Chapter 4

I had been sitting on my bed, not knowing what the hell I was supposed to do or even how to properly process what had just happened, for the past hour. I basically face-raped my own mother when she woke me up with a blowjob, and then she acted like it was the most normal thing in the fucking world!

Was Tim right after all? The day before, I had gone to great lengths to deny any possibility of my mother ever doing anything like this, just to be proven wrong within hours. And I still didn’t understand why she would do that. I mean, yes, Tim had phrased it in a way that did sound plausible, no question about that. But, at the end of the day, there is a difference between serving the person who beat you into submission over the years and latching onto any male authority figure you can find to then serve them as well.

But, if that was truly what had happened, it meant trouble on a whole new scale. If that was truly what I could expect from my mother, then what did that mean for her mental state? How far gone was she truly? Was there any way to come back from something like that?

As I continued recollecting the entirety of Tim’s warning, I became desperately worried, and my mind was invaded by an onslaught of intrusive thoughts.

“Didn’t he say something about the temptation of having totally unrestricted access to an ultimately submissive woman?” I thought.

That was obviously crap. She may be a woman, but she was primarily my mother!

“But, regardless of her being my mother, ... I can’t forget the feeling of her lips around my shaft. How it felt when the skin of my dick was pulled into that warm and wet mouth while being massaged by her sponge-like tongue before I slammed it into her throat for ultimate pleasure. And the way she just let it happen, completely disregarding her own discomfort and need for oxygen, just to make me happy. I might not want to admit it ... but I enjoyed every second of it.”

No! Of course it felt good. It was a blowjob! Blowjobs always feel good! I just didn’t know it was my mother doing the deed. As soon as I found out it was her, I was anything BUT turned on!

“But what if I just wasn’t turned on anymore because I experienced a mind-blowing orgasm, and not because I discovered that it was my mother who caused it?”

I sighed, shaking those thoughts out of my mind. I needed to get a shower, find Mom, and set some things straight. When I got out of bed, though, I noticed some of the gunk that had dripped off her chin onto the floor right next to the bed, and my eyes would no longer obey me as they remained fixated on that small whitish glob.

“God help me...” I whispered before finally getting a change of clothes and walked into the bathroom.

When I stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel to dry myself off, the pleasant scent of freshly baked bread floated into the bathroom. Though, as soon as I realized the implications of this, I quickly got dressed and rushed into the kitchen where she had just finished setting the table.

“Where’s all this coming from? I thought the kitchen was empty?” I asked while gesturing towards the food, worried that she left the apartment to go shopping by herself. Honestly, I didn’t really expect the senator to try anything drastic anymore but, if I was wrong and something happened while she was out by herself, there would be absolutely nothing I could do, and I probably wouldn’t even learn about it happening until it was too late to find her anymore.

“I found small packages of portioned-off dough pieces in the freezer and used them to make some bread. And I found jam, peanut butter, and Nutella in that cupboard,” she explained while pointing out a little cupboard above the small dinner table. “I couldn’t find any regular butter, though. I’m sorry.”

Of course, the guy had nothing but Nutella and PB&J in the house. Tell me you’re still a teenager without saying that you’re still a teenager. Tim must’ve forgotten to mention those, and I had neglected to check the freezer myself. With my most prevalent worry of the moment placated, I actually processed what Mom had just said, and, hearing her apology, decided that now would be a good time for my first attempt at addressing the most important issue. However, that turned out to be rather difficult to even start on.

“Why are you apologizing? I was the one who forgot to buy any groceries,” I asked in a mixture of curiosity and annoyance, mostly to buy myself some time.

“I should’ve thought about it when we went to the mall. It’s a good wife’s job to take care of the household,” she explained like it was common knowledge. Though, I almost choked on my food when my troubled mind heard the word ‘wife’ in combination with this being my (temporary) household.

