Unbreakable Faith - 1. Chapter 1

Unbreakable Faith

Chapter 1

Ian sat rigidly in the front pew of the church his neck craned and his face pointed upwards at his father as he delivered another ‘fire and brimstone’ sermon to his faithful parishioners. Though he hadn’t turned his head away from his father since the sermon had begun half an hour before he knew the church was packed like it was every Sunday.

His father’s church was the only Pentecostal church in the town, and though most people in the town were Baptists there were enough Pentecostal’s in the town to fill this church every Sunday morning, Sunday night and even Wednesday evenings.

Though he’d been staring at his father for half an hour he decided to actually focus in on the man’s face. He saw the cold hard eyes that never seemed to hold any softness or compassion in them at all. The haggard looking face, the vein that popped out on the man’s forehead when he got really worked up about something. A vein Ian had seen throbbing intensely way more than he ever wanted to.

He felt his mother sitting rigidly at his side, not that he dared take his eyes away from his father long enough to look at her. Not even out of the corner of his eye. His father had an uncanny way of knowing exactly when to look to be able to catch him doing something wrong.

After at least another full hour of listening intently to his father’s ranting the service wrapped up. Like always Richard Weaver came off his podium and ‘graced’ the congregation with his presence. Shaking hands with the ‘flock’ and smiling. It was the only time Ian ever saw him smile and he always paid close attention to it. He prayed every night after his mandatory prayer that just once he would see his dad smile at him like that. That just once he would know what it felt like to be looking into that face and not see hatred and anger.

He felt his mother’s hand close in on his arm like a vice as she stood up and pretty much pulled him up right beside her. She was a tall woman and thin as a rail. She had a power to her though. One Ian never dared to mess with. She led him over still hanging tightly to his arm to where the ‘good reverend’ was standing. As dutifully as they did every Sunday they stood behind the patriarch of their family. Showing the rest of the congregation they stood behind their preacher both literally and figuratively. The perfect little family.

Ian was fully aware however that many members of the church knew he was not perfect. His father had used him as an example in his sermons more then once, talking of his adopted son’s sinful ways. Most of the church members didn’t like him and didn’t have any qualms about letting him know that. They thought it was despicable that he could be so ungrateful to the family that had saved him from a life in orphanages. What they didn’t know though was that half the stuff the good preacher raved about was grossly exaggerated. The slightest indiscretion could be made into the biggest atrocity.

His face still burned with humiliation whenever he thought back to the time he was ten and his father had shown the entire church how to properly punish a heathenish child. Ian had had no idea it was coming. Had no idea of what was going to happen until his father had stormed off his podium, grabbed him by the arm then turned him back to the congregation. His clothes were ripped off and he was bent over the stairs. His father had beat him with his belt for a good ten minutes leaving him a stinging mass of humiliation as he was pushed off into a corner and made to stand there facing it with his bruising naked backside on display for everyone to see.

His father didn’t stop the humiliation there however. He spent the rest of the morning preaching about every other sin that he’d thought he’d ever committed. How his own parents had given up on him but he would never do that. That after some strong discipline and teachings of the lord’s way the boy may be able to be saved.

Ian kept his head down as the last of the parishioners shook his father’s hand and trickled out of the church. He didn’t look up again until he felt his father standing over him. “Get this place cleaned up. When you get home I’m going to quiz you to make sure you were paying attention this morning. So I suggest you go over it in your head because you know what will happen if you don’t get them right.”

Ian nodded already dreading the afternoon as he knew he’d never get all the questions right. He watched as his parents walked out of the church. His father’s quizzes were at least fifty questions. Ian doubted anyone that had sat through the spiel that morning could ever pass one of the man’s quizzes. Though he’d paid as close attention as he always did and fought to absorb every word he knew without a doubt he’d have a fiery hot backside come bedtime.

