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Revelations	By : kattanon Category: S through Z > The Shield Views: 1041 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Shield, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Disclaimer: - I don�t own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

WARNINGS: - The material contained in this chapter maybe be upsetting to some readers. It will contain depictions of child abuse, which are verbal, physical and sexual. If you do not wish to read such material please skip over this chapter. If you read it and find yourself offended � well don�t say I didn�t warn you.

Revelations Chapter 3
Holland froze when he heard his father�s footsteps stop outside his bedroom door. His mind going blank in his panic, body wound up as tightly as a spring as he clutched his blanket so hard it hurt his fingers. Despite his tension and fear Holland tried to relax his body, even out his breathing, trying to feign sleep. He nearly whimpered when he heard the door to his room open, but years of practice at pretending to be asleep, in the hope that he�d be spared, meant he managed to keep it firmly inside.
Holland waited, feeling his father�s eyes on him, then,
"Holland�Holland wake up! Holland!"
All his hope drained out of him. All his silly dreams that maybe things would be different shattered as he listened to the tone of his father�s voice. Holland felt himself switching over to auto-pilot, as he began to try and distance himself, in his mind, from what he knew his body was about to endurP>
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Knowing that to keep his father waiting only made things worse Hollturnturned over to face him, eyes blinking at the light from the landing that flooded his room.
His father was standing in his doorway, tall and imposing. He was still wearing his tuxedo from his important dinner, and Holland wrinkled his nose a little at the smell of cigars and alcohol that his father carried clinging to him.
"Get out of bed and get to my room." His father told him.
Unable to stop himself Holland pleaded,
"Please dad�"
"Shut up and do as you�re told boy�Don�t make me have to come over there and drag you."
The threat was implicit in his father�s tone, and Holland knew from experience what punishment he�d face if he did make his father have to go to the trouble of fetching him himself. So forcing himself to move Holland got out of bed and stumbled past his father, and walked to his bedroom. He walked a few feet into the room, and then stopped and turned around to face him.
Upon entering his room Holland�s father reached up and flicked on the light, shutting the door behind him. Not sparing his son a glance he pulled off his black jacket and chucked it onto a chair that stood to one side of the closed door. His black bow tie followed and he undid the first three buttons of his white dress shirt. Holland watched his father�s every move. His face was flushed and Holland knew he�d been drinking. Suddenly his father turned and looked at him, the cold, hard look in his eyes intimidating, indicating he was in a bad mood. Holland couldn�t stop himself from flinching back and he braced himself as best he could for the worst.
For a long time his father just stared at him, while Holland tried to resist the urge to fidget and squirm under the scrutiny. When he finally spoke the sound of his voice made Holland jump,
"I�ve just had to spend an hour listening to that no talent, shit for brains asshole David Vincent sympathize with me about having a suicidal son. That fucking piece of crap feeling sorry for me�Do you know how humiliating that was�Well do you?"
Holland could feel his fear rising in his chest as he stammered out,
"I�m s�sorry sir�I�I didn�t mean�"
He didn�t get any further. For a big man his father could move quickly when he wanted to, and he closed the gap between them and backhanded Holland across the face, knocking him to the floor, before Holland even realised what was happening.
Holland knew from bitter experience that once his father had knocked him down the wisest and safest course of action was to stay down. So he stayed in a heap at his father�s feet staring at the carpet, cursing himself for not being able to stop the tears from rolling down his face.
Holland�s left cheek stung and throbbed, he knew that a bruise was already forming. With a sound that reminded Holland of an animal�s growl his father reached down for him. He couldn�t stop himself from crying out as one of his father�s hands grasped his hair, and the other gripped his left shoulder. The fingers on his shoulder dug in feeling as if they were burrowing through the flesh to the bone underneath, while those entwined in his hair pulled so hard he felt sure his father�s hand would come away with clumps of his scalp. As his father straightened up Holland had no choice but to follow, as he was draggack ack to his feet. He had his eyes squeezed shut against the pain, buuld uld feel the tears leaking out from beneath his lids. His father yanked his head to the right, painfully wrenching his neck. Holland could feel his father�s breath warm and panting on his cheek,
"Open your eyes." He snarled.
Holland obeyed and whimpered at the look of lust in his father�s face. He tried to pull his head away, but his father�s grip in his hair was too strong. His father stared at him for a moment, and then leant forward his mouth brushing against Holland�s ear making him shiver as he whispered,
"I love watching you cry�When you cry you look even more like her."
