Unbreakable Faith - 4. Chapter 4

Unbreakable Faith
Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The miracle his father spoke of did occur and his speech for church was completed come Saturday. As they sat at the breakfast table his father went over what he wanted done that day.

“You are to copy down the book of Revelations. What you don’t get done today you can work on tomorrow and continue to work on until it’s done. I’ve noticed lately that your penmanship is getting sloppy. You certainly don’t need to advertise your haphazard half asked ways. You’ll continue to write chapters of the bible until I feel it has improved.”

Ian looked down at his still bandaged hands. He wondered how his father still expected him to write perfectly when his hands were so stiff he could barely hold the pen. “Yes sir.” He was left alone which was an incredibly rare thing about twenty minutes later. He sat at the table with the bible on one side of him and his notebook on the other.

He sat there all morning his hand aching more and more as he filled page after page of his notebook. He didn’t get up to go to the bathroom until well after one then returned, as ordered to the table to continue to write. He knew if he didn’t get enough done his father would think he’d not sat there all day, but knew if it was messy there would be just as much punishment to endure. Despite the ache in his hand that stretched up his arm and into his neck and head he continued to write. The sun was just beginning to set when the front door opened and he heard footsteps coming into the house.

His eyes widened as his mother walked past the door followed directly by a little boy. The boy looked to be about five years old and had short curly brown hair. After they’d walked past, his father came into the dining room. The notebook was snatched out from under his hand as his father sat down and inspected the work.

Dying of curiosity he worked up every last ounce of courage he had and opened his mouth. “Sir, who’s that boy?”

His father’s eyes flashed up to him and Ian quickly lowered his. “That is your new brother.”

“You adopted someone else?” he flinched as his father moved his hand suddenly, then sighed discreetly when he realized it was not moving up to hit him.

“You think you are the only one whose parents didn’t want him? Don’t you think maybe there are more people in the world that need help besides your sorry self?”

Ian nodded. He couldn’t quite figure out his feelings. He almost felt jealous that someone else was coming into the family. Felt that maybe this new kid would be everything his parents had ever prayed for, making him feel even more inferior than he already did. But he also felt fear. Fear that the kid would get the same treatment he’d gotten all these years. He wasn’t so sure he could stand to see it happening to someone else. Especially a little boy who had no means of defending himself and who more than likely had no idea of the hell he could be facing.

His father held the notebook up then dropped it back onto the table. “This is a mess. What in the world is the matter with you? Why can’t you even do one thing I ask? Is it that hard to write legibly?”

Ian glanced up at him then refocused his eyes on the man’s chest. “It’s just cause my hand hurts sir.” After a painful punch to the face Ian cursed himself figuring he should have known better than to say that.

“Do you think Jesus had anyone to go crying to? Do you think anyone coddled him after he was whipped and beaten then left to die on that cross?”

Ian quickly shook his head. “No sir, I’m sorry.”

“You will be, go cut a switch.”

He ended up spending the night on the couch with instructions to bring a bed up from the basement for the boy to sleep in the next day. He didn’t learn the boy’s name, didn’t even see him again until the next morning.

They all sat down to breakfast and his mother filled all their bowls with the slimy oatmeal. The little boy looked up at her, down at the bowl, then back up at her. “I don’t like oatmeal ma’am.”

Ian cringed wishing he could talk telepathically, and send the kid a message to just shut up and eat.

“We don’t talk at the table young man.” His father stated eyeing the boy.

“But I don’t like it.”

Ian kept his head down praying for the boy to just give up and eat it.

“You talk one more time and you’ll be one sorry young man.”

“But...” Ian flinched as his father’s chair scraped back across the floor. In a flutter of movement caught out of the corner of his eye he saw the man yank the boy up by his arm then carry the screaming child upstairs. The screams only got louder as Ian heard the sound of leather meeting flesh. He had all he could do not to start bawling himself. He hated to picture such a small boy at the hands of his father’s incredible rage.

“You eat,” his mother ordered.

Though sick to his stomach Ian picked up his spoon and slowly began to force the food in as the screams continued on the second floor. He got the last bite down as his father returned to the table. “After you help your mother with the dishes go up and get him ready for church. Then I suggest you practice your speech until it’s time to go to the church.”

Ian nodded feeling more anger toward the man than perhaps he’d ever felt in his entire life. He couldn’t understand how someone could be so mean all of the time. When it was only him it just didn’t seem the same. But when he saw and heard him doing it with someone else it angered him. Something he was sure he’d never be able to express.

