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WILDER

I woke up with a pounding headache that made me nauseous. I wanted to run to the toilet but with my alcohol-impaired walking, I barely stood on my feet. I reached out to every wall and furniture I could get my hands on until I made it in front of the toilet. I kneeled and, with a sudden retch, vomit poured out of my mouth.

I heaved a few times until I felt it was all out of my system.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as my breathing steadied. Then I sat down and reached for the towel, cleaning myself.

Man, what an intoxicating ride. It felt really bad like I couldn't remember anything that happened in the past few hours. It was blank. I just hoped I didn't do anything stupid while I was drunk.

A bitter chuckle left my throat as I thought, There's nothing stupider than what I did to Tristen.

Yes, I still remembered that night very clearly, and it made me teary again.

I was still feeling a bit tipsy, but not enough to numb the pain. It seemed that the drink helped me forget about everything except the very thing I wanted out of my head—that I hurt Tristen, that he was gone and probably never coming back.

I slumped on the cold tiles and leaned against the wall, so tired and miserable. All the numbness was gone and the terrible feeling I was trying to suppress returned. I betrayed Tristen. I used him like a horny maniac, like some perverted sex addict.

I covered my eyes and squeezed them to fight off the tears.

I really ruined it, haven't I?

My hand came slamming to the side of my head.

"Stupid. Stupid."

Nothing will be the same ever again.

A strong knocking on the door snapped me out of my self-pity. It was 11 in the evening and I wasn't expecting anyone. My first thought was him.

"Tristen?"

He came back.

I jolted up, grabbing the sink to avoid falling. I stumbled my way through the apartment, shouting.

"Tris! Tristen!"

I reached the banging door and didn't even bother checking through the peephole. All I wanted was to see Tris again. Excitement and anticipation stirred inside me. My heart was pounding as the knocks on the door became louder.

The door was practically shaking in front of me and it didn't stop until I unlocked it. If it was Tris, then he must be very pissed and only came here to punch me, which I would gladly let him.

I twisted the knob and pulled the door open. The person that greeted me on the other side made the tiny smile that formed on my lips drop.

"Hello, Wilder."

"Dad?"

Dad's blue eyes were on me while his head was lowered like a predator. His expression was dark and scary. Bulging veins on his neck only grew bigger as he breathed. He was furious.

Confused and terrified, I raised my shaky index finger at him.

"What are you doing here?"

The next thing I knew, his hand slammed onto my chest and pushed me inside the apartment. I landed backward with a grunt, reducing the impact of the fall with my elbows.

Dad got in and locked the door behind him.

"Ow." I rubbed my chest. "What was that for?"

"Why don't you take a wild guess."

I gazed at him and that was when I saw the thin leather belt he was holding by his side. Panic took over me. I shifted my feet, crawling away from him until my back hit the rear of the couch behind me.

"Woah. Wait a minute."

"Take your shirt off," he commanded as he slowly stepped closer.

I never looked so small in my adult life, with Dad's muscular frame towering over me like that. Dad used to be taller than me, but as he aged, he fell a few inches short. He was still scary as fuck.

"Why?"I quavered as I shrunk in my place. "What did I do?" My eyes went wide, and that was when it hit me. "Oh, shit."

Dad knows.

I vaguely remembered drunk calling my dad, or he called me. I wasn't sure, but I was damn sure that I told him about everything, as in everything I did to Tris last night.

I grabbed my head and repeated, louder this time, "Oh, shit."

What the fuck was I thinking? Do I have a death wish or something?

"Oh, shit—" Dad took a big threatening step forward, closing the distance between us "—indeed."

"Dad." I raised my shaking palm, begging for a chance. "I can explain."

I almost didn't recognize my voice, going all high-pitched like that from the fear swelling in my throat.

He leaned forward and yelled, "There's nothing to explain, you piece of shit!" He whipped the belt at the air beside him and made me flinch at the sound. "Now, don't make repeat myself. You know I don't like to say things twice."

I quickly pulled the shirt over my head and tossed it.

"What are you going to do?"

He tied the end of the belt to his hand and said, "I'm gonna beat some sense into you."

"With that?" I pointed. "You never used that on me before."

"Yeah, well, maybe I should've." He tilted his head and gave me his crazy angry eyes. "Maybe it would have made you a better man and you would've never screwed things over with Tristen!"

"I-Umm."

I stared at my dad and stammered. I had no words. Tears pricked my eyes. A fire burned in my throat.

Dad was right.

