Chapter 9

I nod and wonder what happened to my son. How did I ever raise anyone this wicked. My fingers tremble as I reach back and I don’t think I’ve got time to do this without pulling hairs out. A few hairs yanks against my scalp as I search his eyes for something to remind me of him, but the emotions he has, even those deep within, are all dark.

The tie falls from my fingers and I don’t know where it went. His hands reach out and I flinch as he runs them across my scalp. Strands cross my forehead and fall close to my eyes and he’s continuing to stare at my head.

He stands back and stares at me for several seconds. “That’s better. You look more like a whore this way. Good thing for you, mom. No ponytail for me to grab hold of. Take your sweatshirt off.”

My hands lower and start to pull up as I plead with him. “Please, don’t make me do this.”

His grin fades to a smile. “Tell you what. I’ll give you a choice. Sweatshirt or sweat pants, mom.” I hesitate and there’s no smile on his face. “Fine. I’ll decide for you. Take them both off. You keep delaying and you’ll keep losing things to wear.”

I can’t move and all I can do is feel my fingers tremble against my skin. My entire body starts to shake and he’s getting angrier by the second. He kneels down and starts to press his hands between my sweats and ankles. The unshaven hairs stand across my body and just want this to be over with. Scream, yell, curse, I want to do all three, but my voice is sealed tightly within my constricting throat.

His voice drifts up to me with the sound of wicked intent. “Looks like someone forgot to shave. That’s alright, mom. It’ll be fun to watch, so don’t go running off when I’m in the shower.”

I want to kick him, but all I can do is sit here and allow my sick son to have his fun at my expense. His hands press up a little more, but the base is too tight for him to get much further. Why is this happening to me, God? What did I ever do to deserve this monster for a son? Whatever it is, God, forgive me and release me from the evil.

He towers over me and I can still feel his hands on my ankles. His eyes show menace and I fear what he’s going to do over my inability to do anything. Hanson grins and sends icy chills throughout my body. My son, since I can’t say this is anyone else other than my son, and presses his hands behind my already sore head.

Without a word, he yanks me forward and I fall to my knees and feel the couch prevent any means of escape. I’m trapped and forced to look at the bulge in his sweats and wet spot to show me just how excited my perverted son is.

My head’s yanked back hard and tears that had been lost to me return in a furry. “Drop my sweat pants and you’ll only have to use your hands. If I have to do it, I’m going to fuck your mouth. What’s it going to be, mom?”