Unable to contain his fear Holland began to sob when he felt his father�s tongue on his cheek licking the tears from his face.
His father groaned as he did so, letting his hair go, but grabbing his other shoulder. Holland felt himself whirled around and pushed backwards until his back slammed into the closed bedroom door. The air whooshed out of his lungs, and the back of his head connected with the heavy wooden door with a crack that made his stomach roll with nausea, and his vision momentarily darken at the edges.
Holland found himself pinned to the door by the weight of his father�s body pressed against him. The heat of it, the weight of it suffocating. On instinct Holland raised his hands and tried to push him off. Laughing at his efforts his father grabbed both of Holland�s wrists in one large hand and pulled them up above his head pressing them against the door.
Then his father did something he�d never done before; he lowered his head and kissed Holland on the mouth. Holland stiffened in shock at the feel of his father�s mouth covering his, his father�s lips demanding, bruising. At the first touch he�d gasped in surprise and his father had taken the opportunity to thrust his tongue into his mouth. The wet, hot, slightly slick feel of it disgusting him as it plundered his mouth, the taste of cigar ash and stale whiskey souring his own tongue. The grip his father had on his wrists tightened, Holland was sure he could feel the bones grinding painfully together, his sob of pain swallowed up by that pillaging mouth, as was his groan of fear when he felt his father grind his erection against his stomach.
As he felt the insistent tongue in his mouth, and heard his father moan with pleasure Holland couldn�t help the thought that leapt unbidden into his mind that this was his first kiss, and he felt another little part of his soul die inside him.
His father�s right hand began to fumble at the waistband of Holland�s pyjama bottoms, reaching down inside touching him. However, this too was different to how it usually was. His father�s touches were usually rough and painful, but this hand that touched him was gentle and caressing. Holland�s mind whirled in confusion and fear. Something was different, and that thought terrified him.
The bruising mouth at last left his and he gulped oxygen into his deprived lungs. Holland looked up into his father�s face as he smiled coldly down at him and said,
"You look just like her�there�s nothing of me in you at all. That�s why you�re a slut just like she was. You make me do this Holland�tempt me, flirt with me�you always have. But you like to play the victim just like she did. Whining melodramatics�trying to leave me like she tried to. Well now I�m gonna show you what you are�what you�re good for. I�m gonna show you what a slut you are�I�m gonna make you enjoy it."
His father�s mouth then pressed against his again, but this time gentler, less urgent and forceful. The hand that touched his body began to move again, stroking and gently squeezing. To his absolute horror and disbelief Holland felt himself beginning to respond to the unwanted caresses. His father laughed into his mouth as he felt it too. Once more pulling his mouth from Holland�s his father let his wrists go and removed his hand from his pyjamas. He grabbed the bottom of Holland�s tee shirt and quickly pulled it off over his head, then he pushed the stunned boy over to the bed and pushed him down onto his back.
His father�s eyes never left his, and his sneering half smile never faded as he quickly undressed. In fact Holland thought that that sneer stayed on his father�s face for the next hour. The hour that his father did indeed prove to Holland that he was a slut. Holland tried not too, he knew this was wrong, sick, perverted, he knew he didn�t want this, the wailing cry of pain and disgust in his head proved that, but his body betrayed him. His father�s touches were like nothing he�d experienced before. He was used to pain and brutality, but instead his father did things to him that made him squirm and moan. Eventually despite his mind reing ing in horror, and despite the ragged cry of "No" that left his lips, he came, the hot liquid from his own body feeling as if it scalded his skin as it spattered against his stomach. His own semen feeling more disgusting to him than his father�s did when it also burned against his flesh.
He lay there unmoving while his father lay panting next to him. Then he felt the bed move as his father sat up and he cried out when his father�s foot suddenly connected with his side, not in a kick but a shove, and Holland found himself landing in a heap on the floor as he was pushed off the bed. He sat up pulling his knees to his chest and looked up at his tormentor.
"Yep, a little whore just like your mother. How do you feel Holland, huh? Ashamed, humiliated�well now you know how I felt this evening. How I felt because of you and your selfishness and stupidity. Don�t ever fucking humiliate me again boy or I make you wish you had died. Now go away�you disgust meot;
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- 3
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