5: In The Name of The Police

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Dexter McCarey. My dad. The hell of my life. It's him I am looking at now.

I stare at Dexter, wrinkles and all marks of his cruelty spread across his pale, sick face. His eyes still lying deep black and round - he hasn't changed a lot at all. The moment I look at him, everything he did to me comes back in my head - the punches, the hard blows, the insults, and everything. But at the same time, I remember mom. I remember her kindness, her sincerity, and how I... killed her.

Well at least how he thinks I killed her.

"Wolliam," He mutters, his voice shaking, eyes almost tearing up. He ambles nearer and puts his hand near my face, attempting to touch it. "Is- Is that you?"

I don't say anything, but I dodge his hand and throw it back, jerking backward. I look away immediately, trying not to look like nervous as I am now. Lea glances at me for a second and then back to Dexter.

"Hi, ah, Mister, I'm sorry but his name is..." she pauses, looking around her, obviously searching for something, "Connor."

I look at Lea, and it takes me a minute to process that she's actually covering up for me. But no, I should not try to pretend that I don't know him. I should shove to his face that I could live without him, that I don't look like some beggar roaming around the streets. That I'm here, alive, healthy as ever, and most importantly, looking like I don't care about him now.

"Quit joking, Lea." I say, giving her a nervous laugh. She looks at me with a look that shows disbelief, and then she rolls her eyes. "Yeah, da- Dexter, it's me, Wolliam."

Dexter takes a big gulp, eyeing me with his jet black eyes, having a hard time registering the fact that his son whom he abused is standing right in front of him. After a minute, he takes a heavy sigh and looks up, and then back to me.

"Hey, how... how are... you?"

I feel the tip of my lip curve upward, forming a devilish smirk. "How am I?" I repeat his question, my voice a bit sharp. "Well, I'm doing fine as ever, unlike when I was in your godforsaken house."

My voice is stern and steady. I'm not entirely sure I needed to say that, but I came out of my mouth like a hiccup occurring to my lungs. Dexter's eyes dart down, his hands clasped together.

"Daddy, Daddy! Daddy, can you buy me that teddy?"

A little girl with round, gray eyes and golden blonde hair that falls across her pale face tugs at Dexter's clothing, pointing at a shop with a huge teddy bear displayed. She looks so innocent and so little. She looks like she's only four or something.

Dexter's gaze falls to this little girl. "Just for a while, Cassie,"

"So," I look down to Cassie. "She's your real daughter?" I say, my voice sounding shaky. It came out more like a statement than a question.

Dexter flinches slightly. He looks at me deeply as he swallows the lump in his throat. "She's my wife's daughter."

Oh, so this motherfucking man's got a new wife, huh? So much for the love she feels for my mother.

I feel myself itching to go straight to him and punch him straight on the face, but I hold back my anger towards him because of Cassie.

The little girl, Cassie, pouts and crosses her arms across her chest. She looks at me. "Who is he, daddy?"

"He's uh, um, he's ah, a friend."

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