(You know shizz about to go down when I add music. That being said, this chapter's kind of dark so... blood warning.)

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12 years ago...

"Martha please. Please don't go." Miles watched as his father clung to his mother's leg, pleading and crying hysterically. He had never seen his father in such a state, it made him cry too. He didn't fully comprehend what was happening, but he understood that his mother was leaving. His mother simply looked on at him in disgust, thinking the man clinging to her was nothing but a pathetic excuse of a man. His father continued to plead with her, his words strangled and desperate. He had never seen his father act like this before; so helpless.

"I'll change - I swear. I'll stop drinking, I'll get a job. I promise. I promise you I'll change."

She pushed him off, "You said that before, Nick! You keep making promises you can't keep. I can't do this anymore. I can't live like this. I deserve better."

Her words quieted his father as he wallowed in shame on the floor in front of her. His mother sent one last look towards her son. She bit her lip and tore her eyes away from him, before slamming the door and leaving them forever. Nothing but his father's cries and the echo of the door slamming shut rang in his ears.

8 years ago...

Just like his mother said, his father hadn't changed. He kept on drinking. He only got worse as the years went on. They were forced to move to a shitty neighborhood because his father couldn't afford the rent. His father could barely keep a stable job, so Miles helped out any way he could. He babysat, mowed lawns, took any job he could that would help out his father's family situation.

But no matter how many jobs he took on - his father still beat him. His father blamed Miles for being the reason his mother left. He took his anger out on his own son. Anything would set him off. Unwashed dishes, bad grades, even looking his way and he would get a hard right hook to his face. He soon became numb to the pain over the years, and didn't dare oppose his father. He even started to believe that he was the reason his mother left. He believed every word his father would call him. Worthless. Pathetic. The only time he could truly be himself was around his friend, Charlie. The only time he could truly smile and mean it, was around Charlie. Charlie's house was like his second home.

Charlie didn't know about his situation. He didn't need to. Miles always came up with an excuse for why he always had bruises on his face. He soon used makeup to cover up his wounds so people would stop asking about them. He was ashamed. He didn't want people to treat him any differently. He didn't want their pity. He just wanted to feel normal, accepted. The only time he felt normal was at school. He made as many friends as possible to fill the empty hole in his heart his father had made. To distract him from the pain of his father's fists. He soon found himself faking each smile, faking the personality everyone came to love. At one point, he himself started to believe who he pretended to be. He was Miles Sawyer, the golden boy who was charming and easy going. He loved being loved, because for the first time in a long time, he felt that he was important. Not useless, or pathetic like his father had said. His smile and words had an effect on others around him, and they weren't used to hurt and torture.

1 year ago...

He had been living in his facade for years. He had grown accustomed to it. Until that one day, his best friend just had to tell him he was gay. He didn't have a problem with that, he couldn't care less with what gender he was attracted to.

It was the fact Charlie's family had accepted him for who he truly was.

He was jealous. His father would never accept him for who he was. His father was a very traditional man, he always made it perfectly clear that he wouldn't have a son as a faggot. He made it perfectly clear his son wouldn't be his son anymore if that were the case. His father wouldn't love him anymore. His father... would leave him just like his mother had all those years ago.

So Miles lashed out, he pushed away his only friend and tormented him just like his father had. He pushed away the one person who truly cared about him because he was scared. Scared because he too, was gay. And he would never be accepted. He had tried to convince himself that wasn't the case. He tried to be the man his father wanted him to be. He dated so many girls. He had sex with so many girls. He knew he wasn't attracted to any of them; but he made himself believe he was, for his father's sake. So when Charlie told him he was gay. When Charlie admitted the one thing Miles had wanted to admit for such a long time, he finally snapped. He took out his anger on his friend. He felt the need to bring someone down along with him.

And that would only make Miles hate himself more than he already did.

Present...

Adonis was the real Miles. The Miles he had pushed away all those years ago. The Miles that always wanted to do and say what was on his mind, the Miles who wanted to be himself. The Miles who wanted so desperately to hurt his father for all those years of mental and psychical abuse. So maybe that's why Miles had let him take control, why he wasn't fighting as much to take control of his body anymore. A part of himself was relieved. Relieved that he wouldn't have to pretend to be so perfect anymore. So Miles only let Adonis do the one thing he had wanted to do for a very long time.

Adonis sat on the couch, staring at the tv in front of him. He wasn't surprised when his father burst through the door and pulled him up by the collar, shoving his phone in his face, screaming,

"What the hell is this?!" Adonis could feel the spit on his face. He boringly stared into the face of his father. His face was red with anger, a few veins sporting from his neck. His hand gripped the fabric of his shirt, twisted it in such a way that made his knuckles turn white. Adonis's eyes wandered to the phone screen. It was a video of what had happened at school earlier today. Of him admitting he was gay. It spread rather quickly. His father must of seen it and raced home.

"So you're a fucking faggot, huh?!" His father threw his phone across the room, so it slammed against the wall. He took his free hand to grip Adonis's collar with both hands. "I didn't raise my son like that. Maybe I oughta beat it out of you!"

