously went through your mind?” Xander hated the pain which sounded through his voice.
Abel’s hands began to shake. The boy obviously wanted to draw it out. “I don’t know… I-“
“Of course you know dad ” interrupted Xander, fake enthusiasm tingeing the sarcastic smile. The pain he’d shown moments before was now completely hidden, shame flooding through the brunette’s mind for ever exposing himself. Play the fool Xander. It’s what you’re good at. He moved closer, breathing in the stench of cigarettes and whiskey like fresh air.
“I should probably thank you for warning me. You always told me it was going to happen. That one day ‘somebody else would realise I’m worthless and get rid of me’.” A dark expression filtered across his face, twisting the eye patch until it showed the edge of his scars. “Remember saying that dad?”
The dumb shaking of his father’s head only enraged him more.
“Aww come on. I know you remember. You’d repeat it at bedtime and when I woke you’d say it again. It’s one of my strongest memories of you…” Xander’s voice faltered for a moment, hand almost reaching out to touch Abel’s shoulder before halting, as though remembering who exactly it was, he had dared reach out to. “I’m not going to hurt you or anything dad. I just want you to tell me the truth. Indulge me.”
“I… I can’t.”
“You can’t? Aww that’s too bad… I really thought you’d remember it. After all, I always got a nice black eye before bedtime.” His hand caressed the familiar shape in his pocket.
“Try again.”
“Alex… I can’t. You don’t understand-“
“Understand what dad? All I’m asking for is a little nostalgia, a little family get together before I call it all quits.”
One dark brown eye, most known for flashing with humor, narrowed in distaste as Xander kneeled before the wilted older man.
“I thought I should say my goodbyes.”
The heavy brow that shaded the same orbs that he’d been cursed at birth with, crinkled in fear for a moment before slowly accepting the inevitable fate which awaited. From the moment he’d entered, Abel had known what would happen. It was the path that they’d all had to take during youth. He’d chosen to batter a wife and child rather than let his own nature reach full potential. Xander didn’t have that option.
Instead of continuing, Xander paused to examine his father’s, and by default his own heady brown eyes. Who ever said that they were the window to the soul was a blatant liar. Willow had always told him that they looked trustworthy, but staring back into the same sight, Xander could only hate it. Countless times he’d stood before a mirror wishing uselessly that he’d been anyone else’s son. Looked like anyone but Abel Harris. The blunter features of his father’s nose differed from Xander’s slightly, ending the mirror reflection. Where his dad remained bald, his mother’s floppy brown hair curved over his skull. Still the family resemblance remained.
And the similarities ran deeper than skin.
The self disgust which flooded through him as Xander regarded his physical future was enough to make him pull out the silencer. One sharp twist later and it was ready.
Through it all Abel remained silent.
Dragging the former epitome of terror to his feet, Xander forced the muzzle fo the gun under his father’s grizzled chin.
“You abandoned me. Throughout my life you never once tried to help me or give a fuck about my welfare. My whole life has been spent wondering how I could ever make you proud of me; make you want to have something to do with me. But I’ve realised that it doesn’t matter anymore. How can a fucking alcoholic give a damn about anything except their next high? It’s impossible-“
“But I am proud of you.”
Xander stared blankly at him for a moment, pure fury racing through his veins. Wrenching off the strap which hid his deformity, Xander forced his father to look at the tortured flesh.
“How can you be proud of this?!” he roared. “They ruined me FOREVER! I can never be normal again. Don’t you understand that?”
“They made you stronger!” retorted Abel, a cough lessening the force of his words. His gaze never faltered from the heavily scarred skin. “Before they touched you I was ashamed to call you mine. You were NOTHING but a weak little fuckup, telling jokes to hide the fact that you didn’t have the guts to be a man.”
“TO BE A MAN?” The incredulity in his voice was impossible to dispel. “Do you have any idea what I’ve done since I left here? I’ve killed dad, I’ve murdered innocent people because some guy higher on the chain said so. I’ve… I’ve tortured one man so badly that half his face was ripped apart. I’m going to destroy Willow’s life…” A strangled sound escaped his throat, half sob and half pure outrage. “I’m nothing but a MONSTER now.”
“Yeah and a damn good one. You’ve finally earned some respect. I’ve never been prouder of anyone else in my life Alex. This is who I always thought you should be. It’s what I wanted.”
The satisfaction of finally gaining his father’s approval was swept away by his horror of Abel’s acceptance. All he could feel was an odd sort of numbness spreading throughout his body, replacing all his anger. To want your son to become as dark as you were afraid to be; to have a child be tortured until that path was the only escape left and the only means of revenge, was more twisted than Angel had ever dared to be. It was more of a nightmare than he had ever imagined. A wave of ice raced over Xander at the satisfied grin which formed on his father’s craggy lips.
He wants this…
The gun in his hands had never felt heavier.
“Beg me not to kill you,” he whispered softly. Please don’t let me destroy myself.
“I can’t. In order for you to be completely damned there must be no chance of redemption. Can’t you see that Alex?” A cough grated in the quiet of the room as Abel’s bleary eyes became mirthful. “It’s the final step in your transformation from just another fool to being somebody.”
”No dad-“
“SHUT UP ALEX AND FUCKING LISTEN TO ME. You’ve always had that hate inside of you. All it needed was to be brought out. I always knew it and your mother wasn’t blind either, God love her. Behind all those jokes and that goofy expression you played around with it, the animosity and potential has always been present. I’ve just done you a favour by shaping it.”
Abel reached forward, one hand grasping firmly over his son’s trigger finger. Weakly Xander tried to release the gun, his lone eyesight blurring with tears as he moved back. However much he tried to deny his father’s words they were real. He was no different from him. Perhaps even worse.
Why not embrace it.
Unconsciously his hand tightened as rage once more flowed through him. All this time he’d been under the impression that he was changing into someone new and no longer trying to appease the twisted bastard which sat before him. Instead it had all been vain. Xander was merely a hateful construction of his environment. A monster.
His hand wavered on the gun until Abel rebuked him.
“Don’t be a fucking wimp Alex. You don’t have a choice anymore. Be what I’ve always wanted.”
Abel locked eyes with son who continued to weep brokenly and reached for the angry tortured scars. The touch was so light that Xander barely felt it.
“We can’t escape who we are son” he muttered softly, “so you might as well embrace it.”
Xander barely heard the man’s last words as the trigger was pulled.
In the dull bang which followed his father’s death, Xander could only watch in muted horror, sick thrills of satisfaction rushing through him as guilt settled deep inside.
Abel’s last plan had finally succeeded. The transformation was complete.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I apologise to everyone who's been waiting. I started uni and I haven't had a chance to breathe let alone write. This was done during my economics lecture... I will continue writing though. It just takes time.