“You’re not my wife!” I quickly clarified, very cautious of my tone to not make her think I was scolding her again. “And it’s not your job to take care of this household. I appreciate the help, but the most important thing is to keep you out of sight, in case Dick comes looking for us.”

“Oh,” was all she responded with. It didn’t sound like I just told her something she didn’t already know. It was more like she didn’t know what to make of it and was now a little lost.

“Maybe ... we should look for a therapist or something. Someone you could talk to about...”

“I don’t need a therapist,” she interrupted me with a conviction in her voice that took me aback. Especially since it was such a stark contrast to her earlier way of speaking.

“Mom. You woke me up with a blowjob this morning,” I reminded her in a futile attempt to get my point across. “This isn’t normal.”

“I’m not sick, Paul.” She shook her head while her body was completely rigid. “I just want to make you happy. I don’t need a therapist. I only need you.”

That made me blink.

“I’m not ... We can’t...” I stammered, desperately trying to find the right words while simultaneously trying to interpret her words. “You woke me up with a blowjob, for Christ’s sake!”

“Did you not enjoy it?” she asked with a hint of almost panic in her voice. “I can do better, Paul! I only want you to be happy!”

This didn’t bode well. Especially since I was still scared to death about what happened last night after I woke from that nightmare. The fact that I talked to her like Dick had always done still shook me to the core, and that she now seemingly panicked when thinking she couldn’t make me happy only intensified my fears.

“Mom, listen. I’m sorry about last night,” I said. Her eyes widened just the tiniest bit and, as I started wondering what that could mean, I decided to keep my eyes on my food as I continued with my apology. I didn’t want to screw this up because I kept questioning her behavior. “When you came into my bedroom, I ... Well, you already know I had a nightmare. It was about something that happened when we lived with him, and ... I don’t know. I guess it sent me back to a bad place, and you had to suffer through it. I’m really, really sorry.”

My eyes stayed glued to the piece of bread I was holding while we sat there in perfect silence for a good half minute, before I finally looked up and saw her still watching me attentively. Though, by now, the way she looked at me had changed.

It was no longer that neutral expression she wore while awaiting instructions. Nor was it the timid expression she showed when trying to please me. Instead, her eyes were full of sorrow as the trail of a single tear marked her left cheek. When she finally spoke, it was a lot softer and quieter than I was used to her.

“It is like I said this morning: I failed you. I’m a failure as a mother. You have nothing to apologize for, Paul.”

“Yes, I do!” I called out, unable to control my voice anymore. “Even if I was in a bad place, and even if the dream made me relive some of the things I’d rather forget, the things I said to you ... I sounded like him. And I...” I sighed. This was a lot harder than I thought. Especially since I wasn’t prepared to have that discussion already. “Just ... give me some time. I’ll work through this.”

She was still regarding me with the very same expression while her body had not moved a single inch during the entirety of our talk. However, she also didn’t react to my request at first. It took her a long while before she spoke. And, when she did, it was so quiet it was barely more than a simple breath.

“What ... was the dream about?”

I hesitated for a moment, unsure if telling her was the right choice. In the end, though, I knew I couldn’t just ignore her question without seeming like an ass, or make something up just to later confess my lie when we needed to have this talk in earnest.

“The orbital fracture,” I finally answered.

She stared some more, her body still perfectly unmoving. Though, her eyes had lost focus as if she was dwelling on memories. After merely a few seconds, she spoke with a quiver in her voice that accompanied the slight trembling on her bottom lip.

“M-May I ... return to my room to prepare for the day?”

“Sure.”

As soon as I closed my mouth, she calmly stood up and walked into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. When I followed, I could faintly hear the sounds of her muffled sobbing through the door. Yet again, the feelings that welled up inside me as I listened to my mother’s crying confused me.

On one hand, I felt bad for her, like a son normally should when his mother is in distress. I wanted to walk in there and comfort her like she had done for me before Dick entered our lives. On the other hand, there was also a part of me that felt ... satisfaction. The fact that she was now in this state, after I merely mentioned the main injury I suffered at that time, proved that she not only remembered the event itself but also her own part in it.

