When I was a boy, I thought that I would always be smaller than my father. Every day, I was faced with this imposing figure; someone that could split my head open with a single hit. It was like living in a cage with a tiger, not ever knowing when they would slash you with their claws for no other reason than they are a beast and you are there.

There is a mythic status that you put on your parents. The logic of the child says that the parent, as the adult, as the one with wisdom, does not err. When you are left bleeding on the ground, it is because it is normal. It is expected. In fact, it is your fault. If you had done better, if you had followed the nonsensical rules of a chronic drunk, then things would be fine. One day, the mystery to these rules would be revealed and you could live as an adult.

Of course, you are living with a tiger. There is no underlying logic. And, as you try to exist peacefully and follow the lessons you learned from the last beating, you get beat again. Maybe it was your fault, maybe it wasn’t. It doesn’t matter. They are the tiger and you are the boy.

But, gradually, I was growing. No longer was my father someone that I could only see when I craned my neck, he was someone who I could see face to face.

First, I saw anger that I dared stand at his level. No, it was nothing as coherent as that. I would have considered it a miracle if he had a reason, any reason at all to be angry. The anger that I saw was the same anger that I always saw.

It just was that the violence was no longer as effective.

When I turned sixteen, I grew taller than my father. It is a bizarre feeling, looking downwards at the man that was the architect to my bloody childhood.

I remember an argument that we had. What it was over didn’t matter. It was ten in the morning and he was looking for a fight. But, when I looked at him, I saw the dark circle under his eyes. I could see the slight discoloration to his skin and the clueless look upon his face. Now, with his bloated, weakened body, I did not see something that needed to be understood or tamed.

I did not see anything worth my time at all.

After I worked for Charles for my father’s own poor financial decisions, I didn’t see him again. Well, if I did see him again, the expression on his face made it clear that it was not by design; an unfortunate surprise for an endlessly unfortunate man. I saw how he lowered his head when he spoke to me, his pathetic inability to look me in the eye. He feared me because he did not understand me.

He expected the reversal in roles would mean that I would be the one beating him. I could see it in the way he flinched when I shifted my body. It was a retribution that he was constantly running from. But, my fists never reached him.

He didn’t know me at all.

“You’re even smaller now,” I said to the slug that housed my father’s soul.

I felt him squirming in my grasp. His face contorted into an expression of terror as he could feel my shattered claws scrape against his slimy skin.

An animalistic screech left his mouth as he wriggled even harder. Oddly, that in itself was more of a confirmation that was my father than any sort of primal feeling inside me or affirmation from Charles.

“I had to create a quest for the lower levels to try to find him,” Charles informed with a chipper tone. "You wouldn’t even begin to believe how difficult it is to track someone down by spiritual essence. I had to give partial rewards for so many other worthless demons. Oh well, those types make good employees anyways.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” I agreed.

“Tracking down former clients has been something of a hobby for me since I’ve gotten here. I’ve had such heartfelt reunions with folks that wished to never see me again. A few that you sent here personally, might I add.”

The beast carrying my father’s soul struggled again to free itself from even my gentlest of grasps. Its incoherent screeching filled the room like a grotesque infant.

“What are we to do with you?” I asked the universe itself.

As it groaned and sniveled, my eyes caught hold of an important object.

“Ah, of course, how inconsiderate of me, dad,” I said, scolding myself. “It’s no mystery why you are so irritable. I bet you haven’t had anything to drink since you got here. Let’s correct that quickly.”

I pulled the bottle down from the drink stand. With one hand, I pinned down the slug while the other hand doused the liquor over the beast’s face.

It resisted for a moment, twisting its body and hissing from the unwelcome liquid that covered its face. But, as some eventually leaked into his mouth, his attitude changed entirely. Greedily, voraciously, my father began lapping up all of the spilled liquid with his mouth. His body shuddered like a desert beast drinking water for the first time. Slurps and satisfied noises of a mindless beast left his mouth.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

And, with none left on the ground, he began to wail mournfully that he had no more. I tilted the bottle and splashed the liquor on him to bring him more of that fleeing joy.

“I thought maybe that this eternal punishment had stripped you of your humanity and dignity. But, I see now that you never had it to begin with. Tell me, were you born like this or were you actually destroyed like everyone liked to say?”

There was no response. The slug just drank the liquor and then asked happily for more. It was a request that, as a good son, I was willing to oblige.

“Go on, have more,” I encouraged as I tipped the bottle more and more, dumping the endlessly refilling contents onto my dad’s face.

Long gone was the need for freedom and escape. He turned docile on the floor, overjoyed with the treatment he was receiving. In that miniscule mind, broken and twisted into a form that no longer wished for anything, all it felt was kindness from me. I could see it in the eyes. In the expression, I was called benefactor.

But, that oh too easy surrender made me frown. The humiliating exchange that I envisioned fizzled out right before my eyes, leaving some ugly sparks behind.

