Mom just stands there for a moment, looking at both of us. You can tell she's trying to wake up and function. After a good 10 seconds, she finally comes to life. She looks at Taylor, ignoring my gaze.
"He snuck out again, didn't he?"
Taylor doesn't say anything, but I see him nodding out of the corner of my eye.
Mom sighs and shakes her head. At least she isn't screaming yet—that's a good sign. Or is it actually a very bad sign? I'm too nervous to think rationally right now.
She moves out of the way, still holding the door knob, as she motions for both of us to come inside. Dang it. I was hoping she'd send him on his way. Once she's inside, she shuts the door and starts flipping on the lights.
Taylor finally let's go of my arm, and goes to the bar, resting his elbows on the counter.
I know mom extremely well, but even Taylor can't miss the horrified expression on mom's face once she sees herself in the light. She must've forgotten what she was wearing. She looks down at herself for a moment, trying to think of what to do. Suddenly she says "I'll be back," and goes to her room quickly.
Taylor lets out a soft chuckle, looking down and shaking his head. He liked what he saw, and he thought her embarrassed reaction was funny. This guy's got it bad!
While we're waiting on mom to get back, Taylor goes over to the couch and sits down. Fantastic. He's staying a while.
When mom comes out, she's got a pink silk robe wrapped around her. It isn't your typical bulky mom robe—it's still tiny. It's covering up what it needs to, though.
"Ok, I need a minute. You need to go to your room," mom says, looking hard at me. "You better be awake when I get in there."
I nod, but say nothing as I go to my room quickly. I sit at my desk and turn on the computer, enjoying my last few minutes while I can still use it. I'm waiting for a lot longer than I thought I would. I can hear mom and Taylor talking in the other room, but I can't make out what they're saying. I don't feel like listening either. All I know is I'm getting the paddle, and probably even worse this time.
After quite a while, mom comes bursting in the door. She doesn't even knock, this can't be good. I turn around slowly, afraid to look at her.
I finally look at her, with a lump in my throat. "How bad's it gonna be?"
"You know..." she says as she comes over closer to me. "I'm too tired to lecture you tonight. I'll save that for tomorrow morning. Stand up."
Before I can even think about what I can say to get me out of a spanking, I see it. In her hand is a belt. What the hell? Mom's only ever used the paddle. What kind of joke is this? Is this Taylor's belt? The irony of that is thick. He did promise me he would introduce me to his belt.
"Where did you get that?" I demand
"Taylor's letting me borrow it," she says as she motions for me to stand.
I don't stand; I'm pissed. Taylor tells her she should use the belt on me and she thinks 'oh, that sounds like a swell idea. Let me just beat my child with a leather strap like we're in the freakin' Middle Ages.' Hell to the No! I'm 15. I'm almost an adult, and my mommy thinks she's gonna hit me with that? That's funny.
"YOU CAN'T USE THAT ON ME!....If you want me to stand up so you can hit me with that, you're gonna have to make me," I say, crossing my arms and lowering my voice. I'm dead serious. Normally I'm afraid of my mom, but she went too far this time.
Before mom can even react, Taylor comes bursting through the door, making me jump. He must've been listening at the door. No way he heard that good enough to be this mad, or get here that quick.
He doesn't even glance at mom, his eyes are only locked on me, in a death glare. I suddenly wish mom had never met this guy. He bends down, silently, and lifts up the chair I'm sitting on. He doesn't even grunt. The way he picks up the chair with me on it is effortless. He carries me over to the window, and basically drops the chair, shoving it against the wall, making me rock.
Taylor still hasn't said anything, but he gets down so he's eye level with me, an inch from my face. I suddenly feel like I'm gonna throw up; I'm afraid to even move. I've never seen anybody so terrifying in my entire life.
We stay like that for only a couple seconds. It becomes very apparent to me that he isn't going to move until I do. My fate is sealed. I'm getting hit with that thing one way or another, so I better just do it the easy way, before Taylor decides he's going to do it.
Without a word, I get up and walk over to mom. She's pointing to the wall, so I turn around and face it. I put my hands on the wall, bracing myself. I stick out my butt, close my eyes, and wait—Wait for the pain. Wait for the humiliation. Wait for the spanking of a lifetime.