He walked to the closet at the back of the church and pulled out the spray duster and a clean rag. Every Sunday he cleaned the church, as well as every Wednesday night and again on Saturday. He never considered the place to be dirty but followed the same routine every time he cleaned it. First he dusted the pews and the windows, next he vacuumed the floors. When the main hall was finished he cleaned both the men’s and women’s bathrooms then did the daycare room.

The daycare room was always the messiest and always took the most time to clean. As he walked in he looked around at the toys strewn all over the floor, the books and crayons spread over the tables. It irritated him that the ‘god fearing’ women who ran the childcare couldn’t bother to clean up their own mess. It was one of many clues he got to the fact that his father’s congregation was not the union of holy souls they made themselves out to be.

He got on his hands and knees. Scooping up armloads of toys and teddy bears he deposited them all in the toy boxes. When he was younger he used to love to clean the room as he actually took extra time to be able to play with the many toys that were in it. He’d never had any toys of his own. He got some for Christmas every year he’d been with the Weaver’s but within a week he was told to pack them up then a big production was made of taking them down to the orphanage and donating them to the ‘less fortunate’ kids.

The good reverend explained on each drive that he didn’t deserve the toys and didn’t have the responsibility it took to take care of them. Said Ian should be thankful it was this way as it made even the likes of him look like a good person in donating his toys every year, though Ian was never fooled. He knew it was done only to make the good reverend look charitable. Knew whatever good he himself ever did was always credited to his stellar upbringing with the Weaver’s. That maybe the little heathen child was finally learning what it was to be a good Christian.

After putting everything in its place in the child care room he walked out the front of the church then across the lawn to the two story white Colonial house that he lived in. The house went with the church. It was the nicest house the Weaver’s had stayed in. Ian only remembered two others and both places were less than two year stays. They’d moved here when he was eight and had been here for seven years now.

Though he in no way wanted to go into the house his feet climbed the stairs. He’d never disobeyed outright. Never wanted to give his father any more ammunition than he already had. The beatings were bad enough when he didn’t intentionally do anything wrong, he could not imagine their severity if he was openly defiant.

Opening the front door he stepped inside and closed it securely yet quietly behind him. He always tried to make as little noise as possible. The longer he went undetected the longer he was safe. Though he’d been quiet his father walked out of the living room and into the entry hall facing off against him. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry sir,” he kept his eyes down, as the only time he was allowed to look the man in the face was when the guy was preaching.

“Oh I’m sure you will be. Get upstairs and take off your clothes.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed in confusion as his father hadn’t even asked any questions of the quiz yet, therefore leaving him with nothing to answer wrong, and making him wonder why he had to be naked from the get go. He searched his mind for any other little thing that he could have done wrong. Rather than speak out of turn and question the man Ian walked past him and climbed the stairs to his room.

At the end of the second floor hallway he opened his bedroom door and stepped inside. His room was pretty good sized but very sparsely furnished. There was a twin bed in about the center of the back wall right below a window; a bureau that had seen many years pass was placed on the right wall and a desk on the left wall. One he never used as his studying was to be done under supervision at the dining room table.

He peeled off his clothes his body tingling in dread of what he was sure was to come. He folded them neatly and set them on the bureau knowing he’d be wearing them again that night at church. Hearing his father’s heavy footsteps coming up the stairs he scrambled over to the end of the bed and stood facing the door his hands at his sides his eyes focused on the floor in proper punishment stance.

The door flew open and the man he most feared in the world walked into the room. His cold eyes raking the boy over, his head shaking in disappointment. “Look at me boy.”

Ian’s eyes fluttered up, his breath caught in his throat and his body filled with nervous tingles as his father held up a notebook, Ian’s notebook that he had filled with his most private thoughts. The notebook that he thought he’d hidden safely in the basement of the church. He instinctively took a step back knowing the man had read the notebook and knowing there would be a severe price to pay.

“Of all the shame you could have brought upon your self and this family you chose the most shameful of them all.”

Ian flinched as the notebook, wielded by his dad’s mighty hand, crashed against the side of his face. “Well I think you need to see that these little fantasies of yours are just that, fantasies. That no boy of mine, blood related or not is a homosexual. I don’t know what tool of the devil has put these rancid thoughts into your head but I will see to it that today they are taken out.”

