My Life as Dad's Living Deterrent

My name is Gabriel Wilson, and my sister is Isabelle Wilson. Growing up, Dad runs our house by making an example out of me. In elementary school, whenever Isabelle misses a single math problem on her homework, Dad forces me to write it out a hundred times. I scribble until my fingers cramp into a knot and I can barely grip the pen, which terrifies Isabelle so much that she stops making careless mistakes altogether. During middle school, Isabelle uses her allowance to buy a ten-dollar bag of snacks for a boy she likes, and the moment Dad finds out, he slashes my monthly allowance from 1,200 dollars down to a measly 200 dollars. For the next month, I survive entirely on cheap, stale bread until I'm rushed to the ER for throwing up bile. Even so, Dad only relents when Isabelle breaks down in tears and promises never to waste another dime. When college rolls around, Isabelle insists on applying to the police academy. Dad tries to talk her out of it, but when he realizes she won't budge, he tells her, "You want to be a cop? Fine. Let me show you what real cops actually have to deal with." He wipes my social security number from the system, stages my disappearance to look like a kidnapping, and dumps me right in the middle of a serial killer's hunting ground. I spend days confined in an abandoned cabin, calling for help until my voice goes hoarse. Blood begins to pool beneath my feet as the serial killer slices my skin with a rusted blade. Back home, Isabelle frantically begs Dad for my tracker. "Dad, please!" she screams. "Just tell me where Gabriel is! I won't join the police force, okay? I'll drop the whole thing!" Even though I'm just on the other side of the wall from them, I can no longer make a sound. My soul drifts in midair as I watch Isabelle collapse onto the floor in despair, sobbing. Dad, I'm done letting you make an example out of me. Chapter 1 The metallic taste of blood surged up from the back of my throat. I clawed at the gaps in the well's brick wall, having already ripped off two of my fingernails. Every brick my fingers touched was slick with mud and my own blood. Half my body dangled over the water, suspended above a freezing, pitch-black abyss. If I let myself slip for even a second, I would drown. But I couldn't die. Voices drifted down from above. Even through the echo of the 30-foot-deep well, I recognized my sister, Elizabeth Wilson's voice instantly. She was shaking. "Dad, where's the tracker? Just tell me, please. I'm begging you!" Dad's voice came next, carrying his usual chilly composure. "Promise me you won't join the police academy, and I'll tell you." "Dad, stop pushing me!" Isabelle practically screamed, her voice cracking with emotion. At the bottom of the well, I parted my lips, desperate to tell her not to give in. But nothing came out. I only had a ragged stump left where my tongue used to be. The killer had taken a dull blade to it. He had sawed it back and forth in my mouth until it finally cut through my tongue. It hurt so badly that eventually, the pain just went numb. Blood kept welling up, pouring down my throat and choking me until I could barely breathe. That was why I couldn't make a sound. Tears spilled from the corners of my eyes and pooled in the folds of my ears, feeling both cool and itchy. I didn't know if I was crying for myself or for Elizabeth. It had been this way for as long as I could remember. If Isabelle came home a minute late, I took a hundred lashes. If she read a book for fun, I was forced to copy a hundred literary classics by hand. If she had mentioned she wasn't hungry, I would've been starved for days. Dad never punished Isabelle directly. He only punished me because he knew she cared about me. As long as he held me hostage, Isabelle would never escape the palm of his hand. Ever since Mom died in the line of duty, Dad had been consumed by paranoia. He claimed he couldn't lose Isabelle too, so he used every method imaginable to keep her tied to him, even if it meant destroying me. This time was no different. Three days ago, that serial killer moved me from the abandoned cabin to the underground well. He cut out my tongue, sliced me up, and threw me down here, planning to come back for my corpse once I died. But before he could finish the job, the cops caught him. I had held on for two days and one night, losing track of how much blood I'd lost. The well walls were smeared with my bloody handprints. When my nails snapped, I kept digging with my raw fingertips. When my fingers turned to mush, I wedged my forearms into the cracks. I dragged myself up, inch by grueling inch. I kept fighting because Dad had promised that if I made it out alive, he'd let Isabelle join the police academy. That was his only condition. I knew better than anyone how badly she wanted to be a cop. It was Mom's dying wish, and it had been Isabelle's dream since she was a little girl. I had held her back too many times. For once, I wanted her to be able to choose her own life. So, I couldn't die. Suddenly, the tunnel of light at the top of the well widened. My uncle, Harrison Wilson's voice cut through the air, booming with rage. "Benjamin, you've completely lost your mind!" Heavy footsteps thudded above, followed by the sound of something being shoved aside. Uncle Harrison's voice got closer to the opening of the well. "The tracker's pinging right here! Your son is down there! How could you throw your own flesh and blood into a well? Are you even human?" Light flooded the chasm, but it vanished just as quickly. Dad had slammed the well cover shut again. Chapter 