This is my take on what would of happened if Cheryl hadn't found out what Seamus had done to Brendan as a child and hadn't arrived to save him from the clutches of their evil father! The first bit is what actually happened, the rest of the story will be my own. It is going to touch on sensitive subjects, so please be warned.
21st March 2013
"You didn't just knock me about though did ya da?" his eyes flickered, staring at the man who had created him leaning on the bar, playing with the bottle of whiskey "Ya abused me"
Shaking his head, he asked "What's going on in that twisted mind of yours?"
"You said it" he took a breath to stop himself from breaking "You said you were sorry, you said you couldn't stop yourself" Seamus closed his eyes, almost as if the words had taken the air from him "Did he do it to you too? Your da?"
"Well it's gotta start from some where don't it?"
"You better shut your sick mouth"
"You know I might be a dirty little queer, but I am twice the man you'll ever be"
"Good on ya, I hope you feel better now getting that off your chest, standing up to your ol' man"
"We both know what you are" Brendan replied. Seamus slammed the whiskey bottle down and turned to face his son
A huge sigh left Seamus' mouth and an evil grin spread from ear to ear "We still have our little secret haven't we, Brenda" Laughing at the fear evident in his sons eyes. Seamus opened his arms "Come here to me"
Brendan shook his head, fear in his words he replied "It's not going to be a secret for much longer da"
"Is that so?"
"Mmm" Brendan nodded his head, the punch to his stomach had surprised him and he doubled over in pain in a small ball on the floor. Fear was rising in his body, sweat building in his palms "Da"
"You know, I think you secretly liked it" Seamus spat
Brendan whimpered in pain "No"
"Yeah, that's why you never told anyone, why you never ran away. You loved the attention" his voice was mocking Brendan, he knew he could take him, he could kill him with his bare hands but he remained frozen on the floor
"Stay away from me, stay away from me" Brendan put his hand up to block his father, unable to look at him, he heard him remove his suit jacket
"Mmm you been a bad boy" Brendan felt the tears stinging his eyes as he became that terrified nine year old little boy again
"No, I haven't" he pleaded, taking a glance at his father as he slowly placed his jacket onto the chair next to him
"And you know what happens..."
"No" Brendan shifted his body along the floor ever so slightly until the wall became so close "No"
"When you been a bad boy" Seamus grabbed his collars and pulled him up the wall slightly.
"No dad please, please Da"
"I am going to enjoy this Brenda".
Brendan shifted along the floor to his clothes and dragged them from where they lay and pulled them towards himself, never once looking at the man doing his trousers up, hovering above him. Tears left his eyes as he hastily dressed. "What's that Brenda?" his father asked as he crouched down in front of him "Crying... You really are a little girl deep down, ain't ya?" he twisted his head as he looked at his son, grabbing his chin he forced his face upwards "I said, ain't ya?". Brendan still unable to form words nodded slightly against his father's hand. He pushed him back against the wall and smiled "I never did anything you didn't deserve, that you didn't ask for, did I?". Seamus frowned "I said, I didn't do anything you didn't want, did I?" Brendan nodded again and Seamus rose to his feet "There's a good boy" he smirked "How long will it take you to be bad boy again eh?"
"I won't, I swear it Da"
"Mmm, we will see"
"Shut up, you filthy queer"
Brendan instantly went silent and Seamus pulled his jacket on and laughed. He crouched down in front of his son again "Just remember I am here the second you step out of line". Brendan nodded "You don't want to disappoint Daddy do ya?". Brendan shook his head and Seamus rose to his feet "Sort yourself out, you look a mess".
Seamus walked to the bar and grabbed the bottle of whiskey before heading out of the club. Brendan pulled himself into a sitting position and leant his head onto his knees. He chocked back the lump in his throat and closed his eyes. "Bad boy" he whispered "Bad boy" his voice getting ever so slightly louder as he repeated the words, over and over again. "Brenda is a bad boy" he shouted as he stood up, he dragged his arms across the bar, pushing its content to the floor. He picked up a barstool and chucked it at the mirror behind the bar, watching it smash. He moved round the bar and began smashing the glasses on the shelves.
A few minutes later Brendan starred at his reflection in the smashed mirror. He sunk down onto the floor and tears took him, as he buried his face into his hands. Damaged, broken, he felt his whole body ache as he tried to process what had just happened to him.