He walked into his room twenty minutes later to find the boy curled up in a ball on his bed. He was still crying and had his arms wrapped tightly around his legs his pants still around his knees. Never having had to deal with someone that age Ian grew nervous having no idea of how to handle the situation but knowing he had to or his own rear would be glowing like the kid’s was.

He sat down on the side of the bed and shakily reached a hand out and put it to the boy’s hot and sweaty forehead. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

“No,” the boy whimpered out. “I don’t want to stay here anymore.”

Ian nodded the feeling mutual. He remembered being that little. Remembered being in that much pain and remembered wanting nothing more than to leave. He wasn’t sure when he’d resided himself to staying there but at some point over the years he had. “I don’t think you have any choice. Once you are here, you are here. You just got to do what they say. You just have to try and be a good boy.” His eyes stung as he said it, praying the boy would do a better job at being good than he had.

The boy pressed his chin down against his chest as a few more tears trickled out of his eyes.

“What’s your name?” Ian asked, sure he’d never dare ask his father or mother.

“Tony.” the kid answered quietly.

“That’s a good name. Like the tiger.”

Tony moved his head again and looked up at Ian. A slight smile crossed his tear stained face. “I guess. What’s your name?”

“Ian.”

“You’s lived here long?”

“Well we’ve been here for about seven years.”

“We? You’s mean you and them?”

Ian nodded.

“How longs you been with them?”

“Fourteen years.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “But you’s not their real kid are’s ya?”

“No they adopted me like they adopted you.” Tony nodded as he turned his head and faced up to the ceiling.

“We have to get you up and dressed. We have to get ready for church.”

“Church!” the kid laughed out loud. “Church sucks.”

Ian’s eyes widened and he quickly put his hand over the boy’s mouth. “Never let anyone hear you say that Tony, if you think what you just got was bad then you don’t want to know what would happen if he hears you saying anything like that.”

“But it does,” he said as soon as Ian took his hand away.

“First thing to learn is to keep your opinions to yourself.”

He managed to get Tony who struggled against every process ready. He hated to think of the beatings that the kid was facing if he continued to behave this way. When they finally got back downstairs Ian stood in the living room and read his speech through at least five times while his father picked at every little thing he considered wrong. With no time left his father stood up. “You better do it better there or you know what will happen.”

“Yes sir,” Ian already knew it would happen either way. A day never went by when he wasn’t punished for one thing or another. At church the good reverend told of him and his wife’s great deed of taking in another needy child. How it was a good thing to think of more than oneself and help those less fortunate. A spiel Ian had heard too many times to count.

Near the end of the service his father motioned him to the front of the church not on the pulpit but on the bottom step leading up to it. “My son has prepared a speech today. He learned the hard way this week what can happen when one doesn’t pay attention in class, after punishment and guidance he has written this speech to warn others of the sin he committed this week.”

Ian’s face, already red, looked down at his paper as he stood in front of the gawking parishioners. He was scared to death and could feel sweat trickling down his chest, neck and back. He’d been right the week before. It was terrifying to be standing up here in front of this crowd. A crowd he knew hated him, a crowd that had seen his naked ass getting a thorough punishment not quite five years earlier.

After a moment of self assurance, then just blocking out his surroundings he read his speech. His voice rose and fell where he felt it appropriate and he made as much eye contact as possible. He could feel everyone’s eyes boring into him. Could see it during the moments he looked around the room though he didn’t stop long enough to actually focus on anyone’s face. No one clapped as the speech wrapped up, no one seemed to have been affected by it one way or another. He was tempted to yell out ‘praise Jesus’ just to get a reaction, but knew the reaction from his father wouldn’t be good at all.

After setting up the extra bed in his room while Tony sat on the other bed, their father walked in his belt already folded over in his hands. “That was the worst delivery of a speech I have ever heard. How do you plan on having people hear and believe in God’s word if you don’t even sound like you believe it yourself?”

Ian who’d turned to him as he walked in shook his downcast head. “I’m sorry sir,”

“I’m real sick of hearing your sorry’s. Sorry’s only go so far. Why don’t you for once just try and do something right?”

Ian shook his head again. “I don’t know.”

“Take down your pants and lean over the bed.”