It stung hearing these words out loud. I assaulted Tristen. I did that. No one else. Me, his best friend, his roommate, the person who he felt safe to live with. I betrayed his trust.

I ruined us.

"Get up and lean against the couch."

I did as he demanded. I always took his punishments without question since I was a kid. He had a very authoritative voice and a terrifying demeanor that always made me obey him. He was my dad, I had to obey him.

I grabbed the edge of the couch and angled myself against it. My back was exposed to my dad as his presence alone from behind made me tremble.

"He was your best friend, goddamnit!"

The first blow lashed my back with a slap. It burned along my spine. I grit my teeth and took it like a champ. Only a faint groan left my mouth.

"How could you do such a thing?"

"I'm sorry," I cried out.

Another lash. This one stung like hell. I winced, hissing in pain.

"He trusted you! You were like a brother to him!"

"I know," I whimpered. "I screwed up."

His strikes became more vicious. I clutched the frame of the couch and grunted after each hit.

"You make me sick! I can't even look at you right now!"

Dad kept yelling at me and calling me names. And from his voice alone, I could tell he was pacing furiously and shouting in every direction until he swung the belt at my bare back again.

"I said I'm sorry."

Slap!

"Sorry doesn't fix anything. In fact, nothing can ever fix the shit you've done!"

"No, don't say that." My voice cracked.

Before I knew it, tears flooded my vision. I blinked a few times to get rid of them, but they fell, leaving dark circles on the beige couch.

Slap!

"Of all the shitty things you have done, this is by far the worst thing ever! You crossed the line to a whole new territory."

Slap!

"You need to be tamed, boy. This is not like the time when you broke cousin Tammy's arm or when you almost blinded Billy."

Slap!

"This is a serious crime. Because of you, Tris will be traumatized his entire life."

"No." I shook my head, crying. "No."

Slap!

"He will never trust you again. You destroyed the only decent friendship you ever had."

"Dad. Please, stop, Don't say that."

Dad's words sent blows after blows straight into my heart. At this point of the beating, I was full-on sobbing. The physical pain I was exposed to was nothing compared to the pain in my chest.

"You did the unthinkable. How can you explain yourself?"

"He was in pain. He took this drink that made him sick, and I had to help him."

"By fucking him? Have you lost your damn mind?"

"I know. Ow. I was drunk. I couldn't help it."

"That's not an excuse! You took advantage of the poor boy. You. Nobody else."

It seemed that every time I opened my mouth I made things worse. I stopped trying to explain myself. There was nothing to explain, really. I was drunk and horny as fuck. I was looking forward to having sex with Tris more than I wanted to help him. Well, not at first.

The blows came harder, conveying my dad's furious rage. I was sure that my skin was bruised with welts from top to bottom by now.

"Ow. I know. I'm sorry. I couldn't control myself."

"Couldn't control yourself? You fucked up on a whole new level!"

"I know. Ow. Dad, please, stop."

"Tristen will never look at you again!"

With that, I felt the walls crumbling down on me. My universe shattered. I wasn't sure I wanted to live in a world where Tristen wasn't in it. My legs couldn't carry me. My hands were slipping from the couch.

"No, Dad. Don't say that. Ow."

"You lost him forever!"

"Stop. I can't—"

I tumbled down, leaning against the back of the couch as I turned to face my dad.

"I can't take this anymore," I yelled. "Stop it. Please."

I raised my hand, defending the incoming lash. I yelped as it hit my palm. I grabbed my injured hand and hissed from the pain. I stared up at my dad with eyes drowning in tears. I had never cried like this in my whole life. The idea of losing Tristen was the equivalent of losing my life. It sent jolts of dread through my veins, making me shake and heave with heavy sobs.

Dad raised the belt but stopped midair. His expression was softening a bit when he met my gaze.

"It hurts," I cried. "Stop it. It hurts."

He leaned closer to scream at me, "It's supposed to hurt, you dumbass!"

"No, not the beating." I shook my head. "It's my heart." I clutched my chest. "Dad, please help." I looked at him, begging with my eyes. "I feel like... it's gonna explode."

I was losing my mind. My eyes were wide, filled with tears, and my breaths were shaking with sobs. My heart burst with sudden painful beats. I felt like I was dying. I was hurt from invisible wounds inside my soul.

Dad made me realize that I lost Tris. Forever.

"I can't breathe," I told my dad as I gasped for air. "It's like someone took away the air around me. I can't breathe without Tris, Dad. You gotta help me, please. I know I did a terrible thing, but I want him back. Help me get him back. I don't wanna live without him. I don't think I can."