He raised a fist to collide with his son's face, only for it to be caught. He was stunned. Adonis has caught his fist. His father's temper only flared as he tried to use his other fist, but it too was also caught. Adonis gripped his wrists tightly, so tightly that his father winced at the pain that shot down his arms. Adonis gripped his right arm and twisted it at such a sharp angle until he heard a crack. His father gasped in pain and fell to his knees, holding his now broken arm in horror. He looked up at his son, frozen at the dark pit in his eyes, at the sadistic smile that was painted across his face. Adonis wasn't satisfied. He would make sure this man would suffer before he granted him the release of death. He would make him feel the pain he had felt all these years. He wanted to see him helpless. Him useless. Him pathetic. He wanted to see him cry a pathetic mess as a fury of fists rained down at him, begging him to stop.

He gripped his hair in his hands, and pulled his head forward so it collided with his knee. His father groaned and held his nose as it poured blood. His father tried to scramble away, staggering to his feet as he stumbled towards the door. Adonis didn't give him a chance to walk a single step as he kicked the back of his knees, sending him flying to the floor on his stomach. He slowly stepped towards him, his father continuing to attempt to drag himself away with his free arm. He screamed in agony as his broken arm was very harshly tugged and dragged towards the kitchen. The pain was unbearable. Tears ran down his face and mixed with the blood, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth as he pleaded with his son, "P-Please! I'm sorry!"

His words didn't reach his son's ears. It was far too late for apologies. Far too late to fix the damage that's already been dealt. He had made his son into a monster. He would die at the hands of a monster. When he realized that pleading wouldn't get him anywhere, he swore and cursed him instead, aiming to hurt him, "Fucking faggot piece of shit! You're not my son."

He was simply pulled up to his feet. He was held up by his collar. Adonis only bore holes into his eyes, and his father almost believed he had gotten through to him, prepared to insult and berate him more, to bring him back down to the sorry excuse of a man he truly was. But Adonis wasn't that man. Horror quickly replaced his father's features as he sadistically smiled. His father watched as Adonis's arm glided towards the knife on the kitchen counter. His fingers slithered around the handle. His father squirmed as he realized what Adonis was planning to do. He panicked, trying to release himself from the deadly grip he was trapped in; but to no avail.

Adonis brought the knife to the center of the man's abdomen, "You're not my father." He calmly clarified, before plunging the knife deep into the man's stomach. The man coughed out blood, and clenched his teeth in pain as Adonis twisted the knife to inflict further pain. The man's eyes were misty as he delivered one final insult to Adonis, "You're a monster."

Adonis smiled in return, "I know."

He pulled out the knife, and pushed the man back onto the floor. The man held his gaping wound that poured blood. He soon laid in a pool of his own blood, and he continued gasping for air as he could feel himself slipping. Adonis watched as the light from his eyes soon disappeared; and he layed limp.

Adonis stared at the body in front of him for a long time. The blood dripped off the end of the knife and onto the floor, filling the silence. A bitter metallic scent wafted through the air. Adonis lifted up his hands that were stained with his father's blood. He grimaced, such a mess.

He worked to take care of the mess, humming a tune. He made sure not a single piece of evidence was left behind, that nothing could be traced back to him. He waited until dark to bring his father's body deep into the woods far out of town, burying his body in a spot far from where anyone would find him. When he got home he scrubbed the floor with bleach to be rid of the stain. He disposed of the knife, and burned his clothes, making sure not a single trace of his father was left. When all was done, Adonis took a hot shower. Blood and dirt hurried down the drain.

The death of his father was long overdue. Miles was too much of a coward to do it, so Adonis only did what was necessary. Adonis thought of the man as nothing but a burden. He would only get in his way in the long run. He found it strange that Miles's voice hasn't said a word since. He was quiet. He was quiet because he, too, was relieved. Relieved he wouldn't have to try and impress a father that never cared for him in the first place. His father was dead. His mother was gone. Both his parents were gone. He had no family left. All he really had was Adonis. Adonis was better fitted for this world, anyway. Adonis knew how to protect himself. Adonis deserved this body more than he did. Once Miles came to that understanding, he stopped fighting. He buried himself deep into his mind, and let himself wither away.

Miles, too, was gone.

Adonis stepped out of the shower and stared into the mirror. There was only one soul looking back at him now. Only one pair of eyes that finally belonged to him. This body was his now. No more Miles, just Adonis. His mind was finally clear, he could finally focus on his thoughts and his thoughts alone.

And his thoughts were filled with Lucas.

He stepped out of the bathroom and into his room. He slowly closed the door shut behind him, locking it behind him. He switched on the light, smiling at the sight before him. Pictures upon pictures of his beloved Lucas were taped to the walls. There was no space untouched, he was everywhere. Adonis didn't let him out of his sight even once. He couldn't bare it. His obsession only grew as the days passed. His obsession. His craving. His lust. Truth be told, he killed his father because he would only get in the way of their love. Adonis couldn't have that.

Adonis walked over to his bed, taking a seat. He opened his laptop and rested it on his lap. On the screen was a live camera footage recording every inch of Lucas's house. Adonis zoomed in on the particular camera recording Lucas's bedroom. He caressed the screen lovingly as he watched Lucas sleep.

Adonis much preferred the real thing. It was time he put his plan into motion. It was time he truly made Lucas his.