Not needed to be asked twice Ian undid his pants and slid them down to his ankles. He turned and placed his hands flat out on the bed burning with shame as he could feel Tony’s eyes on him. He was used to his mother witnessing such a thing but was not at all comfortable with Tony seeing it. The belt did its work on his butt, the thing lashing at him for twenty minutes, Ian having kept track as he was facing the alarm clock.

“You two stay in here until I come and get you.” Richard Weaver ordered as he turned and left the room.

After a minute of regaining his senses Ian slowly stood up and very gingerly pulled up his pants. He walked over to the side of the new bed and lay down on his side facing the wall not having it in him to look at Tony. He hugged his arms around himself and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“You okay?” he heard Tony say behind him. He jumped a little as the boy’s small hand came down on his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he muttered feeling even more shame.

“I liked your speech. I thoughted you did reals good.”

Ian moved his hand up onto Tony’s not able to help the small smile that came to his face. “Thanks Tony. I appreciate that.” Tony’s hand moved from under his. He heard his footfalls crossing the floor then looked up as Tony was now standing on the other side of the bed.

The boy lifted up a knee then crawled onto the bed. He rolled onto his side so he was facing Ian and put his head down a few inches from Ian’s face. Neither said a word. Tony didn’t have to. What he’d done and the way he looked told Ian that this little boy cared at least a little bit about him. Cared enough to ask, and cared enough to stay here on the bed to keep him company.

They weren’t called back downstairs until dinner time. Tony not having learned his lesson that morning immediately announced that he didn’t like spinach. Ian glanced at his father who in turn looked back at him. “Go cut a switch.”

Ian’s mouth dropped open wondering why he was going to be punished.

“Not for you stupid boy, for him.”

Closing his mouth Ian realized this was even worse than his original assumption. “No,” he said flatly, surprising himself and scaring the hell out of him but knowing he absolutely could not go out and pick a branch that would hurt Tony.

“Excuse me?” Richard’s eyes widened as Ian had never flat out refused any order, he knew he’d had to have heard wrong.

Absolutely hating to repeat his defiance Ian did it anyway. “I said no.” His father shot up out of his chair, grabbed him by the arm and hauled him away from the table and down the cellar stairs. Ian’s clothes were torn from his body. His father grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on. A board about six inches long and about half an inch thick.

The board wielded by the man’s mighty arm beat the boy to his knees, then down all the way to the floor. Still he kept up his attack. Long after Ian stopped struggling, long after nearly every surface of his body was swelling and bruising Richard threw the board aside his energy more than his anger completely spent.

Ian did not wake up until several hours later. He awoke to the sounds of Tony’s screams. His body, shivering from the cold cellar and even colder cement floor, would not move. Even if he had the nerve to go up and stop whatever was going on he couldn’t will himself to move his throbbing body. Not even enough to try and find his clothes and cover himself up.

He didn’t fall back to sleep that night. His body was too cold and too sore to allow it. Though he’d gotten no sleep and though he was in agonizing pain he was forced up, in the shower then to his mother’s car which took him to school.

The next week was pure torture. Each night his father ordered him to cut a switch for Tony each night Ian adamantly refused. He was beaten to the point of passing out each and every night. Come Saturday night Tony seemed to catch on to what he needed to do. He remained silent all through dinner and did everything that was asked of him the rest of the evening.

His father, still determined, called both boys into the living room. “Ian go cut a switch.”

“What did I do?” Tony called out angrily. “I didn’t do nuthin’ leave him the hell alone.”

Richard’s eyes widened and he grabbed Tony by the arm shaking him roughly while slapping his face repeatedly. Ian’s eyes widened as the man pulled out the rubber dildo. The same one that had kept Ian in pain for nearly a full week. His father yanked down the boy’s pants and splayed him out over the arm of the couch. He positioned the thing against his small cheeks and looked up at Ian. “You either go get a switch or I’ll show him about the sins of homosexuality.”

Ian’s eyes widened even more. He couldn’t believe that his father would do such a thing but couldn’t take a chance that he wouldn’t and possibly kill the kid. Ian turned on his heel and hurried out to the tree, tears streaming out of his eyes the whole way. He pulled a switch from the tree cursing his father, cursing his very existence. This could not possibly be the way God wanted things. God could not possibly want him to aid his father in the abuse of a young boy. Could not possibly want a five year old to be sodomized if he didn’t cooperate.

