At Their Mercy

~All characters are at least 18 years of age at the time of sexual interaction. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1:

Twenty-two years. The amount of time it took me to idle my way from birth through the educational system to finish my Art degree. Believe me when I say my mom loved that. Sorry if my words don't drip the sarcasm that hers did. An accountant mother, who worked steady hours for the last thirty years and her, currently employed as a painter, art graduate son. And when I say painter, I don't mean paint to canvas like I spent the last four years learning. No, I mean paint on walls manual labor. She loved that too.

The last time I actually heard her voice, six months prior, I listened to a string of I told you so's and general criticism of my questionable life choices. The conversation ended as many previously had, weird silences after her latest thinly veiled insult grew stronger until she finally sighed and said, "I'll let you go."

Since that day, we spoke in curt text messages. I didn't tell her how I was working steady hours. I didn't tell her that, strangely enough, I actually liked the work. I had a bit of luck going to school with the brother of the painting company owner. Seth introduced us after I mentioned I was having trouble finding something steady, and the office work I had been doing previously was likely to drive me insane if I kept at it. I had some faith that my degree would come in handy, but for the moment, I just wanted to keep paying the rent, so I could paint at home.

It seemed a good match, relatively short days, considering I would regularly work eight hour days then proceed to school for four plus hours. I had painted before, a summer job when I was a teenager. It was a trade that took some time to learn, but I was a fair hand at it. It wasn't exactly what I wanted to be doing, but in all honesty, I liked it.

We painted residential interiors all over the city and suburbs. I may not have been able to make money putting paint on a canvas, but I can't say I didn't like when I client was smiling at our finished product as we left. It was something at least to brighten someone's day.

I was making a stable living working with a painter named Sam, splitting the jobs and the pay. In just a few months, we had garnered some trust, and we were doing steady work. I couldn't complain about the money. I was making twice as much as I had at the office. I made my rent payments, paid monthly on my student loans and even managed a bit of comfort after throwing some into savings.

The upside was, I had plenty of time to pursue my own interests. I caught up on books, I watched some shows and movies I had been putting off, and I actually had time to paint. I wasn't exactly churning them out like hot cakes, but I made a few that I liked.

All in all, my life might have seemed a little stale, but I didn't mind the break. If there was one thing that hadn't seen much progress recently, my dating life would come to mind. In college I did alright, but a couple long term relationships and a handful of shorter ones were past tense now. No surprise there though really. I didn't go out often enough. And don't get me started on the events that followed telling a girl you met, while out with friends, that you graduated with an art degree. In general, there were two reactions, with some variance.

They either would seem somewhat excited about meeting an artist, yet decidedly less so when finding out that you hadn't sold many paintings, followed by the current job; Or, they would immediately lose interest. It wasn't purely money snobbery, though there were a couple occasions I'd swear to it.

It led to me going out a little less with my friends, and a possibly unhealthy amount of sitting at home. I wouldn't go so far as to say I was depressed, but I was in a bit of a funk.

There I was, home one night, twenty-two years and nearing a dozen months, when I received a text, then phone call I hadn't expected.

Chapter 2:

*A lawyer called looking for you. I gave him your number.*

My mom's text proceeded the ringing of my cell phone by all of twenty seconds. I hadn't even managed a reply before an out of state area code popped up. I slid my thumb across the phone and spoke, "Hello?"

"Is this Alexander Reed?"

"This is," I replied, "How can I help you?"

"Son of Arthur and Elise Reed?" he tried to confirm.

"Yes," I added, "Though its Elise Baum now."

"Right, right," he apologized, "Sorry, just had to make sure. My name is Dennis Lewis. I'm calling because I oversee your father's estate."

A rush of emotions flowed through me. To be honest I couldn't categorize them all. In that short time where I tried to catch my breath and keep down the wealth of feelings rising up I barely managed a stuttering, "Is he... Did he..."

"He hasn't passed, but," his pause gave me a chill, "Shit, I shouldn't be the one saying this..." He tried to collect himself. "Your dad is sick, quite sick. Lung cancer"

I wanted to ask several questions, but I had trouble managing a single thought.