Richard Weaver walked past his son and placed a paper bag on the bed. Ian’s eyes widened as a second later the man stood before him again with something in his hand he was certain he’d never see in the man’s hand. It was about eight inches long, roughly three inches in diameter and looked very similar to a man’s penis. “You’ll see the pain involved in the kind of sin you are letting filter through that insipid mind of yours.”

“Sir please,” Ian begged, now knowing his fate for that afternoon. He didn’t get to speak again before he was roughly spun around and pushed down over the wrought iron at the end of his bed. He cried out in agony as the immense girth of the thing that had been in his father’s hand was shoved unmercifully into his rectum, feeling as though it were ripping his rear in two as it made it’s invasion. Tears of immense pain seeped out of his eyes as he spread his burning legs further apart to try and accommodate the arduous intruder. His belly filled with cramps while he sucked in deep breaths feeling like he was going to pass out from the pain.

He wailed loudly biting down on his tongue to keep from screaming at the top of his lungs as his father roughly pulled the thing in and out with an incredible force. His knees buckled leaving his stomach to drop down on the wrought iron which brought even more pain, as his father continued to sodomize him roughly with the crude instrument.

After a few minutes of this agonizing pain his father’s hand left the device where it was shoved deep into the boy. Ian gasped as even though the thing was not still moving, his body still burned immensely from his feet all the way up to his chest. “Please take it out,” he cried not caring if his speaking out would get him in more trouble or not, just needing the thing to be gone. The answer to his pleas was his father’s belt smacking him soundly just above his buttocks on the base of his back. The belt hit six more times in quick succession leaving Ian’s lower back a fiery hot and very red mass.

That pain seemed to alleviate at least some of the pain that was coming from his rectum. “Stand up, put your hands on your head and face the wall.”

Though his body did not want to move Ian forced it to. He slowly stood up, the movement bringing to life even more pain. He shakily put his hands on his head as tears spilled down his face and on wobbly legs turned away from his father and faced the wall. As promised his father started in on the quiz. Being in so much pain Ian did not get one answer right. With the dildo still hanging out of his ass his father brought the belt crashing on to his naked flesh a good thirty times.

Ian managed to remain on his feet through the entire ordeal but collapsed to his knees the moment his father yanked the dildo out of his rear. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed never having felt so humiliated in his entire very humiliating life, not to mention the incredible pain the last hour had provided him and that he knew would not go away any time soon.

His father bellowed on above him about the shame and sin of homosexuality. That if this afternoon didn’t straighten him out then he could look forward to it again in the future. “You stay here until I come and fetch you for tonight’s service.” He gave Ian a sound kick in the side then turned and left the room slamming the door loudly behind him.

Ian stayed in his position until he heard his father’s footfalls go down the stairs. Still whimpering he slowly lifted his head out of his hands and gently ran his hand along the rising welts all over his thighs, butt and back. He whimpered more as his hand brushed over them but as always still continued to explore the damage. It was one of those stellar beatings where he knew just sitting down for the next week would bring great pain.

His fingers started into the soft fold of his bottom then froze about half way in not having the courage to go on. It felt as though his hole was split wide open, felt as though it was swollen to twice its normal size. He just didn’t dare to actually feel its surface with his fingers, afraid that what he would feel there would only terrify him more.

He stayed balled up on the floor, as his room started to darken with the end of another day. Knowing that meant his father would be coming for him soon, he got up and slowly dressed being as careful as he could while pulling the material of his clothes over his back. Each movement of his legs caused him to grit his teeth as the pain in his rear was still very bad.

The entire way through the evening service he gritted his teeth as the hard wooden pew was almost too much to bear. He alleviated it only minimally by discreetly sitting on his hands. This left his very tender butt not to have to bear the entire burden. After the service he followed his parents back over to their house keeping a respectful distance behind them.