The thought that his father enjoyed his ‘teachings’ crossed his mind vividly. That maybe, just maybe they weren’t teachings at all. Maybe, just maybe the man enjoyed manipulating and creating pain. By the time he got back to the house with the switch he wanted nothing more than to lash it across his father’s face. Like always though he chickened out at the last minute and handed the thing over.

His father shook his head and stepped to the back of the couch keeping his hand pressed down on Tony’s back to keep him in place. “You think I enjoy this so much, you do it.”

Ian’s eyes widened. ‘How in hell did he know that?’ “I don’t think that.” He argued futilely.

“You are to deliver ten lashes. And if I feel you are holding back I’ll put this in his bottom then put it in yours.”

“Sir please.” Ian begged his tears rejuvenating themselves. “I can’t do this.”

His father positioned the dildo and pressed it in against the boy’s cheeks. An ear piercing scream came out of the boy and Ian just couldn’t see it happen. A lashing was better than this. “Okay, Okay.” He yelled out his tears still streaming down his face. He positioned himself behind the boy’s upturned rear drew his arm back and delivered the first strike. He sobbed and cried as loudly as Tony did as he delivered blow after blow.

When it was finally over Richard pushed the boy off. “Take down your pants and take his place.” Ian quickly obeyed and Richard took charge of the switch. The thing hit him so many times he lost count. Not satisfied just doing his bottom Richard pulled his shirt up to his shoulders and beat his back as badly as he’d done his butt. By the time he was through blood was running in rivulets down off his back and ass. “Go take a shower and clean yourself up.”

After taking a very painful shower Ian walked into his room where Tony was already lying on his bed. Tony sat up as he walked in; tears were rolling down his face as he looked at Ian and shook his head. “I tried Ian I really’s did. I’m sorry.”

What Ian figured had to be instinct took over. He walked over to the boy’s bed, sat down beside him and pulled him gently into his arms. The boy sobbed uncontrollably as he buried his face in Ian’s chest. “I’ll be a good boy, I’ll be better. I promise.”

Tears fell down Ian’s face as well. Tony had been a good boy that evening. He had no doubt about it. Which made him wonder how many times he’d been a good boy and still been punished for it. Made him start to question his entire existence. “You are a good boy Tony.” He said lacing his fingers through the boy’s curly hair. An idea formulating in his head he pried Tony out of his arms and stood him up beside the bed. “Turn around.”

Tony looked at him fearfully. “Why?”

“Cause I want to see how you look. I won’t hurt you I promise.”

Tony slowly nodded then turned himself around. Ian pulled down his pajama bottoms and pulled up his shirt. There were several scratches across his bottom and deep bruising all across his back. He wanted to look between his cheeks to see if their father had actually entered him with the dildo but just didn’t feel right about doing it. He pulled the boy’s pants back up and straightened the nightshirt back down around his waist. “We better go to bed now.”

Tony nodded and crawled into his own bed while Ian lay down as well. He went over and over his plan in his head and prayed he could go through with it and not chicken out.

His plan didn’t get rolling until two days later. He was in the library again when Nathan walked in. Someone that was pivotal to his plan and someone he truly hoped would help. Nathan, to his elation, walked over and sat next to him again. “How you doin’ Ian?”

Ian’s first instinct came out his mouth. “Fine,”

Nathan nodded and Ian sighed.

“Okay, okay maybe I’m not fine.”

Nathan chuckled a bit. “I hadn’t even started in on my pressuring yet.”

Though confused by what he meant Ian took a deep breath. “You said a couple weeks ago that I could get help. That all I had to do was call a number. Thing is I can’t call that number. I can’t take the chance on getting the same results. I have a plan but I really need your help.” He turned in his chair to face the other boy. A boy he hardly knew but the only one who’d ever bothered to be nice to him. It was all he had to work with and just prayed he could really trust the guy.

“I’ll do anything you want Ian. I want to help.”

Ian smiled at him. The first genuine smile he could ever remember having. “My parents adopted another boy.”

Nathan’s eyes widened, the shock he was feeling written all over his face.

“That has made me realize things can’t go on like this, I can’t watch him go through what I’ve lived through.” Blushing, he stopped, realizing he shouldn’t have said that. “I’m sorry.”

Nathan shook his head. “Why are you sorry Ian?”

