Blessing Avenue: Chapter 3 (Patreon)

"Israel," my Dad said, his back turned to me. He was looking at that stuffed bear, no doubt remembering his "good old days" or fuming over whatever he and Mom were fighting about. It was hard to tell, and when he turned around to face me, the placid look on his plain features didn't tell me squat.

"What's up, Dad?" I wanted to get this over with fast, like yesterday kind of fast. The longer I stuck around here, the greater my chances were of getting caught up in their fight. I had enough to worry about—I might be failing Algebra II, for all the good it does me.

"I've noticed an increase in your nocturnal activities." Leave it to my Dad and his fancy talk to make going out at night sound like a criminal activity.

"I've been doing a lot of patrolling, yeah. So?"

"Don't get uppity with me, Israel. It isn't your place to patrol. That's for your mother and sister to do."

Good old traditionalist Dad; always indulging in the stereotypes. I'm surprised he didn't name me after him. I would have been Nick Kevinson the second and I'd have hated my life forever.

"Is that why you and Mom are fighting, because I'm doing women's work?"

Dad's placid look warmed up a few degrees into a frown. I could see the lines creasing in his forehead. "What did she tell you?"

"She didn't. I just know these things." I wanted to add that if he actually got his head out of his butt, he'd notice too. But I didn't. I wanted to really badly, but he was still my Dad, and my disrespect has limits towards my family. Besides, the more sass I gave him, the longer he'd lecture.

"You're meant for better things than the grunt work, son. You're growing up to be a man, and the men have certain obligations in this family. It is our duty to keep the lineage intact; to keep it strong."

It's times like these I wish I could just confess my sexuality to my family. Just to see my Dad lose it, but it's like I said, my disrespect towards my family has limits. So I kept my preferences hidden. The bodybuilding magazines were for the exercises, not to fuel my wet dreams. The videos of Arnold and Jet Li were because I liked their acting ability. Even I wouldn't believe that one, but my folks are the masters of living in their own little world, and one of their own being gay does not fit in said world. I hated to keep my sexuality from them, but it was necessary until I moved out. If they let me, that is. My sis lives in one corner of the compound, and my big bro lives in another. They've been given cushy jobs in the winery, and I would bet money Dad had the same plans for me. Chalk it up to the nature of our family. I'd even bet they already have my college and marriage planned out. Hell, they've probably scheduled my mid-life crisis!

"So all I'm good for is to give you a granddaughter? Is that why you keep on introducing me to your investor's kids? You hoping I'm going to sneak off and do the nasty with one of them?"

"You'll keep a civil tongue in your mouth, boy. You're not man enough to take the mantle of head of this family."

He had a point. I was big, but Dad was a lot bigger and could break me in half. Even my older brother wouldn't take him on. Only part of the reason was that we're family, and we were supposed to love each other.

"Dad, I just want to live my own life. I don't want to be a..." No way was I about to blurt the next two words out. No way. But Dad in his oversensitive hearing wasn't about to let the matter drop.

"You don't want to be a what, son? Go on, you've stepped in it already, go ahead and say it." His voice was glacial. Good thing I had that thick, wavy hair on my head. Too bad I couldn't use it to gag myself.

"Fine, whatever—I don't want to be like you and be a house husband, content to let others do the work that you're physically capable of doing." Now I said it. Now I was in for it. I'd be lucky if I were only grounded for life and the next one.

His frown was smoothed away, the placid look in his eyes back in style. "I'll have you know I have provided for this family, and have given you everything you could ever have hoped for. You don't know hardships, boy. Don't even pretend like you do."

"I don't pretend, Dad. I know my life is easy, and it could be a lot worse, but you're in denial. You're living in a lie, trying to be what you're not."

"And what lie is that?"

"I'm done talking, Dad. I'm going to go out on patrol, so forget any dates you might be having for me; I don't want any part of it." I turned away from Dad, halfway expecting him to grab my shoulder, but that never happened. I walked out of the Den, followed only by his voice, which wasn't glacial anymore. No, it was like a grenade.

"You come back here, Israel! You come back here now!" He kept on repeating himself, and I could still hear it even after I drove away from the house. I was going to be in some serious trouble when I got back home, but that's the price of being a rebel.

