My Life as My Father's Slave Ch. 06

Guys, end of story. I know some of you won't like it at all, but understand that it's not easy to please everyone. I hope you won't be too disappointed. Thank you very much to those of you who have followed the story and, specially, to those of you who have commented and sent feedback!

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I was in the garden that morning, gathering my courage for what I was about to do, when I heard a knock on the gate. I walked over and looked out. It was my friend Liam! I hadn't heard from him since that fateful evening with my father.

-Liam, what are you doing here? Go to the main door and I'll open it for you, my father is not here...

-No, Ethan, I'd rather not be seen coming into your house -he said hurriedly and in a low voice-. Listen... my father has recently joined the Resistance...

The Resistance! The underground movement of opposition to the infamous regime. I had heard something about it, when I was still free, but I didn't know if it was real or a myth. Liam continued:

-I've told him about you and he wants to help free you, to help you flee the country...

-I can't run away, Liam -I said sadly-. It's impossible. You see, I'm not locked up. The doors are open. I could leave at any time... But the collar won't let me. It has a tracker that would cause them to locate me immediately -I had been thoroughly briefed on this, as a warning, when they put it on me.

-The Resistance knows how to do it, Ethan... Listen, I have an untraceable cell phone for you. With it you can talk to my father and he'll tell you what to do. Can you hide it from your master?

-Sure -I replied. There were a thousand places in the house to hide such a small device. That would be no problem.

-Take it -he held out the device-, and wait for my dad's call. He'll make sure he always does it when you're alone. Tell me what times that usually is.

I informed him of my father's work schedule and, with a few words of encouragement, he quickly left. I stood there, stunned, with the cell phone in my hand and not knowing what to think, but being thankful that, at least for the time being, I didn't have to take my own life....

In the following days I was talking several times with Liam's father, Alfred. He was willing to accompany me in my escape. Just the fact that someone cared about me and my well-being was a tremendous novelty for me. I had come to think that everyone was like the inspector or my father's colleagues. Alfred explained to me that the technology of our collars was very sophisticated and it was almost impossible to hack them, but that the Resistance had managed to develop a device that overrode them and they could be removed. The problem was that they only had a single device, as it was extremely expensive to make and quite bulky, and it was located in the Resistance headquarters, in a remote place in the middle of nowhere and far away from the city where we lived. In addition, the arrival there had to be done through secondary roads, rural tracks, always avoiding urban centers... In conclusion, getting there from my house would take at least 7 or 8 hours. The problem was that the moment my master reported my escape, the tracking of the collar would be activated and, one of two things: either they would kill me immediately, activating the collar remotely and electrocuting me, or they would capture us. For me, at that point and as you will understand, dying mattered very little to me, in fact, I was thinking of taking my own life anyway, but I did not want Alfred and the Resistance to pay the consequences of my escape.

We planned it carefully. It would have to be at night, obviously. The cage in which I slept locked up would not be a big problem. After all, it was a cage designed for animals and its lock was more symbolic than truly effective. It would be simple to pick, even for someone as clumsy as me. The real problem was my father. I needed him to stay asleep for at least eight hours, and my dad never slept that long. In fact, he was a bad sleeper, and would often get up several times during the night and start reading or eating something. The moment he saw that I wasn't there, he would report me and everything would go down the drain. To avoid that, Alfred passed me, through his son, a strong sleeping pill. He told me to give it to my father at dinner and that would give us enough time to get to headquarters.

