See No Evil

“I want you out! I mean it! I can’t even look at your face!” my father yells the minute we walk through the door.

“Hank,” my mother pleas anxiously, looking at my father and then back at me, not knowing who to console first.

“Don’t ‘Hank’ me, Charlene. This is your fault as much as his. You coddled him all his life, and this is how he repays us,” he roars, walking into the living room and heading straight to the bar, obviously thinking alcohol will calm his nerves.

It won’t. At this moment, there’s nothing that can be said or done to temper my father’s angry disposition. But I guess it’s to be expected since all the dreams he had for me were ripped from his clutches so mercilessly.

I keep my mouth shut, knowing nothing I say will make him believe me. The damning results on the lab’s conclusive report are all the proof my father and the dean will take into account. Professing my i

This whole afternoon they locked themselves in the dean’s office to do damage control while I stewed in my seat in the same room, ordered to remain silent like an errant child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. No matter how i

“What are you still doing here? I told you, I want you out of my house, boy! You are no longer a member of this family. The disgrace you’ve brought, this blemish you’ve made on our family name, can never be undone,” my father bellows, chugging his bourbon in one go and looking at me with daggers in his eyes.

At least my mother is not siding with him. But she’s not making any attempts to side with me, either. Switzerland, that’s what she’s like. Maybe that’s what she’s always been like, and I just never noticed. My mother is a neutral force in this family, who only implements her rule when she sees fit. My father kicking me out of my childhood home doesn’t merit her intervention, apparently.

Unwilling to hear another bitter word from my father, I turn around, knowing that the next time we see each other we will be strangers. But I guess we already were. If he knew me at all, he’d believe me the first time I told him the lab results are bullshit.

“Fi

My father sucks in his teeth, his scowl wrinkling his forehead, making him look older than his sixty years of age.

“This home is for people of integrity. Not cheaters.”

“I have never cheated a day in my life,” I growl, my sudden outrage making it clear that his condemning words hit their intended mark.

My father’s head falls back, unleashing a contemptuous cackle, making my anger increase tenfold. I’m his son. How can he believe I was capable of doing such a thing? Doesn’t he know me at all? Guess not.

“Oh, you’re not a cheater, huh? Then what do you call this?!” he shouts from the top of his lungs, throwing my failed dope tests on the ground.

Hmm.

What can I call a piece of paper that proves my steroid use? Do I call it my penance for being a manipulative bastard in trying to right a wrong? Or do I define it as my own karma kicking my ass for being an unfeeling asshole all these years?

Perhaps neither.

After all the lives I’ve ruined, I think I can only call this scathing, false document The Society’s way of reminding me exactly what I deserve.

And maybe they are right. By all accounts, I should be behind bars for all the criminal things I’ve done. My freedom should be ripped from me, and my reputation tarnished beyond repair. I sure as shit don’t feel like I deserve any better. Not when the woman I love hates my guts, thinking I jeopardized her chances for the future she always envisioned. Not when she spends her days hating me while I wallow in my misery, loving her.

Missing her.

“You haven’t let the boy even explain himself,” my mother pleas again on my behalf. However, at this point, I really wish she wouldn’t.

“What is there to explain? He got lazy and thought he could cheat his way into the NFL. You should be down on your knees, thanking Ryland and me for convincing the lab to destroy your results—for a price, I might add. If word got out that my son needed to shoot up to win a game, I’d never hear the end of it. But you’re still a liability, and Ryland is too astute to let you embarrass the school by keeping you on the team. I can’t fault the man for protecting his interests. I’m just ashamed you were so careless to not do the same to yours.”

“Hank, you are blowing things out of proportion. Montgomery said that Fi

“I’m not doing the tests,” I mumble. “I’m quitting the team.”

“What did he just say?” my father asks my mother in outrage, only to snap his head back in my direction. “What did you just say to me, boy?!”

“You heard me. I said I’m quitting the team. I never wanted to go Pro. That was always your dream, not mine.”

With those words still piercing through his eardrum, he throws the tumbler of bourbon against the wall, making my mother jump back, clasping her trembling hands over her mouth to keep her horrified shriek at bay.

I, however, keep my footing steady, not one bit intimidated by his fury. I’m done with his bullshit. I’m done with football and every expectation he ever had for me. But most importantly, I’m done being The Society’s butt boy.

They thought this would break me? Did they really believe that my father kicking me out or disowning me would be the thing that would cripple me? Or that making me look like another steroid-filled jock would ruin me? Is that what they thought?

Idiots, the lot of them.

They had already succeeded in breaking me. This extra bit of hell doesn’t compare to the one I’ve been living in since they went after Stone. I couldn’t give two flying fucks that they threatened my place on the team, or made me gain my father’s wrath.

I was already a mess of a man when the one person who knew me—really knew me—gave up on me. When Stone told me she loved me, with hate seeped deep in her gorgeous eyes, I died that day. There is no pain greater than seeing the person you love in such tremendous agony, thinking you are the cause of their suffering.

This little sideshow act of theirs does nothing for me. The first shot already pierced a bullet through my heart. Why waste extra ammunition when they got the job done in their first go of it?

“Charlene, by all that is holy, get this boy out of my house before I strangle him.”