“Did I one-sidedly assume that you knew who I was?” I asked the boozing slug. “Did you just squirm because I look scary?”

No response. Just a meek squeal for more liquor. And, more liquor I provided with a heavy sigh. It was like I was visiting a person with late stage dementia. This was one-way communication. This place took too much from him and there was not even enough left to fear me as his son.

“I know that you killed yourself when I got arrested,” I told the slug. It shuddered slightly, giving me some small bit of hope that there was some consciousness buried deep inside. “I know that you ran away instead of facing Charles. This is what that got you. Maybe, if you had taken some responsibility once in your life, then you wouldn’t look the way that you do. Maybe, if you had apologized for what you had done and thrown the bottle away, I may have even tried to help you right now.”

I saw Charles raise his brow at my statement. It was the only reaction that I got at all.

“But, you cannot deny that there is fairness to this place. This world knew you had no backbone and gave you a form without it. I wonder if, when you were killed endlessly in the Bowels, that you ever looked up at your eventual killer and wondered if there was something you could have done to stop them from striking you. I hope that you realized that, for a moment, you saw the world through my young eyes. Remember that you couldn’t handle the pain that you gave.”

I stood up and walked away from his hideous form. The issue was that his punishment was too perfect. Too many others took bites out of him before me. There was no other way for him to be in such a state. Even the most pathetic demons in the Bowels never looked this bad. This was a full reduction of form; something I didn’t think possible. Something that I thought was fitting for this kind of man that he was.

“Not going to kill him?” Charles asked with a tilt of his head.

“There’s no room left for me in this,” I stated. “He is no different from a Dungeon monster now.”

“After all that’s happened between the two of you?” He pressed. “You don’t even want to take a Portal with him to let off a little steam?”

“What is there to do? There is nothing behind those eyes. There is no joy to be extracted from killing him now. There will be no resistance from him. Hell, he won’t even understand why I’m ripping him apart. He’ll just be a sniveling mess mewling for mercy in a language that only he knows. You know me better than to think I’d do anything that boring.”

“Then do you not like your reward?”

“Don’t get confused, Charles,” I corrected with a wag of my finger. “I am overjoyed to know what has become of him. Words cannot describe how I felt when I saw him drink that alcohol. Even now, he is still the same. No, it was a wonderful reward. Thank you.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Charles snapped his fingers and a demon walked in and moved to pick up my father. The slug squealed and fought feverishly against the shadow’s grasp. But, with a pour of liquor, he turned into nothing more than a hideous lapdog.

“Would you mind if I kept a hold of him?” Charles requested. “There are a few things that I’d like to try and I think he’d make a nice subject to test them out on. Besides, isn’t it unfair that he never did a single job for me even though it was his debt?”

“I have no further use of him,” I answered bluntly. “Bye, dad, have fun with Charles.”

“Excellent,” Charles said with a smile.

The doors clanked open and the demon took my father out for what may be the last time I ever saw him. It was peculiar how little I ultimately felt seeing him go. I only saw him for a few minutes, I didn’t even get to tell him anything all that special. But, that in itself was more than was necessary. In some strange logic, his mindless form might be the greatest mercy that this place could have given him.

Man no longer, suffer no longer.

“What a pleasant reunion,” Charles said, taking a sip of liquor. “I wonder when my own children will be here. I eagerly await the moment that they drop their knees and beg for the same fortunes that they earned in life.”

“Aren’t you the one that spoiled them?”

“Of course I was,” he laughed. “But, enough of that. I have another job for you.”

I tapped my fingers on my scales. There it was; the attempt to return to normalcy. It was a reestablishment of the status quo. A few gifts, some words of respect, and I was meant to be a dog all over again.

“You know, Charles, in a few ways, you were more my father than my own father was,” I said.

“If you’re asking for a share of the inheritance, you’re going to have to try a different angle than sentimentality. What are you getting at?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” I said with a laugh. “It’s just that I felt a little unfulfilled with my own father. He’s exactly what I hoped, a disappointment. But you, Charles, you’re whole. You’re you. You’re even stronger than you were when we were alive. But, in so many ways, you haven’t changed at all. You still see me as that person you tamed with a leash called debt. It’d be so much more satisfying to take out these feelings of frustration on you.”

Charles’ eyes glowed brightly. The large tentacles that he brandished the last time I was in this room returned. A hostile aura coated each and every one of them as they lashed out, but stopped just short of striking me.

“I thought I already told you, Ishmael. You are either my friend, or you are a casualty,” Charles reminded. “What do you think that you are going to accomplish?”

“I think I can accomplish a surprising amount,” I replied. “I don’t hate you, Charles. I just hate the fact that you think that I’ll be your subordinate again. I have aspirations in this world and I don’t have any interest in being the muscle that drags you to the top. Decide right now, are we partners or are we enemies?”