Yes, I knew I emotionally went full schizo when it came to Mom. One moment, I wanted to rebuild our relationship, the next, I went off on her for abandoning me. I just ... I didn’t know how to handle any of this.

“Maybe I should look into getting a shrink for myself to understand all this crap in my head...” I mumbled to myself as I turned from the door, but then suddenly stopped.

A psych eval! Why the hell didn’t I immediately think about this!? I basically sprinted back into the bedroom to grab my phone and dialed Breston’s number. After merely three rings, he picked up.

“Paul!” I heard his enthusiastic voice greet me. “What can I do for you?”

“Good morning, Breston. I was wondering ... What if we got a psych eval of Mom? Wouldn’t a psychologist’s assessment of her total subservience help her case? Surely, they would attest that she couldn’t betray her husband, even if she wanted to.”

I could hear paper shuffling before he spoke.

“The truth is, Paul, I already have a psychological profile of your mother.” That surprised me. “Over the six weeks of her incarceration, she met with a psychologist multiple times, and they did attest to her submissiveness. The problem, however, is that they reached some conclusions that are ... not entirely in our favor.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, at first they wanted to diagnose her with something they call a... ” More paper shuffling. “ ... a ‘Dependent Personality Disorder’, as she appeared to be troubled when asked to make everyday decisions for herself. It would also be an explanation for why she stayed in that abusive relationship for so long. We are lucky they looked further into this because, if they had diagnosed her with this, it would have meant that anyone could have easily manipulated her into stealing that data from her husband. Instead of helping us, it would have been additional ammunition for the prosecutor.”

“Okay?” I said, not understanding half of that psychology stuff. Then, however, I had a quick thought. “If they didn’t diagnose her with that ... dependence thing, did they come up with another explanation for why she stayed with the man?”

“No. They weren’t that interested in her relationship with the senator, their focus was on her mental state. But, if I had to guess, I would say she stayed for the usual reasons.”

“I’m sorry ... what?”

“Well, she had nowhere else to go. Apparently, after being married to him for the first two years that were relatively harmless in terms of abuse, she no longer had a bank account she could freely access, and no family left she could ask for help either.”

That information was completely new to me. I had asked her so many times to leave the guy, but not once did she give me any reason for why she refused. The only thing she always said was “I can’t, Paul”. Consequently, this is what had fueled my budding resentment towards her. I always thought the fact that she couldn’t leave him meant that being with him was more important to her than protecting me. And, even now, there were other things that did not line up with what I had just heard that negated Breston’s theory.

“But ... what about after I left?” I asked, perplexed. “She handed me four grand in cash, and I doubt those were a parting gift from Dick, so she clearly had funds!”

“Paul ... I can’t answer your questions. All I have is the psychologist’s report. But, according to that, your mother maintained throughout the sessions that she needed to be punished. And even the psychologist couldn’t discern whether this was some hint to an actual need for punishment on her part, like a ... sexual thing ... or some form of atonement for her inability to protect you.”

That absolutely floored me.

“That is the other reason I don’t plan on using this in her defense. If she feels guilt towards you, it could be construed as a motive for why she would hate and try to hurt her ex-husband. Though, I guess they would only play that angle as a last resort. After all, they would need to explain to the court exactly why she would have needed to protect you from the senator in the first place, and I don’t expect them to tell the world about all the times he beat his wife and adopted son.”

“Oh,” I said, still not sure what to make out of all this.

This information was in direct violation of my previous beliefs regarding Mom’s behavior. I never even considered this as a possibility. But, no matter how improbable it may sound, the longer I thought about it, the more I had to admit that either of those two options at least sounded like actual possibilities.

“Why wasn’t that in the documents you gave me?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.” I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle the idiot! “As I said, it won’t help us in any way.”

