Photographs Ch. 01

Taken aback, Danny said defensively, "I didn't exactly believe him. I mean, I'd learned by then that if he was bothering to talk to me, it had to be lies." He shrugged. "I was twelve, I guess."

"Twelve?!" She paced to the desk, picked up a stapler and slammed it down. "Twelve?!" She slammed the stapler again. "What kind of monster says something like that to a twelve-year-old boy about his own mother? Even if it were true? Which it is not!" She raised the stapler once more, but Danny had crossed the room and gently pried it from her hand.

"It's okay, Mom. I told you. I never really believed it. Come on. Sit."

She let him guide her to the sofa where she lay down again. He settled on the sofa by her feet.

She was upset, but if he relented now, he might not get another good chance. "Who's my dad, Mom?"

His mother sighed deeply and closed her eyes for a second. "His name was Andreas Fulton. He raped me when I was fifteen."

He nodded to himself. "I figured. It's the only reason I could think of that you wouldn't talk about it. Is that what Dad has over you?"

She was quiet for a very long time before she said softly, "No, but I can't talk about that. It's someone else's secret." Another deep breath and she said more firmly, "He drugged me. I remember drinking a glass of iced tea and the next thing I knew I was waking up in a hospital. Everything else I know about it was what people told me."

Danny had to press. "Who was he?"

"A house guest. An orphan your grandparents took in." She smiled a little. "You know how they are. He was Jamaican, as far as we knew. A senior in high school. No one knew who his father was, and his mother died in a fire that Christmas. We took him in so he could finish high school." She frowned and pressed her lips together. "And he repaid my parents' kindness by raping me. I was a good girl, Danny. Went to mass and catechism. A virgin."

"Do I look like him?"

"Yes, some. He was very tall. A basketball player, like you. But you also look a lot like your uncles, too. You know that."

"Where-"

"Enough, Danny," she said tiredly. "I'll tell you more some other time. It's been a very rough night for me. For both of us."

Danny decided, a bit ashamed, that he had done enough. "Maybe we should both go to bed."

"Yeah. I think I could sleep now." She didn't move for a second. "Danny?"

"Yes?"

"There is something I need help with, but it's very...uh...intimate."

"What?" he asked cautiously.

"Your father broke the skin on my back in a place I can't reach. I need antibiotic spread on it."

"Oh. Um..." He thought with a nervous twinge about the clothing she'd have to remove for him to get to it. "Okay, I guess. Yeah, I guess I could help with that."

"Thanks. Go to the bathroom. There's some antibiotic in the medicine cabinet."

Walking to the bathroom, Danny thought for the first time that night about having seen his mother naked. The horror of what he'd witnessed had prevented any type of excitement he might have felt at the sight of a beautiful naked woman. Yes, she was very sexy, but Danny also remembered seeing marks on her back, legs, and upper arms even before his father wielded the cane. Sickened, he grabbed the medicine and returned to the den.

She was lying on her stomach on the sofa when he walked in. The afghan was again over the lower part of her body, but she had lowered the back of her robe to below her shoulder blades. He stood over her for a moment, studying the shallow horizontal welt that ran across her spine.

"Scooch over," he said. "Let me sit."

She shimmied sideways into the back of the sofa to make room for him, and he sat down. He could feel the heat coming off her bruised body in the cool room. No wonder she wore such a light, skimpy robe.

He swallowed and said, "You need ice."

"Sometimes I do ice, but I don't want a lot of fuss right now."

"It's really shallow. I don't think you have much to worry about."

"He wasn't supposed to hit my back. It's dangerous. He lost his balance, I think, and the cane slipped."

"Are you excusing him? He shouldn't have been hitting you in the first place."

There were also some bruises that were older. Angry now, and determined to know the truth about what had happened to her, he curled his fingers around the neckline of the robe and slowly pulled it downward.

"Danny!" she hissed. "Stop!"

"No. I want to see what he's done to you."