Dennis continued, "I've known Arthur for years. I'd even call him a friend."

A bout of anger managed to wrestle a moment from the rest, "Then you should know that I haven't so much as spoken to him since I was barely out of diapers."

I could hear some pain in his breath from the other end of the call. "He probably thinks he doesn't deserve it, but he wants to see you." He paused for a moment, "I've heard what happened, at least his side of it, and I'm aware it doesn't paint him in a good light."

"That's an understatement."

"I get it if you don't want to come. I understand seeing him again might be hard, but if I'm being perfectly honest here... You will likely regret it if you don't."

Even in my clouded head, I could sense the honesty in his words, but I wasn't entirely ready to process it all. "How long?" I managed to choke out.

"Not long. Doctors say not much more than a few weeks or so. He's not in good shape, he hasn't left the hospital in the last week." His pain was evident, "Pretty sure he knows it's about his time."

"I'll, uh..." I started without knowing what I was going to say. I'm pretty sure the rational person's response would be to start packing a bag. To say that it was hard to be rational where my parents are concerned is an understatement.

Dad gone for good at two years old. The next twenty spent being raised by a distant mother. I wouldn't say I hated either of them. To be fair, I didn't know my dad well enough to hate him. I had some strong resentment knowing that he just walked, that was to say the least. And Mom, well, for her many faults, I always believed she only wanted what was best for me.

Fuck it! I thought. I might wind up regretting it, but I believed at that moment that Dennis was right. I would regret it more if I didn't go.

"I'll pack a bag and uh..." I stopped unsure of the destination, "Where am I going?"

"It's outside of Chicago. I can text you the info when were done."

I planned it out quickly in my head, eager to do anything other than think about the circumstances. "I can take some time off work and drive out in the morning. I should make it out there early evening."

"Give me a ring when you make it into town." He added, "There are some things with the new draft of his will that I'd like to speak to the three of you about."

I almost nodded blankly into the phone, until I realized, "The three of us?"

"You, Kathryn and Selina," he explained, obviously confused at my inability to comprehend.

My stunned silence gave way to the obvious question, "Who?"

"Your half-sisters," his stunned reply. My half-sisters? My mind had trouble tracking. "I knew you didn't speak, but I just assumed you knew. He told me he spoke to your mother a few times over the years, but..."

"I never knew," she never told me?

The conversation faded from there. I was more than a little shocked. It was still evening, so I called my boss and told him I needed some time off to deal with family. I wrote a check for November, despite it being the 7th of October, and slipped it in my landlords drop box. My bag was packed before my head hit the pillow.

I sent a text to Mom before I fell asleep.

*I have two sisters?!!!*

Her reply was an actual phone call. Surprising for sure, but I didn't answer. A few minutes later there was no voicemail and no text. I sighed and tried to sleep.

I managed a couple hours, not the worst thing being that I intended to get on the road early for the 8-hour drive. I slammed half a pot of coffee, throwing the rest into a thermos and hit the road after a light breakfast.

Mom called again on the road. I answered this time, and listened in for an hour of excuses as to why she never told me. He had tried to contact me through her. He wanted me to meet his family. She blocked every attempt. I wanted to rage, but I found out quickly there was some bad blood between them. He had left her, left me and didn't look back for almost five years until the first call. Others rarely broke past a shouting match. She hated him for leaving. He hated her for keeping him away. She hated herself for keeping me away. He hated himself for leaving. It was a vicious cycle between them. One, I thought, could've been remedied fairly easily just by letting me know, but neither of them could manage it.

To be succinct, the call left me with a bad taste in my mouth. I began to understand both sides, but I didn't agree with either. It definitely explained some things growing up, but it didn't leave me pleased with either of them.

The email app on my phone dinged to an email from her, after she hung up. It was a number of digital pictures. So, at twenty-two years old, I saw my sisters for the first time. And saw my father for what felt like the first time. I spent a half hour at a rest station flipping through them. I want to say it made me happy, but honestly, a large part of me resented them.