“Well...” I started, thinking it wasn’t a good idea to tell him about my surprise blowjob this morning, “it was worth a shot.”

“I’m sorry, Paul.” He actually sounded apologetic before suddenly continuing in a rather upbeat tone. “But try to look at it this way: Neither side has actual evidence in this case. There are no fingerprints on the safe the documents were taken from, no recordings from the office the safe stood in, nor anything else they could call proof that it was your mother who obtained these documents. It looks like it was her because of the cheating and the four million dollars that arrived in an account in her name, but there is no footage of her ever opening that account in person or an audio recording of her doing it remotely either. But now that we can prove the evidence of her affair has been falsified, half the work is done. And I already spoke with the DA about that.”

“Really?” I asked with renewed interest in my voice. “What did they say?”

“Well, the origin of those photos is still in question. Therefore, we can’t use this information to discredit the senator. However, they can no longer use them as proof of a long-term affair, meaning that, if she tells the judge that the senator ordered her to sleep with Mr. Carver, it will be a word-against-word situation. And I was assured that, if we choose to contest the family court’s ruling, another judge will be presiding over the case. One that is guaranteed to not have any ties to the senator, no matter how distant.”

“That’s a start,” I sighed. “Alright, then. I’ll call if anything else comes up.”

After hanging up the phone, I walked into the bedroom to get fully dressed while processing what I had just learned. As I was questioning my emotional state, my phone buzzed with a message from Tim, simply telling me to show up in his office at twelve p.m., which, given my current situation, suited me just fine.

Another hour later, Mom came out of her bedroom, freshly showered and perfectly dolled up. She even managed to style her hair so it would mostly resemble the look the hairdresser had created for her.

“You look good,” I said without thinking, causing her to pause for a fraction of a second before showing me an honest smile. “Let’s go shopping.”

I walked to the apartment door and put on my shoes, though when I was just about to grab the doorknob, I noticed Mom still standing in the middle of the living room.

“Is ... is it safe?” she asked in a quiet, insecure tone that made me immediately remember how she acted when released from jail.

“This is a gated apartment complex, the parking lot and the stores are under video surveillance, and we’re driving in an armored car. So, even if they tried to come after you, which I doubt, they’d have a hard time reaching you. Especially since I have no intention to just stand by and watch if something were to happen,” I said as I pulled my jacket open to reveal the Walther PPQ I carried.

That helped her.

“Why do you doubt they’d come after me?” she asked with a stronger voice than before.

“There are two possibilities. If Dick has us watched, he knows that too many people are involved by now,” I explained. “Trying to silence you now, after we found proof of him meddling with the photographic evidence, would absolutely cause a formal investigation into his affairs because he’d also have to silence your lawyer, me, Tim, my boss, and the DA. That’s not a smart move. His reputation would be ruined, his career would be over, and he knows it. In turn, if he doesn’t have us watched, he wouldn’t know about the progress we made in gathering evidence, and therefore wouldn’t have a reason to act in the first place. Either way, we should be good for now.”

She thought about my words for a moment but still didn’t seem particularly convinced. Regardless, she still nodded, took a deep breath, and followed me outside.

She stuck to my side the entire time, persistently refusing to look any stranger in the eyes, but somehow still managed to take control of the shopping itself. It was a stark contrast to her usual demeanor, as she didn’t ask me even once what I would like to eat. She apparently just created a meal plan in her head and stuck to it. Only when it came to toiletries that she may need for herself did she ask for permission to spend money on those things, while, at the same time, watching me attentively as I picked out my own preferred products.

After we arrived back at the apartment, I tried to help her store everything away, though she flat-out refused to let me do anything in the kitchen, explaining that it would be easier for her to ‘perform her duties’ if she got to organize the kitchen herself.

I was still on the fence about whether or not I liked the way she spoke. Though, after checking my watch, I understood that I didn’t have time to think about it further. I had to get on my way to meet with Tim.

