Christian
He couldn’t shake the feeling that disaster was coming. A week ago, someone he’d taken to be a madman at first had attacked him outside their front door. The older guy, who packed some mean punches, had worked him over. Even now, his ribs and stomach were sore. Although the doctor said his jaw wasn’t broken, Christian wasn’t so sure. He’d barely eaten anything for several days, the pain was so bad.
Anoushka had distracted Dad when he asked about his condition. He’d been suspicious but didn’t dig beyond Christian’s explanation that he’d gotten into a fight over a girl. What puzzled Christian was that the man, who was vaguely familiar, hadn’t said a word while he smashed both fists into his upper body. Christian had landed two blows and thought he was going to die when the stranger stared him in the eyes and squeezed his neck.
His stepmother’s screams brought the attacker to his senses. Tears welled in the man’s eyes and snot dripped from his nostril when he released Christian, who collapsed on the ceramic tiles out front. With a trembling finger, he pointed at Christian. “I hope you rot in prison for what you did.”
Christian didn’t know what he meant. Since then, no new texts had come in, but as he came and went from the university campus, he kept his guard up. He was tired of being reminded by his friends that his days of playing football were over. Sure, he didn’t miss the grueling hours at training, but he needed something else to take the edge off some of his energy.
He paced his room, wanting to punch someone. If he had to make a choice, Anoushka would do. But that wasn’t happening any time soon. The woman could not be satisfied, and he wondered what Dad was doing in the bedroom if she had to come knocking on his door this often. He now feared leaving his room when Dad and Anoushka were in the house at the same time. Her sly looks and knowing smile gave him the jitters. She was reckless, and Christian didn’t want to pay the price for her stupidity. He’d tried, but couldn’t think his way out of this current mess.
His phone pinged, and he picked it up. Another notification from his study group. They did more joking around than anything else. He sucked his teeth and headed to the bathroom. After relieving himself, he sank in the chair, prepared to continue with his finance assignment. The phone pinged several times, and he was tempted to ignore it. These days, he felt it was his master. Whenever it made a sound, he jumped, thinking the worst. He made a slow circle with his head then sighed as he picked up the Samsung.
Agony knifed him in the belly as a video downloaded. The images on the screen made his throat close and his stomach rumble. He looked up at the webcam on the computer, shaking his head. It wasn’t possible. But the evidence was in his hand.
Someone had recorded him and Anoushka. He spun toward the bed, thinking how foolish he’d been. Blake, a classmate and ever a conspiracy theorist, warned that “Big Brother” was always watching. His remedy was using masking tape to block his laptop camera.
Nauseous with anxiety, Christian watched the action unfolding on his phone. The worst of what they’d done was spliced together in a raunchy thirty-second display. If he didn’t know different, Christian would think he was watching porn. If his father found out, he’d be worse than dead. The only advantage he could think of was that Dad had nothing to do with social media. According to him, that kind of thing was for people who had nothing better to do with their time. He hired people to take care of marketing and promotion and stayed away from everything except handling his email and attending online conferences.
Christian swallowed hard as his stomach dropped. During his summer internship, he’d also learned that those same workers his father hired promoted the company name and scoured the internet for anything related to the Skyers name and business. One hashtag could bring everything tumbling down.
Praying and wearing out the bedside carpet didn’t help. In less than a half-hour, his phone blew up. If he believed what his friends were telling him, the reel had gone viral. His stomach gurled and a sharp pain ripped through his belly. He raced into the bathroom and dropped his sweats mere seconds before his bowels exploded.
Who would let him down this way?
He was gasping and sweating when the bedroom door slammed back on its hinges. The tap-tap-tap of Anoushka’s heels approached before he could move.
She stood in the doorway, her smooth forehead wrinkled and one hand resting on her hip. With the other, she covered her nose. “Disgusting. What’s wrong with you?”
“Get out,” he gasped. “Just fall back for a minute.”
Grimacing, she turned away and pulled the handle until the lock clicked.
He swiped the sweat from his forehead, cleaned himself, and washed his hands. In the mirror, he barely recognized the washed-out skin and large eyes that stared back at him.
Anoushka waited by the desk when he walked back into the bedroom and dropped on the side of the bed. He stared at the floor, wishing she’d disappeared. It was stupid to think he could ride out her foolishness. What he should have done was to tell Dad the first time she attacked him. Now, no matter which way he analyzed it, this whole scenario looked bad.
“What d’you want now?” he mumbled and raised his head. “Dad will be home soon.”
“I thought you were smart, but I guess not.” She pulled in a breath and folded her arms. “You couldn’t help yourself, you had to be a showoff.”
Running one hand over his hair, Christian sat up. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you mean that video, I didn’t do it. Why would I?”
Her lips twisted as she spat, “So you could embarrass me and your father.”
“What would I gain, huh? I have everything to lose.”
A smile spread over her face. “I’m glad you recognize that. You’re not so stupid after all. You better hope your father doesn’t find out about this.”
He didn’t bother to tell her it was only a matter of time. The poison from the internet had a way of spreading itself everywhere and ruining everything. Just like that recording of him and Sancia that wouldn’t stay gone. Now, it even haunted his sleep.
“Christian!”
The thunder echoing through his father’s voice made him want to rush to the toilet again, but he couldn’t make his muscles work. He was as weak as a sick baby.
“Now, you’ll get what you deserve for forcing me to do all of those things,” Anoushka yelled.
“What?” Christian glared at her. “Don’t think you’re going to put this on me.”
By the time Dad appeared, Anoushka was deep in drama queen mode. She turned a tearful face toward Radcliff Skyers, who barely glanced her way.
He walked into the room past Anoushka. His face twitched as he raked Christian with a hostile gaze.
When the blow came, it took Christian by surprise. His head twisted to one side, and the next hit spun his neck in the other direction. Then his father’s fist landed square on his forehead, throwing him to the floor. Blinded by the pain radiating through his face, Christian curled into a ball.
His father shouted swear words while aiming several kicks to his butt and tailbone. In the background, Anoushka’s screams echoed around the room. He blacked out for a moment, and when he came to, Dad’s foot connected with his forehead, putting him out again. The silence didn’t last long. Anoushka’s yodeling woke him that second time. When he attempted to pull himself to a sitting position, Dad stomped on his fingers and ground them into the carpet.
A trickle of urine warmed Christian’s boxers as his knuckles cracked and burned.
Dad leaned in, pressing harder with his Oxfords.
Christian inhaled the whiskey on his breath, but didn’t cry out. He was beyond the pain. Anoushka had ruined everything, just like he knew she would.
With a rough fist, Dad lifted his chin. “When I come back downstairs, you’d better be gone. You’re dead to me.”