The right hook came out of nowhere. Pain shot through his jaw as Colt’s head snapped to the left, forcing first his head, and then his entire body, around. He struggled to stand as stars filled his vision. What the hell? Colt slumped against what he thought was a wall. But it turned out what held him up wasn’t a wall after all, but a brawny man that now had Colt locked in his arms. He tried to fight against the hold, swinging blindly. Was he being robbed?
Everything happened so fast, his mind wouldn’t work except to register the secretary hurriedly shutting the office door behind him seconds before Colt was struck again. Maybe not. Shit! The guy lost his hold; Colt slumped forward and was jerked up by his T-shirt. His father’s face came into focus, anger contorted his features as his big fist connected with Colt’s gut over and over again.
Fuck, he already knew.
“Larry, stop it! Stop it! You’re gonna kill him!” Johnny yelled from somewhere behind his father. Minutes later, after another solid round of the beating, Johnny had a hold of his father, pulling him off Colt.
“I don’t give a fuck. I brought him into this world, and by God, I can take him out! No son of mine’s a fuckin’ cocksucker!” His father was a big man, an ex-NFL linebacker, and the agent struggled to hold him as Colt slid down the body holding him in place. His face was bloodied and the pain unbearable. He was losing his vision. His left eye was already swollen shut and blood flowed freely, dripping down his face. He might not be able to focus his eyes, but he saw what was going on very clearly. His father had somehow found out about Jace.
Everything in the room came in double vision, and he realized a second too late that he was going to throw up. The bile rose in his gut. His father wasn’t the type of man to let things go. Without a doubt this wouldn’t stop with just him; he would go after Jace. Fuck, he had to protect Jace!
Colt struggled to stand, but his legs gave way, and he crumbled back to the floor. Whoever else was in the room had to still be behind him because a boot connected with his throat, holding him in place against the thick carpeted floor.
“Larry, sit down! Stop it! That’s enough!” Johnny screamed as a pair of brass knuckles fell to the floor in front of Colt. No wonder his father’s punches crippled him so completely. Colt managed to look up at the same moment his father spit in his face.
“You make me sick, you queer piece of shit. I’ve guided your whole fucking career, laid everything out perfectly for you. And I’m not about to let some little cocksucking faggot fuck it all up for me!” His father had broken free of Johnny’s hold and barreled back down on Colt, his fists pounding while the boot held him on the ground crushing his throat.
“This is what happens to faggots, and it’ll do you good to remember it.” He heard his father yelling as he struggled to get free, but something or someone else was holding his legs. He hadn’t been double teamed, but triple teamed. Fuck!
Colt’s intake of air was being dramatically restricted, and at this point, if he didn’t do something, he wouldn’t live through the next few minutes. Darkness came, seeping in from all sides and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The pain of his father’s steel-toed boots connecting with his already worked over rib cage was the last thing Colt remembered before he vomited on himself and passed out.
***
“You’re alive, boy, but barely.” There was contempt in Johnny’s voice, and Colt groaned, trying to open his eyes. His body hurt, and he couldn’t get his left eye to cooperate, but his right finally fluttered open enough to see his agent standing over him with an ice pack in his hand.
“Your father’s…” Those words had Colt jerking forward, recoiling from any pending attack. He instinctively tried to prepare for whatever might be coming, but the sudden movement caused unbearable pain to shoot throughout his body and settle in his ribs. His mind rejected everything except the need to flee. He had to get out of this place. Colt struggled to stand until his agent grabbed him and pushed him back down on the sofa.
“He’s gone, Colt. Settle down, son, and listen to me. He’s gone!” The agent kept saying while pushing him back down on the sofa. His body ached so badly. He fought to stand, but couldn’t manage to get his feet underneath himself. Why was his body betraying him? He had no choice but to lie back down.
“Drink this. It’ll help.”
A cool glass was placed between his lips, he opened slightly and straight whisky was poured down his throat. Colt choked and gagged on the disgusting liquid blazing a flame down to his stomach. He could feel the excess running down his cheeks and his neck as he was forced to consume everything put to his lips. Johnny laid an ice pack on his face as someone entered the office.
“What happened?” There was concern in the unfamiliar voice. Colt prayed that meant help had arrived.
“I don’t know. He came in like this,” Johnny lied. Colt could see him turned toward the door, but couldn’t see who else was in the room.
“How’d he get here like this?” The voice was getting closer, and Colt tried hard to focus. He groaned, and tried to speak. He wanted to say who’d done this to him, but his throat hurt, and the sounds coming out didn’t form any of the words he wanted to say.
“He stumbled in like this.” Colt looked up to see an older gray-haired man standing over him, looking concerned. He must have looked as bad as he felt with that much concern on the guy’s face.
“Son, I’m Dr. Patterson. Who did this to you?” the doctor asked. The look on the doctor’s face made it clear he wasn’t buying Johnny’s story, but the agent wasn’t giving.