The day came when we were to carry it out. I felt terribly nervous and my catastrophic nature led me to imagine all possible disastrous scenarios. What if my father noticed something? What if the sleeping pill didn't work, especially in a man as strong and burly as my dad? Foreseeing some failure, I came up with an idea. I would leave a note in the cage addressed to my father, in case he woke up earlier than expected. If I managed to move him, even slightly, perhaps the escape would succeed, in case all else failed. The note I wrote went like this:

"Father, by the time you read this I will probably be on my way to my freedom. If you read it before dawn, please, I need to ask you for something. I know you have to denounce my escape but, I beg you, don't do it until the day comes. This is the only way I will be able to do it. If you report me in the morning, you will not arouse suspicion or be accused of anything. Please, Dad, I know I have no right to ask this of you, but I beg you, for the love you once had for me, for the love you had for my dear mother, have compassion and do what I ask of you. If you do not do so I will most likely be executed this very night. Please help me. And whatever you do, know that I love you and that you are still everything to me. Love, Ethan".

The letter was all emotional blackmail, albeit totally sincere on my part. I didn't expect much from it, however. My father had long since been a complete stranger to me.

That night I dissolved the sleeping pill in my father's drink. I had also gotten my hands on some pliers to open the cage, and had hidden them under the mat (it was the only comfort my dad had allowed me to have again after the inspector's visit). I had everything ready.

To my dismay, things did not go well. My father barely touched his drink during dinner. He sometimes did like that. It seemed to me that he had only taken a couple of small sips. Would that be enough? I was really nervous.

When bedtime came, my father locked me in the cage and went into his room. I waited a prudent amount of time until he had fallen asleep, as Alfred had advised me, however, there was no time to waste, so shortly thereafter I took the pliers and tried to break the lock on the cage. It took me rather longer than I expected. I'm such a klutz! But I finally succeeded and slipped out. As soon as I got outside, I taped the note I had prepared to the cage. Then I made my way to the door quietly and hurriedly when I heard a noise. I turned around and I almost fainted. My father was watching me from the doorway of his room. No doubt he had heard me move, despite my stealth. As I feared, the sleeping pill had not been enough. He asked me, harshly:

-Where do you think you are going, slave?

I stood there still, looking at him, not knowing what to say. I couldn't make anything up, or justify myself in any way. But then my father looked at the cage and saw the paper stuck to it. I had placed it so that it was very visible. He walked over, curious, and took it in his hand. As he read it, my heart was pounding so hard I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

When he finished reading it, he stared at me, with an absolutely inscrutable expression on his face. I was feeling so anxious that I was about to faint. I expected at any moment to feel a strong shock from the necklace or for my father to start hitting me. Then the miracle happened: my dad's eyes moistened and a tear slid down his cheek!

I looked at him stunned, had I done that with my letter? My heart was pounding out of my chest. My father nodded his head slightly and said to me simply in a very low voice:

-Go away, son...

I didn't wait for him to think twice. Without saying anything to him, without even thanking him, I went out the door like a bolide and lost my way in the night....

The next few hours were absolutely breathtaking. I met Alfred at the appointed place and we both marched in a jeep all night long, through some really remote places, terrible roads to drive on... on more than one occasion we had to push the jeep out of muddy places... I couldn't understand how Alfred could find his way through those places in the middle of the night. For someone like me, whose life had been completely easy and comfortable, it was quite an adventure. And meanwhile, even though I tried not to think about it, I was constantly surrounded by the fear that at any moment my necklace would activate and kill me or worse. Despite what had happened, I didn't trust my father at all. If he finally made the report that night I was doomed.

Finally, with the first hours of the day we arrived at the Resistance headquarters. It was a huge subway plant, with quite a few men doing a multitude of tasks. I was amazed. It looked like something out of a war or sci-fi movie. As soon as we arrived, I was led to the device. There was no time to waste. It was a large device, almost like a giant computer. One of the men pulled a couple of wires out of it and connected them to my necklace. I was terrified, wouldn't that electrocute me?

Another man activated some buttons on the huge device and, with a whirring sound, I saw my necklace begin to glow. It was only for a few seconds. In a moment it made another sort of downward buzzing sound and went out. Alfred congratulated me:

-Congratulations, the necklace is deactivated, you're safe!