“Alright,” I said louder than necessary so she knew I needed her attention. “I’ll have to go to the office real quick. I won’t be long.”

The news of being left behind did not please her, as I saw her insecure and scared expression return with a vengeance. However, after what happened this morning, I needed a private conversation with Tim. So, I decided to try another way to ease her mind and led her into my bedroom.

“You see these monitors?” I pointed at the surveillance station on the desk. “They show my apartment.” Hearing this, she looked at me confused, and it took me a moment to understand why. “Oh! Right! I forgot to tell you; this isn’t my apartment. I’m usually on the floor above. We decided to switch in case someone tried to surprise us. So, even if we’re wrong and they are indeed coming, they’d go there instead of coming here.”

She thought about my words for a moment, before pulling out a chair and sitting in front of the monitors to watch the live feed. After half a minute, her body relaxed a little and she seemed composed enough for me to leave. On a whim, I gave her shoulder a fugitive squeeze and kissed the top of her head before turning towards the door, leaving her with a stunned expression.

Arriving at the office, I made my way into Tim’s basement, where he was already waiting for me.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” I asked with an accusing look as I stepped into the room.

“Meh,” he waved me off without diverting his attention from the computer monitor. “I’m ditching Shop. I’ll just pay one of them Mexican guys who did our home renovations to build that damn clock for me. They’re a lot better at this than I am anyways and, since I’m already taking my college courses, I really don’t care about making the curve in my high school finals.” That made me chuckle. “We got more important things to discuss.”

“As much as I disagree, given that I dropped out prematurely and now have to make do with my GED, I also need to talk with you. So, I will spare you the lecture ... this time.”

“Oh? Do tell.” He finally raised his head to actually look at me.

“Something ... happened this morning. With Mom,” I said carefully, and, curiously, Tim immediately got an uncomfortable look on his face.

“Did she blow you in your sleep?” he asked, flooring me.

“How the hell...?”

He just nodded as he got out of his chair, then extended his hand towards the seating area at the other end of the room. We both sat down, opposite each other, and I waited for him to explain.

“I have to apologize. I think,...” he started while rubbing the back of his head, “ ... my plan to take Ava with us, so you could see her behavior for yourself, kinda ... had an unexpected component.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well ... While we had our little talk in the clothing store, it would seem like ... apparently ... the girls decided to have their own talk with each other while being out of earshot. And, well ... Ava kinda ... uh ... gave your mom some pointers.”

My eyebrows started on a slow but steady journey towards my hairline.

“Pointers on what, exactly?”

“On ... how she managed to improve her relationship with ... me.”

For a few moments, the room was completely silent.

“Tim?” I started while pinching the bridge of my nose. “Did you just admit to sleeping with your own sister?”

“Depends,” he said VERY carefully.

“On?”

“Whether or not you liked the blowjob you got this morning.”

And another moment of silence.

“I’m not going to comment on that.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” he said before all the embarrassment vanished from his demeanor and he fixed me with a rather serious look. “Paul, you and Bill are the only people, outside my family, that know what my home life looked like before I was finally old enough to get my own apartment. Bill knows even more than you since he, unfortunately, witnessed some of it in person. When he gave me this job, I was lonely, depressed, and borderline suicidal.”

We had never spoken about that but, now that he admitted it so freely, I grew rather concerned. Especially about the fact that I hadn’t noticed how bad it really was for him. But he continued before I had a chance to address that.

“My point is that, after I ultimately managed to clean up most of that mess my family created, and Ava fixated on me as the ‘new alpha male in her life’ or some shit, she was determined to ... offset some of the pain she, and the family, had caused me.”

“You mean she initiated this?” I asked in clear disbelief. “Ava, the hot college chic, seduced you, her nerdy little brother who’s still a senior in high school?”

