The Obsession

I remember when she first gave birth to him. I remember holding his frail, new born body. I remember the smoothness and smell of his fragile skin. I remember her dying. I remember so, so much about that day.

Maybe I shouldn't be saying this, maybe I shouldn't be thinking this, but who knows? Maybe someday, it will all be better..or worse, but again, you never know.

He was five years old and supposedly asleep. I was reading Reader's Digest (which, I'll have you know, is very interesting) when he slowly stepped into the room. He looked frightened as he held a little teddy bear.

"Daddy?" he breathes out in fear, "C-Can I..sleep with you? Please? The noise outside is scaring me."

His amber eyes were wide with fear and his grip on the stuffed animal was tightening with each passing moment.

"Sure sweetie." I whisper. I lifted him up onto the bed with me which then came the moment that I realized I was starting to fall in love with this little boy of mine. He was cuddled up next to me, his sweet eyes shut, and his breathing evened. I smile, kiss his forehead..and soon find my lips attached to his.

He's unconscious. This is wrong. This is right. This is forbidden. This is love.

I gently put down the book so it doesn't make much noise, pull him onto my chest and kiss his lips yet again. He's so sweet, so pretty, so young, so understanding of me, so...everything.

I yawn and let sleep take over while keeping a grip on my boy.

It seems like minutes that I only been asleep when Ryan jumps on me.

"Daddy! Wake up, wake up daddy!" he screams while I open my eyes and let out a small yawn.

His skin is luminous in the morning light and his smile is what forever mesmerizes me. Even still to this today, I believe, his smile is the greatest thing I have ever seen in my life.

"I'm up baby." I chuckle.

"Daddy, remember what today is?"

I shake my head, even though I really know what today is. His first day of kindergarten. How could I ever forget? I won't be able to talk to him about things bothering me, I won't be able to watch him, I won't be able to kiss his lips whenever I please, I won't be able to do a lot of things.

"No, what day is it, babe?" I ask, even though I what it is.

"Daddy!" he says with a laugh, "It's school today, remember?"

"Oh, now I do sweetie." I tell him sweetly, "Do you want to get breakfast and stay here or go to school?" I hope he'll choose this breakfast deal; I don't know how'd I ever be able to let my baby go.

He ponders this for a moment, then shakes his head and says to me, "Nope. Daddy, I wanna go to school! I wanna make a friend. That's all I want, daddy."

I sigh. "Okay then, darling. Let's get you ready." He grins and kisses my cheek.

"Thank you daddy." Off he is again, most likely getting some bagel for breakfast or something.

Throwing on some random baseball shirt, a baseball cap, and a pair of over washed jeans; I headed down the stairs to see my angel. Of course, he was there. Watching some TV show.

"Daddy, why isn't mommy here?" he randomly asks when a mother hugs her child in the show playing on the screen.

I take at least fifty deep breaths before replying, "Son, mommy isn't here because she left us to go to the other side of life."

"When will she be back?" he asks innocently.

I cringe but then come up the cliched, "I'll tell you when you're older."

He nods and goes back to watching the TV. I then gently lift him up and place him on my lap. My arms are currently running up and down his; my lips cannot seem to resist the tingling feeling I got when I kissed him last night.. At the time, I did not believe it to be addicting; I just thought it normal.

"Daddy, what are you-" he is cut off by my lips, then I pull him in closer to me. He seems confused at first, but I gently say into his ear, "It's alright. I won't hurt you; I'm doing this because I love you."

Maybe I shouldn't have taken the advantage of the lack of knowledge he had about the real world at the time. Maybe I shouldn't have held his body so deathly close to mine, maybe I shouldn't have kissed him that night. But, it is all 'maybe'.

He calms down against my touch. I stop the kissing when the need for air becomes too great. His forehead is leaning against my chest and my fingers are only slightly underneath his shirt.

"Daddy.." he begins, then goes silent before finishing, "Why did you kiss me like that?"

"Because I love you." I reply while kissing his head.

He sighs. Everything is quiet again and then the clock makes that loud 'ding dong' sound. It's nine right now and it's only four hours to kindergarten.

"Ryan, babe, you need a bath."

He hates hearing those words, but it's true. His hair is greasy, he literally smells like mud, and there's some grass stain on his ankle from the last time he fell off the tire swing.

"Why daddy?" he groans in disapproval.

"Because your hair is greasy, honey."

He heavily sighs and I am left here with a boy who won't agree with the fact. Lifting him up, carrying him up the stairs, ignoring the protests, and starting the tub water. A normal nine o'clock morning routine for me.

"I'm not dirty." he grunts. I grab some clothes for him to wear and strip him of the clothes he is wearing.

"Hon, if you don't cooperate, I will not let you go to school."

His eyes widen in fear at the thought and nods immediately. I grin, kiss him, and strip off my clothes. I go in the tub with him, washing his body with a strawberry scented body wash and hair is washed with a matching strawberry shampoo/conditioner set that the lady next door gave me.

I touch his body a bit, then kiss his chest.

"Daddy?"

"Honey, it's okay; all good dads do this for their sons." I whisper to him.

He lets out a reluctant smile before I get him out of the tub. I take out the plug and the water goes the drain while I get my shivering beauty a towel to dry himself off with. I grab some random towel off the floor; drying myself slowly while watching my angel dry himself and get dressed. Beautiful. Fucking beautiful.

"Daddy, you need to get dressed!" he retorts loudly with a stomp of his foot before he leaves the bathroom.

Grinning to myself at his cuteness, I slowly slip on the clothes I was wearing before and meet my baby downstairs. He is eating some bagel right now. Right now, I want to kiss him.

He apparently is finished now because he is currently pulling at my shirt sleeve and squealing, "Let's go, daddy! I don't wanna be late!"

I just whisper an, "Okay" and follow him out to the car. The ride to the school is silent which is strange for me. He always talks to me. Always. We enter the building hand-in-hand, preparing to meet Mrs. Richardson.

"Hello. You must be George. I am Denise Richardson, his kindergarten teacher." says a woman in her mid twenties or early thirties wearing a blue, conservative sundress with dark brown hair and a bright smile.

Ryan lets go of my hand and runs freely into the room filled with children.

I chat with her for a minute, then exit the building. No, I am not leaving my child here for an hour or two. So, I am going to take the easy way out and wait in my car the whole time.

I was on my phone and had the radio blasting when Ryan came into the car with a huge grin on his face. I got off the phone, turned off the music and faced my beauty.

"Daddy! I made a friend today, daddy. His name is Brent and he is really nice and funny and he was wondering if I could come over to his birthday party next week, daddy. Can I, please? Please?" he begs at the end.

Party? As in other people being able to look, eye, stare, imagine, think, and masturbate to thoughts of my perfectly beautiful son?

No fucking way.

"Hon, we are going to visit grandma that day, remember?"

It's a horrible lie to tell a child. Especially when the grandma is dead. But I cannot risk having my beauty being ogled by every damn perv in this area. No, I cannot risk that. What if he got kidnapped? What if he got raped or killed?

Nope, not worth the risk.

"Oh." he responds, his face sudden at the thought. My mom never really approved of Ryan before she died, so I can see why he isn't so excited.

"Don't worry; you'll be able to see Brent at school every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, honey. At school only." I reassure him.

"Okay daddy." he mutters.

I probably am being overtly protective. I am probably being mildly insane, but who are you to understand what it is like to have a child? Who are you to understand what it is like to be me or to handle the things I have seen happen to other children? Who are you to understand my love for my child?

I never want to lose him to anyone. Not to a friend, a teacher, a relative, a girlfriend/boyfriend, or anything.

But then again, you could never understand...now could you?