2 The light above me vanished. A heavy engine roared to life overhead. Dad had started the car and driven it straight over the well cover. The tires groaned against the wood, showering my face with dust. "Dad, what are you doing?" Isabelle yelled, her voice laced with panic. Dad remained completely unfazed. "Nobody is letting him out. Rip up that admission letter, or the car stays put." "Benjamin, you've lost your mind!" yelled Uncle Harrison. "What's the matter with you?" Dad actually sounded amused as he explained, "The kidnapper is already behind bars. Before he even brought Gabriel to this hideout, I'd already had undercover cops stake out the perimeter. He's perfectly safe. You're all making a scene like he's actually dead." Huddled at the bottom of the dark well, I couldn't stop shaking as I listened to him. All Dad cared about was the sting operation and whether the bad guy was caught. But he had forgotten that we were in the middle of nowhere. It took a full 24 hours for the nearest squad car to get here. Did he have any idea what I went through during those 24 hours? Did he know how many times that rusty blade sliced into my skin? And when the killer was cutting out my tongue, I had screamed for Dad. Did he hear me at all? My fingers scraped against the brick until I managed to pry loose stone. Gripping it tightly, I used the last ounce of my strength to tap against the wooden cover above me. Thump, thump, thump. Uncle Harrison's voice boomed, "He's alive! Gabriel is alive! Benjamin, did you hear that? Move the car!" "Good," Dad replied, his voice completely flat. "Isabelle, you heard your uncle. Gabriel is fine. The second you tear up that admission letter, I'll move the car. Otherwise, nobody is getting him out of there." I heard Elizabeth's heavy, ragged breathing. "Dad, I'm begging you… Let him out of there. He's hurt. He needs to get to a hospital—" "Tear up the admission letter, and I'll let him out," Dad insisted. Uncle Harrison's voice boomed, rattling the opening of the well, "Benjamin, how could you be so cruel?" "You think I'm the bad guy here? I raised these kids entirely on my own!" Dad snapped, his voice rising an octave. "Their mother died on the job and left me to hold this family together. Why do you think I did it? Just to watch Isabelle throw her life away for the police force? "Listen up, Isabelle. You either tear up that letter today, or you can stand right there and watch Gabriel die at the bottom of this well!" A suffocating silence fell over the place. When Isabelle spoke next, the panic and despair in her voice were gone. Instead, she sounded eerily calm. "Fine." The sound of footsteps echoed above me. All of a sudden, Uncle Harrison gasped. "Isabelle, what are you doing with that sickle?" Isabelle's voice drifted down the well as she enunciated, "Dad, move the car and let Gabriel out right now, or I'm dying with him." "You—" "Try me." My heart seized. I wanted to scream, to tell her not to do something so stupid, but the only sound that came from my throat was the faint gurgling of blood. I couldn't even manage a whisper. I slammed my fist against the wooden cover, pounding until my knuckles went numb. I didn't want Isabelle to do this. I didn't want her to ruin her life for me. Dad went quiet for a few seconds. Then, I heard the metallic click of a car key turning in the ignition. He let out a heavy sigh. "Fine. I'll move it. Just put the sickle down." All of a sudden, a sharp crack cut through the air, making everyone freeze in their tracks. Dad stood by the driver's side door, holding the snapped half of the car key in his fingers. He looked up, his expression blank. "Oops, it's broken," he said. Both Uncle Harrison and Isabelle were utterly stunned. Down at the bottom of the well, my tears spilled over, stinging the open wounds covering my face. Chapter 3 Above the well, Uncle Harrison's shouting grew louder and more frantic. "Benjamin, you've lost your mind! Gabriel's life is on the line here. Let's just get him out first!" "For what?" Dad's voice cracked. "So he can watch my daughter go kill herself on the force?" The two men scuffled over the sickle. Uncle Harrison let out a panicked cry. "What the hell are you doing?" "Stay back! Both of you!" Dad panted heavily. "Benjamin, put the sickle down!" Uncle Harrison yelled. Dad laughed. The sound echoed down the well, warped and sounding more like a sob. "If someone has to die with Gabriel, it might as well be me. What do I have left to live for anyway? My wife died when I was young, and now that I'm old, my daughter wants to die, too. What was the point of all my sacrifice, huh? For what?" A heavy thud shook the top of the well. He had sat right down on the wooden cover. The boards groaned and sagged under his weight, sending a shower of dirt and gravel raining down on my head. Instinctively, I raised a hand to wipe my eyes, and my fingertips lost their grip on the crevices. My body plummeted. The freezing well water surged past my waist, submerging me to my chest. I thrashed wildly, my hands clawing blindly in the dark, but my fingernails merely scraped against the slick, muddy walls. I couldn't get a grip on anything. The muffled sounds of my splashing echoed up the well. Uncle Harrison's voice sounded tense. "Gabriel? Gabriel!" I opened my mouth, but only a mouthful of blood poured out. With my tongue mangled, I couldn't form a single intelligible sound. Nothing came out of the depths of my throat but a raw, muffled cry. "Gabriel fell in the water!" Uncle Harrison screamed. Dad's voice grew cold and dismissive. "He's just