It was starting to get dark by the time I got back to the school grounds. I parked my jeep next to the football field, and made my way towards the chain link fence that kept the unsavory types from squatting there for shelter. I got over the fence in no time at all, and walked over to the building behind the bleachers. It served as a locker room and gym for the football players, and I liked to work out there at night. I might have muscles most adults don't have, but I had to hit the weights to keep them, and I had to hit them hard if I ever wanted to get bigger. I wasn't worried about getting caught. I could con my way out of any trouble or just intimidate whoever found me there. It happened one time with one of the football players, one of Manny's friends, and after a few words from me he was guaranteed never to rat me out. It's a wonder our football team ever won a game in their life, the way the players were so timid.

Tonight was upper body night, so I pulled off my tank top, taking a moment to look down at my chest, admiring the way my muscles bulged when I bounced them one after the other. Yeah, I'm a prideful bastard, but when you have to work on looking pumped, I think I'm entitled for the occasional ego boost. It's not like I show off in public, that's not my style, but in private it's a different story.

While I was doing some barbell curls, keeping my eyes focused on my mirror image from across the room, I had to wonder why I thought things were so bad for me that I had to be rebellious. I was living the easy life, even if I was about to fail Algebra II. I got what I wanted if I wanted anything, and I was destined to have a cushy life. So why was I bucking the system? Because I could do so much more, not just for me but for the people who lived in my territory. I had an obligation to them, even if they didn't know it. The teachers thought I was a Good Samaritan, but if they knew the truth...

The sound of something hitting the fence reached my ears—it was loud, like something bulky collided with it, the rattle of impact lingering even after whatever hit it landed over the fence. I ignored the feeling of deja vu and I kept on doing my reps; I wasn't afraid of getting caught since people who were supposed to be there wouldn't have jumped the fence like me and whoever else that followed. When the door broke away from its hinges and splintered into two big hunks of wood, that's when I started paying attention to things outside of my workout.

Manny stood inside the doorway, chest heaving like he'd run ten miles non-stop. His teeth were clenched so strongly I was surprised he hadn't broken them. I could tell by the way he was dressed and the hairstyle that it was him, but his face was almost unrecognizable. The skin around his forehead and cheeks was dark red, redder than he should be, even if he was overexerted. And the smell, like he had some week-old body odor, only laced with some rotten eggs underneath along with some other scent. Something sweet, but the origin was escaping my nose. His eyes were the thing that put me on my guard, though. There wasn't anyone resembling Manny in those eyes, only something really crazy behind those wide-eyed bloodshot peepers.

Still, I could've been wrong, so I tried to have a conversation with him first. "Manny? What the hell are you doing here? You want to add more humiliation to your day or something?" So I'm not good at diplomacy. I didn't care. He was interrupting my workout, and I was in a mood to kick some ass after my fatherly confrontation.

"I'm going to get you, Kevinson. Get you and rip your skin off and eat it." There was something really wrong with his voice, like it wasn't fitting inside of his throat. And then there was that horrible mental image he conjured, but that was the least of my worries.

He leaped across the room, which he shouldn't have been able to do physically, and slammed into the bench I was using. I was long gone, having jumped away the moment his feet left the floor. I threw my barbell at him, hoping it would hit him on his thick skull and knock him out, but he knocked it out of the air with an angry swipe of his arm. Not good. That thing weighed a hundred pounds and he flicked it away easier than he would a paper airplane. "I’m going to kill you, rip off your skin and eat it."

He didn't give me time for a proper comeback that would have castrated him mentally. Nope, he leaped at me with that same unreal strength, and I barely had time to roll out of the way. Was I just getting the post workout slowness, or was he getting faster?

I sprung up to my feet, hopping in place and keeping my body relaxed so I could move at a moment's notice. He slammed his fists on my chest and sent me flying. I hit one of the sets of mirrors that lined the wall, feeling the shards cut into my back. He was getting faster, and a lot uglier. The redness was covering up his face, and amplifying his ugly face into something I'd call demonic. I was able to see it all clearly since he'd charged me again, pushing me up against the wall, his hand wrapped around my throat and keeping me from breathing. He held me up with one arm, and my feet were actually dangling off the floor. He shouldn't have been able to manhandle me like that; whatever was making him faster was also making him a lot stronger.

Black dots were starting to fill up my vision, and I couldn't pry his grip off of my neck, no matter how much I flexed it or tried to break his fingers. I was going to pass out and my skin was going to wind up in his gut if I didn't do something drastic.

So I did something drastic.