The pictures seemed to show a happy little family, recent ones missing their Mom. I suddenly felt sorry for them. I even felt a little warm thinking about meeting my sisters. If I am being honest, even a little about meeting my father.

I hit the road again with the music loud enough to drown out at least handful of my thoughts.

Chapter 3:

I arrived outside the hospital around five. I sat in my car and smoked a cigarette. Then another. And another. I wasn't a heavy smoker by any means but being so close had set me on edge. The caffeine coursing through me did no help, as I stared out the window watching my breath fog a bit around my shaking hand.

I pulled up the email from the lawyer and gave him a call. His secretary answered and I left a short message, "Tell him I'm in town, about to head into the hospital."

Finally leaving the car behind, I entered, and asked for directions at the front desk. Down a white hall. Up an elevator. Down a white hall. I walked past the door once, then again. Finally managing to breath, I knocked.

I didn't hear an answer, so I inched open the door and peeked in. He was sleeping. Grey hair and pale skin, snoring softly. I took a step inside and heard a fairly loud snort. I couldn't suppress the snicker as my mind remembered a recording an ex made of me while I slept.

I took a quick glance around the room, seeing flowers in a cheap vase on the windowsill. A few books were scattered across an end table. A peek in the open drawer revealed a few more. I felt it would be wrong to wake him, but I felt awkward as I sat in the chair and stared off into space.

I checked to see any new messages on my phone, but there were none. Finally, I flipped through the email again from my mom. There was a picture of Kathryn and Selina blowing out the candles on a 17th birthday cake. The fraternal twins resembled each other a lot, but they had very different styles.

We all seemed to share the same hair color, a dishwater blond. The girl smiling freely on the left wore hers pulled back into a ponytail with glasses, giving her a bookish look. The other, faking a sneer, had hers cut above the shoulders, with a slight curl and a few dyed blue streaks. Their blue eyes shone as others in the frame looked on. They were a couple of beauties for sure.

A grin broke out on my face, unbidden, when I noticed the room had a certain silence. I looked up from my phone and met his eyes. For the smallest moment there was confusion, replaced quickly by recognition. He smiled a little timidly.

"Alex, you came..." his voice was gravelly. In those three words lay surprise, happiness, and a little pain.

It wasn't the smoothest start. The conversation started almost clinically. He told me about his health. He didn't expect pity and I didn't state it, though I did feel it.

He told me the short story of why he left. It contained enough of his emotion for me to tell that it pained him, but his eyes shined when he spoke of his family. That, in turn, caused me a small amount of pain. He would smile wide when he talked of the sisters I never knew.

The sun set, a nurse arrived to check on him and told us we only had a half hour until visiting hours were over.

"Can you stick around for a bit?" he asked. I nodded. "Lina and Kat will be by any minute."

"Sounds good. I have plenty of time to find a motel or something."

"You could stay at the house," he offered.

"I don't want to impose," I replied.

"No point paying for a bed, there's a guest room. It'll be a good chance for you guys to get to know each other. They've known about you since they were little and always wanted to meet you."

I nodded anxiously. The door squawked a bit as they walked in. They were both dressed for the weather, pants and a coat.

Selina tucked a few strands of hair that came loose from her tie behind her ear. Her eyes found mine and she broke into a smile, "Alex?"

Kathryn, beside her, shook her wavy, now pink highlighted hair, from her hoodie and took a few quick steps, gathering me into a hug. "Welcome to Gotham, Batman," she giggled revealing some insight into a joke. Selina joined the hug as well and it clicked in my head for a moment.

If it weren't for me getting my grandpa's name, would I have been Kyle... or Bruce. I cringed a bit, then snickered. At least he didn't try to stick me with the middle name Luthor.

We chatted a bit before eight o'clock rolled around. Lina and Kat, as they asked to be called, gave me some insight into the photos I had of them. Their birthday was coming up on the 22nd. Their expressions were a little down as they mentioned they didn't have any big plans this year, despite turning 18. It was obvious why.

We said goodnight to our dad, and I caught up to them in the hall. "You okay with me staying with you two for a bit."

"We'd love it," Kat answered and Lina smiled.

"Cool. Cool," I smirked.