"Danny," she said, warning. "Stop right now."

She started to lift up, giving him a glimpse of the side of her breasts, before she seemed to realize what she was doing and collapsed back down on her stomach, but not quickly enough for him to miss the fading teeth marks. His hands paused while he closed his eyes to ward off an image of his father with his teeth around his mother's tits, biting hard enough to bruise. Anger blazed into fury and he resumed the removal of her robe. "I have to know."

She sighed and buried her head into the sofa cushion. "I never wanted you to know," she said, her voice muffled. He felt her stiffen when he reached her buttocks, but he kept going, removing both the robe and the afghan now until her entire body was exposed.

Being an athlete, Danny had plenty experience with the life of bruises. The marks from the cane were horrifying, but many of the marks were from at least the day before, inch-wide bruises that might have come from a belt or strap. "Some of these aren't from today," he said.

She turned her head so she could speak clearly. "When you are gone," she began. She swallowed. "When you are going to be gone for a while, he's more..."

"Violent?"

"I was going to say aggressive, but violent works, too. During the first couple of days. Then he seems to work it out of his system. It also helps me be not as stiff and obviously sore by the time you come back. But Danny, your dad is gone a lot, and most of the time he just doesn't feel like doing it. It's not always like this. Most of the times it's just spankings or a few hits with the strap. Even then, not more than a couple times a month."

It was true his father, a photographer who aspired to be a paparazzi, traveled often, following celebrities and the rich and famous. It was also obvious that a lot of sexual sadism had been going on lately. He lightly ran his finger over a fading, yellowed bruise. "This is at least a week old, Mom," he said, outraged. "How could I have not known this was happening? How long has this been going on?"

"He's very careful, Danny. His control is... frightening. Never on the face or anywhere it would show."

"He doesn't want me to know."

"He doesn't want anyone to know. In case you've never noticed, appearances are very important to your father. I often find that useful." Her mind drifted for a second, "I think... never mind."

"What?"

What she didn't want to say was that she'd researched the BDSM community. They might leave the occasional bruise, but not the masses of bruises Steve inflicted. Careful, yes, but Steve was also very brutal. And he did other things... humiliating things that she tried to forget.

"Never mind, Danny," he said firmly.

"How is it that I never heard anything, though? You started screaming."

"The door was open tonight. It never is. Besides being in the basement, the stuff he calls light-proofing serves and sound-proofing. The house used to belong to a guy who had a small record label. It's the main reason Steve chose this house. And I..." She sighed. "I make sure the bruises are always covered so you can't see them."

"How long, Mom?"

"As long as we've been married. Sixteen years."

He took a deep breath and let it out. "I think," he said slowly and deliberately, "I'm going to kill him."

"No!" She raised up again, heedless of how exposed she was. "Promise me. Promise me, you will never let him know that you know. Promise."

"If he knows I know, he might stop."

"No, he won't. He'll do bad things to you and everybody. He'll think I talked, and everything I've fought for all these years will be for nothing. Please, Danny," she begged.

"Mom-"

"Please."

He stared at the marks on her back, but said, "All right." Doesn't mean I can't still kill him. He lifted the robe and afghan back over her and reached for the ointment. "I promise, Mom," he said as he carefully smoothed it over her back.

When he was done she rose while pulling her robe and the afghan over herself so that he couldn't see anything more. "I need another promise, Danny," she said.

"What?"

"Promise me that you will go to college out of state."

"No."

"You have to. I want you safe."

"So you won't be? No!"

She looked at the ceiling for a second, gathering her thoughts. "He's always been very jealous of you, Danny, and the older you get, the harder I have to work to keep you off his radar. Please, you need to go."

"So he can beat you any time he wants? No. No no no and no. I won't leave this house unless you come with me."

"I can't go. Please. Don't make all I've done and endured be for nothing."

He rubbed his face with his palm, but when he said, "Sure, okay," it was easy because it was a promise he had no intention of ever keeping.