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flysafepapi · 2 years

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the sin factor 13/?

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Warnings: Referenced child abuse, general sense of self loathing, not much else that I’d need to tag.

Summary: It’s in the eyes, too, the same ambition and clawing desperation to be more, get more, hidden behind a carefully blank stare. He also knows that Duke has something Tommy never had although it’s more likely that it’s the other way around, because Tommy has lines that he won’t cross for reasons that are his own. Duke has no such reservations.

tagging: @zablife @the-makingsofgreatness @peakyrogers @hb-writes @caelys (let me know if you want to be added on or taken off)

“Stop staring at me.”

“Are we ever going to talk about it?”

Duke knows what Isiah means. It had been a mistake to change in front of him, to turn his back. He’s been so careful so far to never let them be seen, usually by turning the light off, or keeping the shirts on after they’ve been unbuttoned. He knew it was going to come up sooner or later. He just wishes it was later.

“About what?”

“I never knew you had a tattoo.”

Tattoo is a poor word for the design on the back of his shoulder. It wasn’t much more than an ugly design seared into him, a stylised letter D surrounded by loops and swirls, darker than the rest of his skin from the coal dust that had been rubbed into the open wounds before they healed, and if he thought the pain from the red-hot metal was bad, it was nothing compared to the burn of the dust settling into the cuts. It’s designed to mark him as property.

“What’s it meant to be?”

“Ownership.”

“What do you mean?”

Isiah is too observant for his own good, sometimes, and even in the dark he can tell Duke’s gone closed off again, pulling back and building those walls right back up to keep himself safe. He hates it when it happens, and normally he would’ve backed off and let the question go, but he needs to know.

“Duke.”

“His name was Durham. Far worse a monster than I’ve ever been or will be. He was married, you see, but I’m guessing it was just for appearances, because from what I remember his tastes were for little boys. Not one of us was over the age of 14. He was a well-known part of the congregation at the church my mother liked to go to.”

He’s thankful that the lights are off, that the room is so dark that he can’t see a thing. If he was able to see the look on Isiah’s face while he talked, he never would’ve been able to say any of this. It’s tempting to stop and roll over, pretend to be asleep, when Isiah makes a noise in the back of his throat. Disgust, maybe, and the fact that he can’t be sure if it’s disgust for him or for the men that did that to him cuts like a knife.

“Did he-“

“No. Not while she was alive, but looking back on it, I know the intent was there. It didn’t happen until later, a year or two after she died. I had just turned 12. Until then, I’d managed to survive by stealing what I could, but I hadn’t eaten in over a week. It was a gamble to try the church, but I was desperate, I was starving. I was naive to think there was ever any help for me there.”

Duke speaks like he’s reciting the life story of someone else, matter of fact and emotionless, but Isiah’s more attuned to him than anyone else ever has been. While he talks, Isiah can hear the tone underneath, and it’s young and hurt and so sad it breaks his heart.

“I’ve never told anyone.”

“You can tell me.”

He does what he’s always done when things get too difficult and turns the question around, makes it into an attack.

“Why are you so interested? What do you want to hear? That everything was fine after I lost the only family I had, or thought I had?”

“That’s not-“

“Or do you want to hear what it was really like? That I would scream and no one ever came to rescue me? I had to do that myself. Do you want to hear about all the things they did to me? The knives and the belts, even a whip or two if they were feeling particularly cruel that day? Want to know all about how they’d turn sweet and consoling after they were done, acting like they didn’t mean to do it, it was an accident, don’t I know they’d never hurt me if I wasn’t so bad?”

The sudden light, from the little lamp on the table beside the bed, makes him roll over and close his eyes. He’s said too much, revealed things he never should’ve.

“Just leave it alone.”

“Hey. I don’t care. Well, I care, of course I do. I want to find everyone who ever took advantage of you and make them pay for what they did. But it doesn’t change anything. You’re still-“

“Not good enough. I've got to go.”

He slips out the door and disappears before Isiah can stop him.

~~~

“What are you doing here?”

“Not happy to see me? That almost hurts, dad.”

He can see the flinch that word elicits, and he might’ve laughed if it didn’t sting. Not for the first time, he wonders how things might’ve gone if all of this happened years ago. If he’d grown up with these people and not on the streets, being taking advantage of for being a starving kid, would that have changed anything?

“You shouldn’t be here. I don’t-”

“Afraid you’re next on the list?”

“So you admit there’s a list.”

“There’s always a list. Who’s on yours?”

The ring Jeremiah had given him is still in pocket and he can feel it like it weighs as much as an anchor, burning hot like the brand that gave him the mark on the back of his shoulder. In this case, it’s a much more pleasant type of burn.

“Not going to tell me? I can understand that. I guess both of us have trouble letting people in. Such a shame they managed to get past our defences anyway, right? Leaves us weak. Yeah, I’ve heard all about your little spy, and what she did. I get it. Guess that’s just another thing we have in common.”

That makes his father flinch more than calling him ‘dad’ had.

“I’m nothing like you.”

Duke ignores the chair in the small caravan and steps over to the small table with the pictures on the surface, tapping his fingers on the edge of the wood as he looks at them.

“I’ve been told he was a good man, in his own way. I wish I could’ve met him.” Esme had told him, on the long ride here, about the man that was once her husband. At the time, he hadn’t responded much, but he remembered every word. “Everyone blames you for getting him killed, because they don’t understand that all the scheming in the world can’t save anyone if they won’t do anything to save themselves. He stayed behind, when you told him it was dangerous, didn’t he?”

“He did. That doesn’t make them blame me any less.”

“They’ll always blame us, it doesn’t matter whether you managed to save him or not. Don’t save him, they blame you for getting him killed. Save him, they’ll blame you for not trusting him enough to protect himself. Miss the death of your daughter by trying to break a curse, they’ll blame you for not being there. Stay with her while it happens, they’ll blame you for not doing everything you could to save her.”

“Don’t talk about her.”

“Burns, doesn’t it? Knowing you could give them the moon and they’d still paint you as the devil? Why are you still trying? It’s much more fun to give them what they want and become what they all believe you are.”

He’s heard Isiah talk about how similar their eyes are, and he can’t disagree when he turns around and looks at his father, who looks back at him with nothing on his face but the burning anger in his eyes.

“Lizzie hasn’t been seen for over a week. Esme’s people said she didn’t even make it back?”

“Really? That’s not good. It’s a dangerous world out there, anything could’ve happened to them.”

“What did you do to them?”

“What makes you think I did anything?”

He doesn’t make it two steps before the click of the gun echoes through the small room.

“Don’t move. Stay where you are, I don’t want you close enough to slit my throat.”

“Oh, Tommy,” Duke says, sliding one hand into his pocket and feeling the familiar edges of the ring, turning it around in his fingers while he pretends not to notice the flicker of confusion using his father’s name creates, “If you think it’s going to go that quick for you when it’s your turn, you’re in for a rude and painful awakening.” He takes another step forward, closer to the makeshift bed in the corner where the other man sits.

“I said don’t move. One more step, and you’ll be dead.”

“Don’t you know, dad? I’m already dead.” He takes another step.