My heart broke. No. It shattered. It felt like a monstrous claw ripped it out of my chest and shredded it to pieces, so cruelly, so painfully. It was the worst pain ever.

I buried my face in my palms and shamelessly cried in front of my dad. I, a six-foot-two grown-ass man, was crying like a little girl.

"Oh, Wilder," I heard my dad saying with a sympathetic sigh before he slowly sat next to me. "Come here."

He pulled me to his shoulder by the back of my neck, and I cried even harder. I let go of the sobs bubbling inside me. It all came out from deep within my broken heart.

"You've always been such an impulsive idiot." Dad sighed as he stroked my hair. "I don't know what to do with you."

"Help me fix this," I cried.

"To be honest, I don't think it can be fixed."

"No," I whined as I clung to him. "Don't say that."

We sat there for some time, Dad stroking me until my sobs diminished into hiccups and sniffles.

Dad and I had an unusual father-son relationship. He was tough but kind. He punished me but also cuddled me. He scared the shit out of me but I loved him. I knew he was trying to make me a better person. I was just a handful since I was little and needed constant disciplining.

"You know," Dad started. "Your mom was right."

"About what?"

I cleaned my face with the back of my hand as I straightened up, still resting my head on his shoulder.

"You're just like me when I was young." He chuckled and rested his chin on my head. "I was wild and impulsive too."

"Really?" I looked up. "You?"

"Mhm. That's why Grandpa sent me to military school."

"Wow." Who would've thought that Dad had a wild side?

"Yup." He let out a bitter sigh. "Well, I was worse, actually. The stupid things I did were out of spite. The stupid things you did were out of love. Still, you should man up and own your mistakes. And that's what I see you doing right now. You know that what you did was wrong, and you're willing to make up for it."

"I do." I wiped the stray tear that left my left eye. "But how do I make up for it?"

Dad paused for a moment before he slowly shook his head. "I have no idea."

"So, what?" I pushed myself away from him to look him in the eye. "I lost Tris, forever?"

The quiver in my voice and the hurt expression in my eyes made Dad sad. The wrinkles between his eyebrows worsened. I could tell he was trying to give me a solution to my problem, as a dad, but it wasn't fair to him. I wasn't a kid anymore. This problem was my own to fix, but I didn't trust myself. I really needed some wisdom from my old man.

"Give him some time," he finally said. "Don't bother him anymore, don't try to talk to him, don't smile his way, don't even look at him unless he looks at you first. If you're suffering, then look the part. Don't try to be funny and cheery like nothing happened. You'll only piss him off. You have to look miserable outside like you are from the inside. And maybe, just maybe, he'll notice how much you're sorry and how much he misses you too."

"For how long?"

Dad placed his hand on my shoulder and said, "For as long as it takes for him to heal." He slightly shook me. "OK?"

I stared at him before I had the courage to answer, "I'll try."

I honestly didn't know if I could do it. I always covered up my sadness with my cheerful attitude. It was going to be a difficult task for me, if not impossible.

"Good," Dad said as he pulled me over for a side hug.

"Thanks, Dad." I hugged him back. "I love you."

"Boy." He pulled away to laugh at my response. "I just whipped you mercilessly and that's what you say to me?"

"It was for my own good." I shrugged. "I know I deserved it."

"You're such a weird kid." He shook his head with a lopsided grin. "I love you too."

Suddenly, he touched my belly and grimaced.

"You're sagging." Uh-oh. I know where this is going. "How long has it been since you hit the gym?"

"A couple of weeks." I winced.

"A couple of—are you kidding me?"

"Well I—" I scratched the back of my head "—I couldn't leave Tris alone after his breakup."

"No excuses." Dad glared at me before he pointed at the floor. "Get down and give me 20."

"Ah, Dad," I whined. "Seriously?"

He stood up and barked, "Make it 50."

"Come on." My shoulders sloped from exhaustion. "I just got whipped."

"You wanna make it a hundred?"

I had no choice but to drop down and do fifty push-ups with Dad over my head screaming at me to do it better. My back was killing me, but Dad didn't go easy on me. He made me finish all fifty reps without a break between them.

Oh, why did I get a military man for a dad?

This must be the universe's way to punish me.

Jesus! Wilder's dad sure is one scary dude! 😲

But he did give great advice in the end, don't you think?

I wonder if it'll work, or if Wilder's going to stick to it 🤔

NEXT CHAPTER: Practical Exam >