Ian shook his head not wanting to explain it. “The boy goes to elementary school, he’s only five. He goes to Jefferson. What I was thinking…” he paused and looked around to make sure no one could hear him. “Was that you could call the hotline. Make an anonymous call. Say you are a member of my dad’s church. Say you suspect that Tony,” he paused again, “that’s the little boy.”

Nathan nodded having figured that.

“Say you suspect he’s being abused. Tell them to go to the school and check him out. Tell them to look at his back.”

“What’s it gonna look like?”

Confused again Ian narrowed his eyes. “What’s what gonna look like?”

“His back.”

Wringing his hands together Ian looked down at them. “Well it’s gonna look like mine did, that day in the bathroom.” Nathan reached out and put his hand on Ian’s knee. Ian quickly drew it away. “Don’t touch me.”

Nathan’s own eyes narrowed. “I’m not gonna make a move on you man. I mean I know how you feel about gay people, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Ian shook his head. “It’s not that, just if anyone sees and someone tells my mom, well she’ll tell my dad and I’ll get in trouble.”

Nodding Nathan studied Ian’s down cast face for a moment. “That speech, the one you wrote for English, that wasn’t really your opinion was it?”

Ian’s head snapped up and he looked Nathan in the eye. Actually holding eye contact for longer than he ever had with anyone. He wanted so badly for people to know he wasn’t the close minded person everyone thought he was. If he was going to trust Nathan with calling the hotline he saw no reason not to trust him a little more. “No,” he said shaking his head. “My father told me what to write. It’s his opinion not mine.” The smile that lit up Nathan’s face could have lit up an entire room. Though Ian didn’t understand why his revelation could make anyone so happy he still felt really good about it.

“Well I’m sorry I called you St. Ian then.” Nathan chuckled.

Ian chuckled himself though it surprised the hell out of him. “I actually thought that sounded kinda neat.”

Nathan laughed a good hearty laugh that warmed Ian’s heart. It made him feel good to think something he had said could make such a wonderful noise come out of someone. “So will you help me?”

“I sure will Ian, don’t you worry about that. What hotline did you call before?”

“Youth City.”

“Well I don’t think we should call that one again. Did you have another in mind?”

Ian nodded. “There’s a poster in the lobby. It’s white and purple and says ‘when home is where the hurt is’ I want to call that one. But I haven’t dared sneak down and get the number. I hate to ask but can you do that too?”

“Of course. Do you want me to do it now?”

Ian wrung his hands together nervously as he broke out into a sweat; this was it, now or never. After this there was no turning back. He managed a nod unable to get his mouth to spit out an answer.

Nathan nodded though he wanted to hug him or kiss him or give him some reassurance as he saw the boy was terrified. He got up and quietly left the library.

It was ten minutes before Nathan returned. Ten minutes that Ian kept close track of with the help of the clock in the library. Nathan retook the seat beside him. “Well I called them. I told them what you said. They said they have to look into it and thanked me for my call.”

Ian’s face fell. “That’s it?”

“Well that’s all they told me Ian. I don’t think they can really give me, an anonymous caller much information. But they did say they’d look into it. And if they do then you and Tony will be safe.”

Ian looked back at the table and nodded. Feeling nervous about what would actually happen. Where would he go and live? Would he be sent to the orphanage that he delivered his Christmas presents to every year? Would he finally be sent off to the reform school that had always been a constant threat? The thought that undoubtedly scared him the most though, was staying where he was. He knew after the last few weeks events that he couldn’t stand by while someone else was beaten.

He still wasn’t entirely sure whether the treatment was wrong or not. Up until a week earlier when he’d talked with Nathan, he’d thought everyone was treated that way. But if it was wrong, then people had to know. If it wasn’t then he’d take his punishment again and go on. He at least would have the piece of mind in knowing he’d tried to do something, knowing that the way he lived was okay. He’d no longer have the nagging doubts that constantly ran through his mind.

He looked back at Nathan, “Your parents never hit you?”

“When I was a kid. Maybe four times I got put over my father’s knee. But I never once looked like you did the other day in the bathroom.”

“What’s that mean?” Ian asked shaking his head in confusion. “Put you over his knee?”

“It’s the way I got spanked. He put me over his knee.”

“What did he use?”

Nathan, confused himself, shook his head then it dawned on him what Ian had meant and he felt a stab of fear and pity wondering what instruments had been used on this kid over the years. “Just his hand Ian.” He said through his constricting throat. “Just his hand.”