“Okay, first of all, fuck you,” he said with an annoyed tone that, somehow, made me smirk despite the dire topic. “Second, the fuck did you think I meant when I warned you about temptations and all that crap!?” he called out in a defiant tone. “I mean, have you SEEN the woman? There’s a reason why she’s been captain of the cheer squad for her last two high school years, and it certainly wasn’t her uncanny ability to not use punctuation while texting!”

“Fine, fine!” I conceded. “So ... how did you get her to ... you know ... how she is today? I mean, when I look at my mother, she seems just too far gone. But Ava? I had no idea she was the same way!”

That question caused him to release a rather heavy sigh before his expression turned quite somber.

“Well, now you don’t see it. But a few months ago ... Dear old Dad and his Golden Boy had worked her over real good. They basically wanted to turn her into some kind of sex puppet they could use however they wanted after they realized that she enjoys being dominated in bed.”

“I mean ... have you ever thought about getting her into therapy?” I asked, not believing he would rather start a sexual relationship with one of his tormentors than simply calling a shrink. Curiously, it caused him to scoff.

“Course I did. Whole lotta good that got me,” he chuckled.

“What do you mean?”

“I already told you in the clothing store that Dad and his favored son worked on Ava for almost two years before I finally got the opportunity to piss into their collective soup bowl. By then, it took me almost a whole damn month of constantly pointing out how fucked up all of that is before Ava was willing to even consider the possibility of me being right. But I finally got her to talk to a therapist. And, guess what?”

“What?”

“After the therapist spoke with Ava, learned that she was fixated on me, and even agreed with my assessment about the need to separate Ava from the rest of the family ... she asked me to let Ava move in with me. The great idea was for me to give Ava what she needed. Use her in bed, with restrictions of course, but build up her confidence and self-worth in every other aspect.”

There was another moment of silence.

“The therapist told you to dominate your sister,” I deadpanned, not believing a word he said.

“Believe it or not, but yes. Apparently, we can order them to speak with a therapist. But we can’t order them to actually work with the therapist. And there’s shit-all therapists can do when the patient doesn’t want to work with them.”

“Huh. I got a taste of that when I suggested a therapist to Mom,” I said, remembering how adamant she was about not being sick and not needing help.

“I can imagine,” he nodded. “Look, here’s the deal: They actually aren’t sick. There’s nothing wrong with their heads. They’ve been conditioned! If you just force them to break their conditioning, they ... shut down. It doesn’t work that way. So ... It’s a process, not a switch you could flick. They need to realize something is wrong, and then they need to want to work on it themselves.”

“Oh! So, THAT’S why you’ve been dragging her into the company gym to teach her self-defense?” I remembered how he asked Bill for permission to do this. Now it made a lot more sense.

“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t have been enough to just not be another dominating asshole in her life. Even asking her what we should eat for dinner or what movie we should watch in the evenings was a real challenge, and that was after she started talking with the therapist. It was always ‘Whatever you want to eat, Tim’ and ‘I’m fine with whatever you want to watch, Tim’. It was incredibly frustrating. So, in my mind, I thought if she learned how to properly cripple a guy who tries to take advantage of her, it could, like, counteract that conditioning. She’d always know that she’s the one letting him dominate her. She could actually choose to surrender herself. Like, they only have as much power over her as she allows them to have. It seems to work so far.”

I shuddered a little when he casually mentioned the word ‘cripple’. The self-defense techniques we practice at the firm aren’t exactly suitable to be featured in TV reports. Though, what he told me sounded like it would make sense.

“Do you think it could work for Mom the same way?”

For a good minute, he looked like he was deep in thought.

“I don’t know,” he finally said in a careful tone. “Is she at the point where she understands that her subservience isn’t exactly healthy?” I shook my head, remembering my conversation with her from that morning. “Then you’ll need to find a way to make her understand.”

I nodded, knowing he was right. This was the essential problem I had to face. Until she realized that serving her own son in every way was weird and wanted to change herself, nothing could help. What Tim told me sounded solid so far.