I was infinitely relieved, even more so when another of the men approached me with some kind of pliers and, applying it to the necklace, broke it into two pieces, which fell around me. You cannot imagine the feeling of happiness I felt when I lost sight of that filthy artifact. Nor can words express the infinite gratitude I felt towards my dad for not denouncing me and allowing me to escape. Alfred said to me again, cheerfully:

-Well Ethan, now we have to get you out of the country...

The following months were tremendously hectic for me and so many things happened to me that I could write a book about them, much bigger than this story. However, I will summarize them for not being too long: after a thousand vicissitudes I managed to leave the country and I was welcomed as a refugee in one of the bordering countries. There I worked as a waiter, stock boy, janitor... But I did not limit myself to that. I actively collaborated with the Resistance of my country, helping more slaves to escape, and, above all, I was the voice of denunciation of the infamous regime in the media and international public institutions. The fact that I had been enslaved by my own father made me the ideal candidate to show the excess and cruelty of my country's government. In this way I contributed to what was becoming inevitable: increasing international pressure on that inhuman government, which eventually led to the alliance of the army with the Resistance and the fall of the regime.

The Resistance seized power and, naturally, one of its first measures was the immediate liberation of all slaves. Generous financial compensation was also decreed for them and, in my case, with a considerable bonus added for the services I had rendered from abroad to the new power. As it was, when I was finally able to return home, I found myself with an award from the new president and a small fortune to my credit. It had been about a year since I had left home.

I settled back in my hometown, renting a large house in the suburbs, while I pondered what was to become of my life from now on. I was only 21 and still wanted to study, but at the moment I didn't need the money at all and could afford to think it over.

And, I won't deny it, I thought a lot about my father. However, despite his gesture of allowing me to run away, I was still convinced that it was just a moment of weakness, induced by my letter, and that my dad no longer loved me or wanted anything to do with me. I was also not sure if I could forgive him for everything he had done to me, so I decided to move on and forget that part of my life. However, something happened that made me have to reconsider my decision...

One of those afternoons, there was a knock on my door. When I opened it, I was speechless. It was my godfather Mike! When I saw him, my first reaction was fear. All my recent interactions with Mike had consisted of him cruelly torturing me in some way! He noticed my gesture and quickly told me:

-Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you...

Of course he wasn't going to hurt me! I was no longer a helpless slave. Everything had changed. And going from fear to indignation, I shouted at him:

-What the fuck are you doing here, "Uncle" Mike? -I said the word "uncle" with a tremendous emphasis.

-May I come in? -he asked. I thought his attitude was a bit aggressive and, indeed, when I agreed, made him come in and invited him to sit down, the first thing he said to me was:

-Know that I'm not here to apologize, I don't regret anything I've done and, no matter that I've been fired from my job for it, I still think the same about fags and nobody is going to make me change my mind...

Had he been fired from his job? I didn't know it, but I did know that many members of state law enforcement had been kicked out of their jobs having been reported by former slaves as being particularly cruel or bloodthirsty to them. I assumed that Mike had been one of them, something which, knowing his sadism, obviously did not surprise me at all. I replied:

-"Uncle" Mike, I guess you didn't come here to once again shove your disgusting homophobia in my face. So tell me what you came here for or else you can get the hell out of here. As you can guess, you are not at all welcome in my house -I gestured to get up.

-Wait, wait -he stopped me. I could tell he was hurt by my words. As insensitive as he was, being the despiser is not the same as being despised. And changing his tone completely, he said to me: -I've come to talk to you about your father...

-What about him? -I asked, suddenly interested.

-I suppose no one has told you about what happened when you left, right? -I shook my head-. I guessed as much. Well, I'm going to tell you: the day after you ran away, your dad fell into a deep depression, he sank completely into a bottomless pit...

My breath caught when I heard that. I swear I would never have guessed it, given my father's attitude at the time. Mike continued:

-I was always sure he let you run away, even though I couldn't prove it, and even if I could have, I wouldn't have either. Mason was always like a brother to me, and that's why I stuck by him all that time, even though it was hard for me to accept that he was as much of a pussy in the end as you were. He would spend the whole day crying inconsolably and repeating over and over again things like: "My boy, I hurt my boy!", "My little boy is gone!", "I lost him!", "I hurt him so bad!", "Maybe he is dead and I have not been able to apologize to him or tell him how much I love him!"...