“Go take a shower, wash the filth from your body,” his father ordered the second they were inside. “I’ll be monitoring your prayers tonight. I’ll expect you in your room in ten minutes.”

Ian made it to his room and was there in his pajamas for about a minute before his father walked in. A bible was thrust in his hands and a broom was dropped onto the floor. Knowing the routine of this punishment Ian knelt down over the broom placing his knees directly on the handle. Which didn’t hurt so much right away but he knew that after a few minutes it would start an ache that would travel up his entire body.

His father glowered over him, his hands on his hips his waist at Ian’s eye level. “Leviticus 18:22”

Ian quickly opened to Leviticus and read aloud. “Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman: that is detestable.”

“Again,”

Ian read it again then the five other times his father said again.

“Leviticus 20:30"

He flipped ahead a few pages then read aloud again. “If a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, both of them has done what is detestable. They must be put to death: their blood will be on their own heads.” He then repeated that verse again the five times his father had ordered.

The hours passed and the routine went on. Ian was amazed even through his pain how much something that could be such a shameful sin was mentioned in such a holy book. He knew what information he was supposed to gain from this. Knew that his father had no doubt the bible was saying it was wrong and therefore it was to be instilled in him, by this repeated reading of these verses, just how wrong it was. Having his own intellect though Ian found that many of the passages didn’t really seem to be saying it was evil, despicable or shameful. That some of the men in the bible did it and no mention of retribution followed it up.

His take was that the passages that spoke avidly against it were simply the writer’s opinion. That Mr. Leviticus or whoever the hell he was didn’t like gays. That didn’t bother him, he could care less about the guy that wrote so long windily that Ian would never have attempted to read the thing, had it not been forced on him his entire life.

It was long past midnight when the bible was snatched back out of his hands. Though his legs had pretty much gone numb they started aching terribly as he slowly got to his feet using the bed to provide some much needed support. He stood before his father finally his head lowered as he studied the man’s shoes. “I’m sorry sir for my transgressions; I thank you for showing me the error of my ways. I feel my heart is a bit more pure this evening with the guidance you have shown me today.” It made him sick to say this bit; it was so rehearsed, even written by the man for him to spit out each night after receiving punishment. He couldn’t figure how his father could get any gratification out of it but still the man insisted on it being done.

“I expect you up at six for school. When you get home the lawn needs mowing. Here and at the church. When you are finished and only then you may come back into the house for dinner.”

“Yes sir,”

“I hope some day you realize all the energy it takes for me not to give up on you all together. I hope someday you realize it and begin to act like the god-fearing child you should be acting like. Go to bed now, I’ve had about all of you I can take for one day.”

Keeping his eyes downcast he gave a precise nod of his head, “Yes sir.” He didn’t move until his father walked out of the room closing the door a bit gentler than the loud slam a few hours earlier. Ian walked over to his bed and with great precision turned down the blankets. He used great precision with everything he did. Any wrong move or something not quite right could set his father off. He feared everything from not walking right to leaving something misplaced or even slightly askew. Everything had to be in its proper place and he had to be proper at all times.

All his trying did little good to keep his father calm and to keep Ian’s body and mind from hurting. Still though, every day he did things precisely trying to be the perfect son that he’d come to realize over the past few years that he was probably never going to be. Though he strived for perfection in everything he did he knew he always came up short. Though he always thought he’d done things okay he was painfully taught they weren’t okay at all. No matter how hard he tried and tried to be the perfect son he always came up terribly short.

He wondered why he tried so hard at all. Wondered if it just weren’t possible for him to be a good boy. As he lay in bed on his stomach he went over all these thoughts in his head. He came up with no answers but was not ready to give up just yet. Even though he himself was pretty sure it was futile he wanted so badly to prove even himself wrong he was determined to keep trying.

He woke up the next morning with a constant throbbing in his rear. Avoiding being on it at all he pulled himself out of bed right from his stomach. With taking his showers at night he simply went to his bureau and pulled out a pair of tan slacks and a black sweater. His parents didn’t permit him to wear jeans or any type of short sleeve shirt to school.