"Cool, cool, cool," Kat joked.

"You walk here?"

Lina nodded, "The house is only a few blocks."

"It's dark out. I can drive us there."

***

The house was big. Two stories, painted a pale blue. They gave me the ten-cent tour. Four bedrooms, 2 bathrooms. Big open spaces for the kitchen, living and dining rooms. The basement downstairs was wide open aside from a small bar and a pool table off to one side. Two of the three bedrooms on the upper floor belonged to the twins, while the other was the guest room. I put away my bags and joined them downstairs. Kat ordered a couple pizzas and we talked about everything and nothing while we ate and streamed a couple movies.

They seemed genuinely happy to have me coming into their lives, but the reason for it happening now hung over it all. As for me, it was hard coming here. Hearing that, despite their own portion of tragedy, they had a family life that I'd always hoped for. It pained me more than I liked that I felt that bit of jealousy.

Chapter 4:

Dennis returned my call the next day. We met in the afternoon at the hospital and went over the will. My dad left the house and a bit of money for the three of us. I was honestly surprised at the even split. I understand some kind of familial favor, or even guilt driving the decision, but I got the sense that he just wanted to keep us on even ground.

That first week, I made the trip around five to the hospital. We'd talk about little things and big things. I began to understand the smallest bit of what made him tick. The life he had left, with my mom and I, was something he felt great shame about. When he met his late wife, and started a new family, it ate him up inside.

Finally, he made a call and got the answer he expected. It wasn't enough for him to call. He begged for pictures, anything to quell it. Over the years, she sent school photos, fair photos, even a few from when I played sports in high school. We flipped through a small album he had on hand of them. I told him the stories involved in each. We shared a few laughs, even a few tears.

Tuesday the 22nd rolled around. We managed to guilt the girls into having a small party with their friends. They didn't feel right about having a birthday without their dad there to watch them blow out candles. I compromised by promising them a cake at the hospital. They quickly pointed out the obvious danger. I promised I would figure something out. Kat joked, "Can you even bake?"

I rummaged through a hobby shop while they were at school. I managed to find 18 LED birthday candles, with a remote, so you could at least simulate blowing out the candles. It may not be the same. In truth, what birthday after this one would be.

Afternoon came around and I did my very best with some cake batter mix and an oven. The chocolate cake came out a wee bit lopsided, but not too bad. I frosted it, popped the candles in and packed it in a small box.

Kat's number popped up on my phone about quarter to five.

"Can you pick us up now?" Lina asked.

"You could stay with your friends a bit longer if you want. You still have a few hours, plus I'm sure the nurses would make an exception since it your birthday and all."

"Hmm," Lina paused.

I heard a little scratching on the other end. Kat must have grabbed the phone, "We're ready if you are. You know we wanted you to come with us."

"And here, I slaved away in a kitchen for like..." I paused in dramatic emphasis, "A good hour, at least to make you a cake."

"And we're grateful for that, but you still should have come with," Kat sounded a bit sad.

I regretted not going with them a little, but high school seniors weren't really my crowd. I already felt that I was butting my way into their lives so much. I practically declined on reflex. They took my halfhearted excuses and didn't really press then.

"Sorry," I offered.

"It's fine," her voice brightened a bit, "There'll be others. Now get your ass in gear and pick us up." I heard their laughter loudly through the call.

"Yes ma'am," I joked, and saluted. I don't know why I saluted....

***

I pulled up outside the rink. The twins and a few girls were chatting outside the entrance. I opened the car door and stood up so they could see me. I waved shortly. A few heads turned, including the twins. They wore big smiles and waved back. They made their way through their friends with hugs and a few laughs.

I was warming my hands over the heat vents as they jogged up to the car, ice skates slung over their shoulders. Each found a hand on the passenger door. It opened a few inches, but not further.

"You're letting all of the warm out," I joked.

I watched them play rock paper scissors through the slight fog on the window. Kat won with scissors. She made an exaggerated cheer, which turned into a little victory dance before both doors opened and they jumped in. Immediately, four hands joined in warming over the heaters, Lina's through the way she wedged herself through the gap between the seats.