Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

What Is and What Should Never Be	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 1336 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own 21JS or the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Upon entering the house, Aaron McQuaid shoved his son roughly towards the stairs. “Get up there,” he snarled, “and stay in your room.”

Dragging his feet, Tom slowly climbed the threadbare steps. The despair he felt was all consuming, what hope did he have now? He briefly considered saying something to his English teacher but he quickly pushed the thought away. If the school notified the authorities, Tom knew that a placement into care would be inevitable and when Doug’s sentence was up, they would have no chance of being together. He just had to find a way to stick it out for the six months his brother was in custody.

Sighing heavily, he threw his school bag onto the floor. The book Mr. Fuller had given him fell out and Tom felt more tears prick against his eyes. Bending down, he picked up the worn tome and opened it to a random page. The words swam in front of him as his grief intensified. His new teacher had been so kind and understanding, traits that were unfamiliar to Tom. He gently trailed his fingers over the page as if to gain strength from the words he could not read. His body stiffened as he heard the familiar creaking of the stairs behind him. His father was coming.

When Aaron walked into the bedroom and saw Tom holding a book, he snorted loudly. “What the hell are you doing with a book boy? You’re too damn stupid to read.” His tone was derisive, causing Tom to let the book slip from his fingers and onto the floor.

“There’s gonna be some new rules in this house now that your meddling brother is out of the way,” McQuaid senior sneered, as he slowly and deliberately, pulled his belt free from the loops on his jeans. “Now, lesson number one. You will do what I say when I say, is that clear?”

Tom nodded, his wide eyes never leaving the belt which his father now held in his hand.

The next word out of his father’s mouth was a single command. “Strip.”

Shaking uncontrollably, Tom pulled the bandanna from his head. He slowly removed his torn denim waistcoat and his shirt. He hesitated for a moment before pulling his t-shirt over his head, revealing half-healed welts and bruising on his back. He stood with his eyes closed, holding his breath and praying that a beating was all he would receive.

“Everything,” his father instructed, his voice heavy with arousal.

“Dad, please,” Tom begged, his eyes pleading with his father. “I’ll be good, I promise, just don’t do that, okay? I’ll take the beating, just don’t–“

Tom felt a resounding sting on his cheek as his father backhanded him across the face. “Lesson number two, do… not… EVER! talk back to me.” Aaron spat, his face twisted in anger.

Choking back a sob, Tom kicked off his boots, all the while feeling his father’s hot gaze upon him. Pulling off his socks, he slowly unbuttoned his jeans and pulling down the zipper, he let the fabric fall to the floor. Stepping out of his denims, he felt vulnerable dressed only in his boxers. He saw his father lick his lips and he felt bile rise in his throat. As his father’s eyes narrowed in warning, Tom hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them off.

“Turn around,” Aaron ordered, the belt in his hand twitching in anticipation.

Tom did as he was told. Turning his back to his father, he clenched his fists as he waited for the excruciating pain of the belt cutting through his tender skin.

THWACK! The belt bit deep into his back, opening up an old wound. As it hit for a second time, Tom felt a warm trickle of blood run down his back as he began to bleed. The third strike made him cry out, the pain almost too much to bear.

Tom’s suffering only managed to fuel Aaron’s sadistic pleasure. As the whipping intensified, he yelled abuse at his youngest son, “YOU THINK YOU CAN DEFY ME?” THWACK! “YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A…” THWACK! “WORTHLESS…” THWACK! “PIECE OF…” THWACK! “SHIT!” THWACK!

Tom’s vision swam and he staggered on his feet. His father’s voice sounded distant, the words barely audible. Sweat beaded on his forehead as his knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor in a faint. As he slowly regained consciousness, he felt a heaviness pushing against his body. As realization hit, he began to panic and he frantically struggled against the rape his father was committing.

“Stop it,” his father growled, as he thrust deep into his resisting son, his fingers tangled cruelly in Tom’s hair, “I’m… almost… done… FUUCK!” As his orgasm hit Aaron’s body shuddered against Tom’s. Spent, he collapsed heavily onto his son, enjoying the aftermath of his release. After several minutes, he stood up and pulling up his trousers, he walked to the door. Turning back, he stared dispassionately at his broken and bloody son who lay motionless on the floor. “Get cleaned up, you look like shit,” he muttered before leaving the room.