He slipped on the clothes then stepped into his brown loafers, sneakers as well weren’t permitted. He didn’t have to worry about playing any sport in gym in his loafers though as he was also not allowed to take part in gym. His father felt he got plenty of physical exercise at home and did not approve of the gym uniforms the school required its students to wear.

He had no friends but also had no enemies. He imagined he would have a few if his mother didn’t work at the school. She saw to it he interacted with no one and with her being the meanest teacher at school, no one had really tried becoming friends with him. They all knew his parents were very strict and he imagined even if he did have friends and was allowed to have friends over to the house that none of them would dare to show up.

Fully dressed he quietly opened his bedroom door and walked as soundlessly as he could across the hall to the bathroom where he relieved his bladder, combed his hair and brushed his teeth. He spent extra time getting his hair just right as a hair out of place could spawn a lecture in proper appearance from either his mother or father.

After doing a thorough inspection in the mirror and making a few adjustments he could find nothing else wrong. He took a deep breath already quaking in fear as he did every morning before he presented himself to his parents. Leaving the bathroom he walked quietly down the stairs. Making sure a foot fell on each step and his hand stayed on the banister as that was the proper way to walk down the stairs.

In the dining room his mother and father were both seated at the table, neither looking up at him as he walked in. He carefully moved his chair out from the table making sure to lift it so the legs did not scrape across the floor. Once he’d seated himself he made sure to lift again as he slid up closer to the table. His mother got up from the table, leaving the room, and came back a minute later with a pan. She spooned out a large glob of oatmeal into the bowl in front of him then took the pan back to the kitchen.

Ian clasped his hands together in front of his face and closed his eyes. Rehearsing in his head his prayer before he said it aloud. “Father I thank you for this food you have provided me. I pray I walk in glory today and honor your place in my heart by following the example in your word. Thank you for my father, my mother and all the bounty you bestow on me day after day. Amen.”

He opened his eyes back up, put his hands in his lap and braced himself. If a prayer was not good enough he found out rather quickly with a sharp backhand to his head. When no hand came crashing into him he slowly moved a hand up to the table and grasped his spoon. Mealtime was a truly nauseating experience, as he never knew he was doing wrong until he was hit. Lots of times especially in recent years he was not hit at all. Problem was he never knew when it would come and was fearful in everything he did to try and avoid it.

He hadn’t ever as far as he could remember enjoyed a meal. His stomach was always in knots when he ate and the food tasted like little more than rubber. He didn’t figure that was the fault of the cook, he figured it was the fault of his nerves. After making it through the meal without being hit and without any words he took his bowl into the kitchen. As his mother washed the dishes he dried them. Like usual no words exchanged between them.

After finishing the dishes they left the house and got in her car. He sat in the back as was expected while she got behind the wheel. Though sitting was less painful than it had been the night before it was still pretty painful and by the time the car had hit every bump between the house and school he was once again throbbing painfully.

He followed her into the school and to his locker. She always walked him to his locker and then to his first class. Like usual not a word was spoken. She was not much for words and he knew it was not only just with him. He found it quite surprising she was able to talk enough to be a teacher but knew she did talk in class as he was blessed to have her for a teacher this year.

After gathering his morning books he followed her to his first class which was English. He enjoyed English a great deal and liked being able to start the day with it. He left his mother’s side and walked into the room. He took his place in the front of the room as his parents required that he be in the front row in every one of his classes.

The class filtered in around him taking their seats and talking with each other. He often felt he was not really a part of this world at all. That he was only there to observe or something. The world seemed to go on all around him and he didn’t seem to participate in any of it. He spent countless hours just studying the other kids, seeing how they acted, and seeing how they interacted with each other. He wanted badly to have friends. Didn’t want to be all alone in the world anymore. He got some enjoyment just being among them and witnessing their day to day life but really ached to just be a part of it all.