trying to guilt you, Isabelle. Don't fall for it." "Dad…" Isabelle gasped, her voice cracking. "Just let me check on him, please!" "Rip up the admission letter first." The edge of the sickle clicked sharply against the wooden planks. "I'm counting to three," said Dad. "If you don't tear it up, I'm swinging this down. One—" "Fine! I'll do it!" Isabelle finally screamed. The sound of shredding paper drifted down the well. It felt as though the very air in the well was growing thinner with every piece that fell. Isabelle's voice was trembling. "Dad, can you move the car now?" Submerged in the freezing water, every single inch of my body throbbed with agony. The well water soaked into my open wounds, stinging as if someone were rubbing salt into the raw flesh. Once again, I had become a weight around Isabelle's neck. But Dad wasn't done yet. "Now take that pistol the academy issued you and throw it down the mountain. Do it right now." At this, Uncle Harrison exploded with fury. "If she loses that pistol, she won't be able to make it through the police academy!" Dad remained utterly unfazed. "She already tore up the letter, so what does she need a pistol for? Throw it, or this sickle goes down right now." "Dad," Isabelle said, her voice shaking. "Are you really going to keep pushing until there's nothing left of us?" At the bottom of the well, my movements grew slower and weaker. My fingers could no longer grip the stones, and my legs refused to tread water. The freezing liquid rushed into my nose and mouth, tasting of mud and the metallic tang of blood. My body felt heavier by the second, as if something were dragging me under, inch by inch. The voices overhead drifted further away, blurring into an indistinguishable hum. I could no longer make out what they were saying. I knew right then that I wasn't going to make it. This time, Dad finally got exactly what he wanted. He had sacrificed my life just to burn Isabelle's future to the ground. All I wanted to do was apologize to Isabelle. In the next life, I wouldn't be a burden to her anymore. Chapter 4 Finally, Uncle Harrison shoved Dad aside. "Move! The tow truck's already on its way. You're not stopping me!" Dad stumbled, slamming hard against the car door. An engine rumbled in the distance. A yellow truck rounded the corner, kicking up a massive cloud of dust. Uncle Harrison ran toward the road, waving his arms until the truck pulled up right next to the well. The driver jumped out of the truck and immediately started hooking up the steel towing cables. Isabelle knelt by the opening, frantically clawing away the loose gravel. Her voice had gone completely hoarse. "Gabriel, the truck's here! Just hang on a little longer!" The cables snapped taut, and the winch began to crank. The car frame shuddered before gradually shifting sideways. The wooden cover finally came into view. Uncle Harrison rushed over, tearing the heavy boards away. The well lay completely open, allowing the midday sun to pour down into the darkness. At the very bottom, my body floated face-up in the dilapidated well. My eyes were half-closed, and my lips had turned deep purple. "Gabriel!" Isabelle leaned so far over the edge that her upper body dangled into the opening. She turned to Uncle Harrison, her eyes bloodshot. "The rope! Give me the rope!" Uncle Harrison had already grabbed a rescue line from the truck, tied a loop at the end, and lowered it down the well. If I could just raise my hands, grab it, and loop it around my torso, they could pull me out. But I didn't budge. Uncle Harrison panicked. "Gabriel, come on! Just take the rope!" Standing a few feet away, Dad let out a scoff. "He's known how to swim since he was a kid. Do you really think he'd drown in a well? He's obviously faking it." Isabelle whipped her head around, staring at him in utter disbelief. Floating in the freezing water, I wanted to cry, but no tears came. After two days and a night of bleeding out, I had nothing left inside me. The tow truck driver leaned into the well, lowering a rope ladder. All of a sudden, Dad's tone turned ice-cold. "Nobody goes down there to help him. If he wants to live, he can climb out of there himself. I've seen this routine a thousand times. It won't work on me." Uncle Harrison stepped up, swung his arm, and punched Dad in the face. The heavy thud echoed through the mountain. Dad's head snapped to the side. He cupped his jaw, the shock in his eyes morphing into pure rage. "That was for Catherine. If she could see what you've done to her son, she'd destroy you herself," Uncle Harrison uttered through clenched teeth. "Stop us, and we'll make sure you rot in a cell for the rest of your life." Dad shut his mouth. Without a second thought, Uncle Harrison turned around, grabbed the rope ladder, and scrambled down the well. He reached the bottom, wrapped his arms around me, and hauled me out of there. Water poured from my clothes, splashing loudly into the body of water below. Resting against his chest, I felt weightless. Uncle Harrison looked down at me. "Gabriel?" He gave me a hard shake, his voice cracking. My head lolled to the side, totally unresponsive. With a trembling hand, Uncle Harrison pressed two fingers against the side of my neck, checking for any sign of life, but he couldn't feel a thing. His lips started to twitch. Warm tears spilled from his eyes, dripping onto my skin. Uncle Harrison snapped his head up, roaring toward the sky, "Benjamin, he's not breathing!" Above us, the scene fell dead silent. I floated in midair and saw Dad standing by the well. In an instant, his face went completely pale.