Weeping Willow (Spanking Story)

Chapter 4, Part 2: Owen's POV

"Detention is dism-" the teacher began, but I never heard her finish. I was already out the door. I'd never been so eager to go home before!

My eagerness to go home faded as I got closer to my "humble abode". I knew Dana would be there, and I'd gladly go on a dinner date with Dylan Peters before seeing him again. I had not a modicum of an idea what his reaction would be. Would he be angry? Would he send me to my room again without dinner? Had he told Ben and Cooper? What if they hated me now, too?

I had worked myself up into a nervous frenzy by the time I had reached the front door. I was contemplating ways I could make it up to my room unnoticed, but I knew it was futile; I had a feeling someone would be waiting for me the moment I got home.

Sure enough, I was right; I always am.

Dana was standing in the foyer when I opened the front door, but I couldn't tell if he was angry or repentant or anything. He just looked... emotionless.

I didn't say anything, just kind of stood there with the door wide open and my eyes looking anywhere but at him. I knew I was letting heat out, but couldn't bring myself to care. I liked feeling cold, anyways—numb.

"Come inside, Owen," Dana finally uttered, voice barely audible.

I cautiously stepped inside, giving my brother a wide berth and ensuring I was out of arm's reach. It was then I realized that I was scared of my brother. I was scared of Dana.

"I need to talk to you," he said again in that same quiet voice, eerily slipping out of his tight lips like it was physically painful for him to say them.

I only nodded, gripping the strap of my backpack with white knuckles, legs shaking underneath the khaki pants.

"I want to apologize," Dana nearly bit out, arms crossed so tightly his shirt was straining against the flexed muscles.

I nearly blanched, eyes going wide and mouth dropping of its own accord. Dana? Apologize? For what?

"For punishing you at school today," my brother continued. "It was inappropriate—although your behavior warranted it—and I should have waited until we got home."

What in the hell was I supposed to say to that? Sure, it's okay that you beat me in public? Let's go skip off into the sunset and live happily ever after. I was too bitter and this apology was too unauthentic for me to even consider forgiveness.

"Okay," I answered, speaking for the first time since I'd entered the household. I went to sidle past him and up the stairs, but a hand reached out and stopped me; I couldn't keep myself from flinching.

Dana was looking at me as if I'd grown three heads or something. He removed his arm quickly, returning it to its place against his chest.

"Aren't you going to accept my apology?" he inquired, sounding slightly agitated. What in the hell did he have to be agitated about?

I shrugged, neither an affirmation nor a negative response, and looked carefully at the buttons of his shirt. I wouldn't look into those black pits he called eyes.

"I expect you to do the mature thing and accept my apology, Owen. This childish behavior is what I've been talking about all along!"

"You don't even think you did anything wrong, do you?" I asked instead.

"Well no, I didn't—not at first. But then Ben made me see why it may have been a bit harsh, even though it was well deserved!"

So, Ben had made him do this? God, this situation couldn't get any fucking worse could it?

"Then no, I don't forgive you," I told him, experiencing a surge of bravery. However, I was sure it would pass momentarily.

"You! I! I can't believe—" Dana spluttered. "Just go to your room, Owen David! You clearly will never learn because you are so incompetent!"

His words didn't hurt, though. How could I feel anything when I was already so numb? I simply followed his directions, gladly seeking the comfort of my four walls over my own brother. Maybe this was what being on drugs felt like. I was starting to see the appeal of wanting to escape.

~*~

Now, I finally understood why paper beats rock. Because this singular piece of paper felt like a boulder in my pocket. It was weighing me down, and I wasn't afraid to go six feet down under with it. When had I become so morbid?

Google Maps had told me the address was only about two miles from our house, scarily and surprisingly close. I was able to leave with little trouble, claiming I needed to take a walk down to the library to check out a book. Ben had let me go without question, sending me off with that strangely sympathetic look he'd been wearing for the past few days. I hadn't spoken a word to Dana since his failed "apology", and I knew the family tension was really eating at Ben; he was the termed "head of house", after all, and took personal responsibility for anything wrong.

I was sure every person I passed on the street knew I was carrying 30 pills of ecstasy in my hoodie pocket, knew I was throwing my life away for some schoolyard bully, knew I didn't care about my life, regardless. I wanted to tell them all to just take a walk in my shoes, see how it feels to be unwanted. God, I sound so pathetic. Toughen up, Owen; the world doesn't hand you life on a silver platter. No, obviously mine had ended up in a garbage can.

I arrived at the obscure address before my customers, and settled for leaning against the wall and trying to look like I belonged. Who was I kidding? I didn't belong anywhere.

I tapped my foot anxiously, just ready to get this over with. The longer I was here, the greater chance I had of being caught.

"A-OK?" a voice asked to my right, causing me to jump and painfully scratch my back against the brick wall. It took me a moment to recognize my designated street name. Trust me, I hated it as much as you do.

"Y-yeah?" I spluttered, hastily standing up straight, sticking my hand out, and jerking it back just as quickly. Honestly, shaking hands? This wasn't a business deal; well, not a traditional one, anyway.

"You got the concert tickets?"

Oh, this was so familiar...

I reached into my pocket carefully, fisting my hand around the packet of pills. "You got the money?" I questioned, finally looking my customer in the eye.

I froze, suddenly paralyzed in fear.

Holy. Fuck.

It was—no, it couldn't be. Could it?