My heart was pounding. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I felt such a mixture of emotions at that moment that my head felt like it was going to explode.

-He's been like that ever since -Mike continued, saddened-. He had to take sick leave and he's been cooped up at home all day. He's sick, the doctors can't say what's wrong with him, day after day he's shutting down more and more, and there's fear for his life. I do know what is wrong with him. He's dying of grief and remorse...

I pulled myself together a little and said to him, with contempt:

-And why are you telling me this, Mike? What do you want me to do? Do you think I can forget his behavior with me?

-Listen, Ethan -he said very slowly, getting up. I know you're a good person... -and looking down he added-, You're not like me... -I was surprised by his unexpected self-criticism-. I'm sure you'll know what to do... -he concluded, already on his feet. I walked him to the door without either of us saying another word.

I stood there, stunned, with a thousand thoughts in my head, totally overwhelmed by feelings. But I immediately got up and prepared to leave. Mike was right! I knew exactly what I had to do!

I arrived at the house where I had grown up, where I had spent the best and also the worst days of my life, and knocked on the door. A mature woman opened the door. Surprised, I introduced myself:

-Good afternoon, I wanted to see Mr. Hill.

-Yes, come in... -She invited me in, and at my mute question she said: -I'm Sophia, the maid-, then, surprised, she said: -I know you, you've been on television. Your name is...

-I'm Ethan Hill -I said, smiling-. Yes, I've been on television. I'm Mason's son.

-Oh, I think your father will be glad to see you, sir. Come in, come in... he's in the living room.

I walked over there and went in. My father was sitting on the sofa. When he heard me come in he turned and looked at me. I was very concerned about his appearance. He was much thinner, gaunt and with deep dark circles under his eyes. When he saw me, he immediately got up and came over to me holding out his arms:

-Son! Ethan! My little boy! You're back!

I could not resist and let my dad take me in his still strong arms. He immediately began to convulse in tears, as he told me over and over again:

-Ethan... you're back... my boy... my beloved boy... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry....

I took him by the arm and we both sat down on the sofa. There I comforted him as best I could and said:

-Dad... can I call you that again? -He looked away as if I had slapped him. I admit it was cruel of me, but what do you want? I needed a modicum of revenge. Without waiting, of course, for an answer, I repeated: -Dad, please don't cry anymore. It's true that what you did was very bad, but it wasn't all your fault. You had evil people by your side who corrupted you. Nor was my behavior always exemplary and it is true that I also had my share of guilt in what happened... And, of course, I have not forgotten that you also saved me. Had it not been for you, I would probably be dead today...

My dad listened to me, as tears continued to roll down his cheeks. I concluded:

-But now all that is behind us and I don't want us to think about it again, okay? I'm here now, I'll take care of you and everything will be fine, you'll see...

He smiled through his tears and told me warmly:

-Yes, son. Now you're here and everything is going to be fine...

EPILOGUE

A few months have passed since then. My father has fully recovered, returned to his work (he was never accused of cruelty to slaves) and is again the loving, cheerful and determined dad I always knew. I was planning to stay with him just until he recovered, but finally I settled back indefinitely in his house and today I spend my time in training courses and in establishing bonds and contacts. I am determined to become an important politician and fight for gay rights around the world.

My financial position, on the other hand, has allowed me to help my godfather Mike and Bill, my father's other coworker. They both lost their jobs and I have been supporting them - my dad pleaded with me, pointing out that, despite everything, they had been a great support in his difficult times - while they have been able to find other jobs. And yes, to answer the question you are asking: they both came to their senses, sincerely regretted their behavior and apologized to me for the hurt they had caused me. So did my friend Jake, who was very ashamed of what he had put me through.