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Angel and the Assassin 3: Sins of the Father

Angel and the Assassin 3: Sins of the Father

Titel: Angel and the Assassin 3: Sins of the Father Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Fyn Alexander
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ascending.
    A jarring fall brought him out of his vision, and the nausea came back. Daddy had
    tossed him onto the bed, and knowing he was going to vomit again, Angel rolled off
    onto the floor. Drifting back over the evening, he was in the headmaster’s office with
    Daddy clenching his fists against his knees every time Mr. Staynton suggested Glasgow
    or Leeds. He was in the cubicle in the men’s washroom at Barcode with that old dude
    ready to ream his ass while his cheek was pressed against the cold metal partition.
    Blood spurted from the dude’s nose when Daddy punched him. The car ride. Daddy
    thanking Jack for calling him. What a good friend Jack was.
    Jumbled thoughts grabbed at him. With both hands, Angel started to hit his head
    because the pictures that were filling it now were awful. He was back in the foster
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    homes. He started crying. Rolling onto his back, he opened his eyes and only then knew
    he had rolled into his vomit. It was all over his hair.
    “Are you awake?” Lying naked on the very edge of the bed looking down at him
    was Daddy.
    “Yeah.”
    “You need to get in the shower. You’ve got vomit in your hair, and you’ve pissed
    yourself.”
    “Oh my God,” he moaned.
    Standing, Daddy leaned down and hauled Angel to his feet. In the bathroom, he
    got him out of his shirt and jeans. “What happened to my jacket? Did I lose it?”
    “I took your jacket and boots off you when we got in. Can you stand on your
    own?” Daddy’s voice was calm. Not sweet or loving or gentle, but he didn’t sound
    angry, which was a relief. Angel was expecting to be punished for such stupidity.
    “I think so.”
    Breathing heavily from the exertion of standing, Angel waited while Daddy
    turned on the shower. The more he came down from the drugs and booze, the more he
    became aware of how he must look with vomit in his hair and his breath smelling foul.
    A niggling desire to look in the mirror was overcome by a greater desire not to see what
    Daddy was seeing right now.
    What the hell had he done?
    “Right, let’s have you.” With his hands under Angel’s armpits, Daddy directed
    him into the shower and under the rushing, hot water. With a long sigh of relief, Angel
    tipped his face up, allowing water to pour over it and into his mouth. He rinsed and
    spit several times.
    “Keep still, boy.” With a handful of shampoo, Daddy began to wash Angel’s hair.
    The strong fingers massaging his scalp brought immense relief to the tight, sticky
    feeling in his head, and the hot water washing away the shampoo helped to clear his
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    mind. Daddy began to scrub Angel’s body with the soapy loofah. Angel didn’t open his
    eyes but let Daddy take care of him.
    Daddy’s big hand washing Angel’s backside felt very comforting until he shoved
    two soapy fingers up Angel’s rectum, rubbing vigorously, twisting his fingers this way
    and that. “Daddy, that hurts.” His voice sound much whinier than he intended.
    “That’s too fucking bad. Did that bloke get his cock in there?”
    So Daddy was angry. He was just suppressing it, which was worse because it
    meant he was so mad that he was afraid of his own temper and what he might do. “I
    don’t know. I don’t remember.”
    “I’m taking you for an STD test. We’ll go to the health clinic tomorrow.” Daddy
    turned off the water, and they stepped out onto the mat. With a big white towel, he
    rubbed Angel’s body roughly, which actually made him feel really good, like he was
    coming back to life.
    Feeling refreshed from the shower, Angel walked to the sink to brush his teeth
    and began to waver. His whole body shook. Daddy put a steadying arm around him.
    “You need to start drinking water to get that shit out of your system.” He put
    toothpaste on Angel’s brush and held him upright while Angel scrubbed his mouth.
    Then Daddy passed him a capful of mouthwash that he swished around his mouth.
    “There. Do I smell better, Daddy?”
    “Yes. Now you can lie on the bed while I clean up your vomit.”
    Yep, Daddy was really mad . “Do I have to go to school today?”
    “Have you looked at the time?”
    He hadn’t. Sitting on the side of the bed, he looked at the clock. “Shit! It’s five p.m.
    I slept all day?”
    “Slept?” Daddy got down on the floor with a plastic bag, a roll of paper towels,
    and a bottle of pine cleaner. “You cried, rolled around, crawled on the

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