Chapter Twelve:

I regretted everything I let Michael do to me.
It was strange. During our time spent together, I felt fine. Hell, better than fine. I had wanted sex for as long as Michael's wanted it, I was just trying to make Michael suffer for what he did to me.
But now, regret consumed me. I had a voice telling me I fucked up, that I shouldn't have let him take advantage of me.
I let him win.
And now what? He probably thought he could get sex whenever he pleased now. He'd be the king again. He'd be top dog, alpha, leader.
He'd be the head of the household again.
My power reign ended and Michael's taken over again.

"Hello, handsome," Michael purred in my ear as I made dinner. I clenched my teeth together at his closeness.
I felt his arms snake around my waist, pulling me against him. I clenched my teeth harder and harder until I was positive they were going to break. Michael was oblivious to what he was putting me through. He simply swayed us back and forth, his arms still tightly wound around me, suffocating me.
"What's for dinner?" He asked.
"Chili," I muttered back through clenched teeth.
"Mm... Sounds good. I'm sure Banjo will be thrilled about it," Michael told me.
Just then, Banjo came through the door, throwing his backpack onto the floor. He looked pissed off, like he just got into an argument with someone.
"What's wrong?" Michael asked, pulling away from me. I let out the breath I had been holding, feeling like I could breathe once more.
"Fucking, Tyler Reynolds and Kazooie. He was flirting with her again and when I went over to talk to her she seemed to be just taken away by Tyler," Banjo growled.
"I'm sure it wasn't like that, Banjo," Michael said.
"Yeah it fucking was. They've been hanging out a lot lately. Tyler's liked Kazooie since middle school," Banjo said, throwing himself into one of the bar stools.
"Well, did you talk to Kazooie?" I asked.
"Yeah. I told her to stay away from him," He growled.
I nearly face palmed right there.
"Banjo, you don't tell her what to do. God, did I not teach you anything," Michael growled.
"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do then?" Banjo asked, raising his voice to a low roar, sounding almost exactly like Michael right before he rage quits.
"First off, you calm down. You don't listen to anything I say when you're angry. Second off, you don't tell her what to do. That shows that she's getting to you, which is exactly what she wants to do. You just let her do as she pleases and act like it doesn't bother you a bit," Michael told me.
Banjo sat there for a moment and I waited for one of his signature stubborn comments like 'That's not gonna work' or 'You're full of shit, Daddy.'
"Okay," Banjo said.
I immediately turned around and looked at him. Michael and I shared the same look as we gazed at Banjo.
"What?" He asked.
"'Okay'? No stubborn comment this time?" Michael asked.
"What stubborn comment?" Banjo asked, anger bubbling in his voice again.
"Nothing," Michael said, turning away from him.
Banjo rolled his eyes and left, going up to his room. I almost expected to hear the stomps as he stormed up the stairs but it was silent, telling me that whatever problem he had was resolved.
A few minutes after he went upstairs I heard the door open again, Michael looked back from where he sat at the bar, smiling and greeting Oliver and Cree.
"Hey, dinner's almost ready," He told them.
Oliver nodded slowly, looking strangely nervous. Cree nudged Oliver, as if silently gesturing to something that we were unaware of.
"Uh... Cree and I already ate. Sorry, Dad," Oliver said.
I turned away and rolled my eyes. Of course they did. They always did.
"Oh, well that's too bad 'cause Dad made chili," Michael said, winking towards me. I pretended not to see it.
"Yeah it is... I'm really sorry. We're just gonna go up to my room now," Oliver said, quickly walking away from us.
And I was alone with Michael again.
"Maybe we should force Oliver to eat a second dinner. He looks pretty damn skinny, don't you think?" Michael asked.
"It's because he's my kid, Michael. I was skinny like him too at one point," I told him.
"Really? At one point? You're looking pretty skinny too," Michael commented.
I looked down at myself, wondering what he was talking about. I knew I had lost a couple pounds since everything started with Michael and I, but I didn't think it was noticeable.
It was.
I looked like a twig. I was never a really muscly guy, but I looked like that one weak nerd in every high school movie.
It was pretty disgusting.
"It's not something I can control, Michael," I muttered.
"You so sure about that? I remember you cutting meals a little while-," I cut Michael off.
"You know what? I'm gonna go for a walk. Dinners ready; you can help yourself," I told him.
Michael looked dumbfounded for a moment. His mouth gaped open like he was mid sentence or like he was about to say something smart back to me. I didn't give him a chance to respond though since I immediately walked out of the kitchen, slipped on my shoes, grabbed my coat, and left.

The brisk air blew against my cheeks and turned them bright pink. The moon rose and glared at me from its permanent place in the sky. I shoved my hands further into my pockets and shrunk into a smaller ball.
I was about midway over Pennybacker Bridge when I stopped suddenly. I sighed and leaned against the railing overlooking the water, gazing out over the river.
There was nobody walking along the bridge, which was strange considering there was usually plenty of people walking across the bridge to see the views. And even more surprising was the fact that there was very few cars driving across the bridge. I had only counted a total of fifteen since I arrived.
I breathed in the polluted, cold air. It wasn't a nice feeling and instead I felt like I was suffocating.
I thought back to when I was still in my twenty's, when I almost jumped off Lamar Boulevard Bridge. I had been so certain I wanted to kill myself that way. You'd jump, wait about two or three seconds, land in the water, and drown. It was simple. Almost no plan needed.
Tonight was a perfect night to do that same deed.
I looked around me, seeing another car drive past. Once it was gone, I leaned over the railing a little more, starting a staring match with the water below.
It'd be so easy...
Immediately after I had that thought I backed away from the railing. A jolt of fear raced through me as I felt myself being consumed by the darkness that I fought so hard to stay away from. My old demons, resurfacing in my head, reminding me of all the reasons I don't need to live.
I took several deep breaths, trying to slow my mind. It took a while but eventually I felt myself calm down and the thoughts become a dull whisper in my subconscious.
As I began walking back home I made my mental list of why I needed to stay alive. It was an old trick my counselor had taught me and sometimes it worked if my negative thoughts didn't immediately counter everything I put on the list.
Oliver
Banjo
The fans
My ideas
I struggled to think of the fifth reason. What was the fifth reason? There had always been five.
Then I realized what I was missing.
Michael...
Nowadays he seemed to be the reason I should kill myself. Back when I was younger, he was the primary reason I stayed alive. But now... All he did was make me miserable.
Maybe it was time to discuss divorce.
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I apologize for the shorter chapter. Next one should be longer. However I have a question for all you lovely people.
I've drawn a couple characters from this story (primarily Banjo and Oliver and one of Kazooie) so if you'd like to see what I envisioned them as, let me know in the comments.
Have a wonderful day!