“Why wouldn’t he be all right?” Dad asked with a hoarse laugh. He pointed at his face. “He’s not the one looking like Frankenstein, is he?”
“Ugh, if you need anything, just holler.” The bartender moved on to another client, but he kept looking back at us.
“What is it about you that makes men want to protect you?” Dad asked. “Even when they know about the monster that you are.”
“You made me this way,” I said.
“I only showed you your true potential.”
“You’re my father. You were supposed to protect me, not-not…”
“You seduced me.”
“Only to get you to stop beating me.” My nostrils flared as the memories rushed in. “It was the only way to get you to stop. But how could you? You’re my father. How could you do that to your own son?”
He stretched out his hand, but I snatched my hand away before he could touch my skin. My stomach revolted at the thought of him ever touching me again.
“Maybe because I know you’re not my son.” This time he grasped my hand. Hard. I tried to pull away, but he was stronger. I could never win with him. “Does that make it all better now?”
“You’re lying. You’re just saying that to feel better about what you did to me.”
“But what if I’m telling the truth? You do want to know the truth, don’t you?”