It was a hope he knew he’d never dare to act on. At least not at this school, and at least not while he was still living with his parents. He figured he may actually know how to make and retain friends from all the interactions he’d seen his classmates go through over the years. He loved to see the couples most of all. To see how they held hands in the halls. How they stole kisses at their lockers. Though he didn’t feel attracted to girls himself he still liked to see people in love. Though he knew he’d get even more excited if there were guy couples making out in the halls. Despite his lesson the night before he still couldn’t turn off his feelings.

He didn’t really know whether it was wrong or not. He knew it was wrong in the eyes of the church but didn’t agree with everything his father preached each week. But it was something he knew without any doubt that he had to keep to himself. If he ever decided to act on his feelings for other guys it would be long after he’d left his parents house and a long, long ways away from this town where he would forever be known as the ‘preacher’s kid.’

His English teacher, Mr. Bell, a tall lanky man that reminded Ian of Ichabod Crane started the lesson. Though he got good grades he knew through subtle hints and from his mother’s few words that the teachers didn’t like him. They couldn’t come out and say it or say why but the feelings and vibes were strong enough to let him know his mother wasn’t lying in what the other teachers thought of him.

Ian listened intently as Mr. Bell prattled nonstop for about forty five minutes before giving the assignment. “I want you to write a paper, two pages long. I want it to be an argument of an important issue facing America today. Pick a subject, pick a side and fight for it.”

“Like what?” the girl that was sitting beside Ian piped up.

“Like prayer in schools, abortion, the war going on now, right to bear arms, gay marriage, taxes, there’s tons of topics. If it helps tune into the news tonight and I’m sure topics will jump right out at you.”

Ian knew he’d have no choice in the topic, and already was pretty sure which one his father would choose for him after the previous day’s tragic events. He was dreading the evening even more now than he usually did. He went through the rest of the morning in his isolation. No one talked to him, no one even looked in his direction. He was, among his peers, the ‘invisible boy.’

At lunch he walked into his mother’s classroom. He was not allowed to go to the cafeteria. Was expected to report to her classroom every lunch hour. He took the seat he always sat in, at the desk right in front of hers. She pulled her bag out from under her desk. Producing two brown paper bags she pushed one towards him across her desk then set the other one right in front of herself.

Ian leaned forward and took his bag. He clasped his hands and said another prayer, thankfully this one was allowed to be silent. After his prayer he opened the bag. He pulled out a hard boiled egg, and a garden salad. His mother was big on nutrition. As of late she was on the low carb craze not that the family had a weight problem just that she considered it a healthy alternative. The only meal they really had with any carbs in it was breakfast. The daily slimy oatmeal he’d eaten for breakfast for as long as he could remember.

They ate in silence. When he was done with his meal he closed the plastic container back up, then put the trash back in the bag and got up. He deposited it in the trash can then retook his seat.

“You get in trouble yet this morning?”

“No ma’am.”

“You better not lie to me. You know I always find out.”

“I’m not lying ma’am.”

“Your father is at his last straw with you. He’s real close to sending you to reform school. I think it’s a good idea. Yet we have to be concerned with how it looks sending our son off to a place like that. If it weren’t for his image I’m sure you’d have been shipped off long ago.”

This was not the first time he’d heard the reform school threat. He actually wouldn’t mind being shipped off. He couldn’t imagine life getting any worse at a place like that. In fact he figured it might just be a bit better. He would never speak up and say that though, so was still stuck in the hell that was his life.

They sat in silence until about five minutes before the period ended. “Go to the bathroom. Then come right back here.” His next class was hers.

“I need to go to my locker and get my books.”

“Five minutes,” she quipped not looking up from her book.

He made quick work of doing his business and getting his books. In well under five minutes he returned to her class and retook his seat. The bell rang a few minutes later and slowly the class filled with people. There was no talking as they entered this room though. Everyone knew Mrs. Weaver loved to hand out detentions. He actually kind of liked the fact that he wasn’t the only one the woman terrified. It made him feel just a little closer to normal though still very far from actually being normal.