I hear Taylor as he leaves the room and shuts the door—I don't dare move, though. I'm sure he's on the other side listening again, and this time he won't be so nice to me if I pitch a fit. I feel mom put her hand on the small of my back. I take a deep breath and just wait, not sure what to expect.
The first one comes down with a loud crack—Much different than the paddle. The paddle makes more of a "thwack" noise, where this is a crack. The noise startles me and I jump and yell. At first though, I'm relieved. The paddle hurts way worse. This is gonna be a cake walk. All of a sudden, I feel the burning. A fiery stripe across my butt, burning and throbbing.
The paddle hurts instantly, where the belt burns longer and harder. I'm dead. After only the third strike, I'm crying. Call me a wimp, that's fine. I can't help it—I'm in SO much pain. After what I think is the sixth stroke (I'm starting to lose track already) I'm having trouble keeping still. The pain is so intense, that I almost ask if I can lay over the bed. I'm having trouble keeping myself upright—I might actually collapse. A couple strokes later and I can hear myself begging.
"Please momma—I can't—I'm so sorry. I'll never sneak out again. You HAVE to stop. Please!!!!"
It's no use though—mom keeps up her rhythm. She strikes me so fast and so hard, that I start screaming. Every inch of my butt is on fire. She's layering them.
Layer after layer, burn after fiery burn, the pain is surrounding me. I'm completely positive I'm gonna have literal blisters once this is over. I've lost track of how many at this point; I can't even think. I can only feel the pain. The fiery pain. I will NEVER be in this position ever again. This is the worst moment of my entire life. I'm never gonna forgive mom for this.
I'm having trouble breathing. My breath is caught in my throat, and I can't see. The tears are so thick I'm disoriented. I finally notice mom has stopped, but I can't stop the tears.
I don't think I've ever cried so hard before; My ribs are actually hurting—Everything is hurting. My chest is aching, and my arms and shoulders even hurt from holding myself up for so long. I don't know how long I'm against the wall with my head in my arms—I just stand there and cry. Mom puts her hand on my shoulder, but I push her away. I don't even want her near me right now. Maybe Taylor was right. Maybe I do hate my mom.
I start to calm down, but then I shift and the burn intensifies all over again. I start sobbing, restarting the whole 'calming down' process. This is a nightmare.
After a while, I finally turn around and look at mom. She has tear tracks down her face. She's been crying too.
"Can I just go to bed?" I ask, wiping my nose with the back of my hand.
"Yeah"
I walk stiffly over to my bed. I don't think I've ever been in so much pain in my entire life. I immediately lay on my stomach. The thought of even trying to lay on my back is comical. She tucks me in and gives me a kiss.
"Love you bud," She says as she leaves.
I say nothing. What am I supposed to say? "I love you even though you just beat me?" No thanks
I fall asleep quickly, but I sleep horribly all night. Every time I moved, the pain would wake me up. I finally got up at one point to take some Tylenol. When I get out of my room, I see Taylor asleep on the couch. That's weird. The Tylenol helped enough that I was able to sleep the rest of the night.
In the morning I wake up to the sound of dad in a frantic voice.
"Please tell me he's here!" Dad pleads, sounding like he's about to start crying.
"Who?" Mom asks innocently. Mom is mad.
"Oh No! I thought for sure he'd be here," dad says, slamming his hand on the island.
"Alex, where's Liam?!?" mom raises her voice, pretending to panic.
"I don't know El. He was there when I went to bed. This morning he's gone and he's not answering his phone."
"He's in his room, Alex," mom says with a major attitude.
"Why the hell didn't you call me?!? I've been worried sick!"
I pretend to still be sleeping, but the way dad barges in startles me. I start to sit up, but as soon as I do the fire reignites and I wince and cry out in pain. This sucks balls.
"Someone had better start talking, NOW," he yells. Dad is actually yelling. This nightmare just keeps going.
Mom crosses her arms and looks at me. "Go ahead, Liam Alexander, tell dad what happened."
I explain, in detail, exactly what happened last night. Dad is so mad, his eyes are blazing. I can't decide though if he's mad at the situation, or at the fact he had to come down here looking for me.
Once I'm done talking, dad just stands there and takes a deep breath. He turns to Mom and then looks at me. "Well, it looks like the two of you have it taken care of. Thanks!"
With that, he turns around and walks out, leaving mom, and surprisingly Taylor, looking at each other in shock.