Moaning in pain, Tom crawled across the room and pulled himself onto the bed. Despite the discomfort, he drew his legs up to his chest and curled protectively into the fetal position as tears silently coursed down his cheeks. He wanted Doug’s comfort more than anything in the world, he had never had to suffer alone before and it was soul destroying knowing that for the next six months, this was how it was to be. As his tears slowly subsided, he wiped his nose with the back of his hand and sat up. Blood and semen had stained his sheets, making him feel sick. He carefully stood up, using the nightstand as support. Wrapping the ruined sheet around him, he shuffled from his room and down the hallway to the bathroom. Locking the door, he slowly moved to the full-length mirror and studied his injuries. His right cheek was bright red from his father’s hand. Turning around, he peered over his shoulder. Large, red, bleeding welts covered his back and buttocks, several of the cuts so deep that small strips of skin hung from the wounds. Once again vomit rose in his throat but he quickly swallowed it down. Hobbling over to the shower, he turned the hot faucet on full and added just a small amount of cold to the mix. Shrugging off the bloodied sheet, he stepped into the steaming shower, crying out as the heat hit his damaged skin. Placing his palms against the tiled wall, he bowed his head and allowed the scalding water to run over his aching body. His mind shut off completely as the therapeutic water cleansed his wounds and washed away his humiliation. Weariness flooded through his body and he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and never wake up. For a fraction of a second, his mind turned to suicide. But as quickly as it came, the thought was gone. He could never do that to Doug.

Turning off the faucets, he exited the cubical. Carefully dabbing at his body, the towel came away bloody. With a sigh, he dried off as best he could and wrapping the bed sheet around him, he walked back to his bedroom. Sitting on the bed, he looked at the clock. It was a little after midday. As if suddenly acknowledging the fact, his stomach growled with hunger. His last meal had been the sandwich Doug had swiped the day before. Moving carefully, he dressed in t-shirt and jeans. Leaving his room, he tiptoed to the edge of the stairs. Pausing, he could hear the television and his father’s occasional laugh as he watched some lowbrow comedy. Treading carefully to avoid any squeaky floorboards, he stole silently into his father’s bedroom. His eyes darted back and forth until they finally settled on what he was looking for. Picking up Aaron’s wallet, he opened it and took out every dollar inside. He would get a beating for sure but he would probably get one anyway so in Tom’s mind it was worth it. Putting the empty wallet back on the nightstand he walked back to his room and closed the door. His plan had been to climb out of the window and walk into town to get something to eat. But as he stared at the bills in his hand, another thought formed in his mind. He had enough money for a bus ticket.

As adrenaline ran through his body, his pain magically faded. Moving quickly, he grabbed a bag and began throwing clothes and various necessities into the shabby holdall. Sneaking back to the bathroom, he took his toothbrush, toothpaste and a comb from the cabinet. Re-entering his room, he picked up a photo frame containing a photo of he and Doug and threw it into his bag. Casting his eye around to see if he could spy anything he needed, his gaze landed on Catcher in the Rye and reaching forward, he picked up the battered book. Smiling, he placed it on top of the frame and closed the bag’s zipper.

Desperate to get going, he hurriedly put on his shirt, denim waistcoat, socks and boots. Lastly, he tied his signature bandanna around his head. Picking up his bag, he walked over to his open window. Checking that no one was watching, he dropped the bag onto the ground. It hit with a thud and he held his breath as his ears strained to hear any noise from downstairs. After several minutes, he climbed onto the window ledge and leaning forward he took hold of a large branch that hung close to his bedroom. With a grunt, he hoisted himself onto the broad bough. Being lithe was an advantage and he made light work of scrambling down the gnarled elm. Snatching his bag, his head snapped left and right and certain that he had not been seen, he sprinted down the road and towards what he hoped would be his freedom.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

What Is and What Should Never Be