Unbreakable Faith - 2. Chapter 2

Unbreakable Faith

Chapter 2

After another nerve wracking and very silent dinner he helped his mother do the dishes then returned to the dining room table with his books. Like every night his mother produced a list of his homework she’d gotten from his teachers and handed it to his father.

Ian held his breath while his father looked over the list of assignments. He could almost hear the man’s brain working on how to make each assignment into some life lesson. “Math first,” his father spat out.

Like he’d pressed a button Ian reached for his math book and dutifully got to work on the problems. After he’d finished it he handed over his paper while his father ordered him to read his history chapter. When he was through reading the chapter his mother, who was his History teacher, quizzed him on it. She spat out the questions like she was firing a gun. He answered them all and thankfully answered them correctly. Like always he got the feeling she was annoyed she couldn’t stump him. He often got the feeling she liked that he got punished. When the quiz was over his father spoke up. “You’ll do your paper on gay rights in America. You’ll fight against it; I want at least four scriptural quotes. You won’t hold anything back in showing everyone that it is nothing but a dirty and shameful sin. I want it five pages long.”

“It’s only supposed to be two sir,” his point was responded to with a sound smack across his face.

“I don’t give a damn what that stupid teacher said.” His father’s voice bellowed while Ian fought not to rub his stinging face. “You think this is merely an assignment you idiot child? This is your chance to let those heathens you go to school with know just what a sin this whole thing is. This is God’s work you’ll be doing not your feeble minded teachers. NOW GET WRITING.”

Ian opened his notebook to a blank page. He wanted so badly to write anything else. Or even write pro gay rights. It was just something he didn’t have the courage to do. His main goal in life was keeping his father at least somewhat calm, therefore keeping his body as pain free as possible. He spent three hours writing out the paper then shakily handed it over to his father sure the first attempt would not be the way he wanted it. His first attempts at things never were. It frustrated him that after 15 years of living with the guy that he still didn’t know how to please him the first time around.

His father took the paper and held it firmly between his hands; his stern face stared down at it as his eyes moved back and forth across the words. Ian looked at the back of the paper always avoiding his father’s face. If he focused on the paper and on the hands holding it up it may give him some clue as to what was to come.

Five minutes later his father set the paper down. Though not looking at his face Ian could feel the man’s eyes boring into him. “This is the weakest attempt I have ever read. Go get a switch.”

Ian’s heart floundered. He stood up and carefully lifted his chair so that it was back against the table. He walked to the front door then stepped out into the chilly late September evening. Switches were to be cut from the weeping willow tree that stood about halfway between the rectory and the church. The tree his father said ‘stood for his shame.’ He walked to the tree half wondering why it still had so many branches as he was out here once a week ripping one off.

Ian had even heard a few of the church parishioners joking a few times about the tree. Saying things like ‘it was looking pretty bare lately’ or ‘if that boy doesn’t get with the program that poor tree will be the one to suffer.’ All the comments he’d heard had gotten a good laugh from the God fearing folk present to hear it.

Though he wanted to pick the tiniest least threatening looking branch he knew he’d never get away with such a thing. If he took in one that didn’t look quite strong enough he’d merely be sent out for a better one and get twice as many lashes for his poor choice in the first place. He reached up to the tree and pulled off one about five feet long, it looked good and sturdy and had good flex to it. He sighed as he looked up at the tree. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled quietly to it before turning and going back into the house.

Soon as he was inside he was ordered to strip again. His father pulled a chair away from the table not bothering to lift it; he just scraped it right across the floor. “Lean over the table.”

Ian stepped up to the table and laid the upper half of his body over its cold surface. He pressed his hips into its side to prevent his mobility as his father hated him moving too much during a punishment. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips into the table. The switch did indeed prove itself to be a good one. He only got ten lashes but each lash left its mark biting into his skin across his back, thighs, and down his buttocks. Leaving long scratches, much like a cat’s claw would make.

“Cover yourself back up you filthy boy.”

Ian stood up quickly wiping his tears with the back of his hand. He painstakingly got his clothes back on then retook his seat at the table. His father bellowed out the changes to be made in the paper and what should be completely taken out and rewritten.

It was well after two in the morning before the paper was good enough for his father. Though a good half hour of that time was spent with him bent over the table after each revision was not quite up to par. Ian went to bed with a severely burning back despite the cool shower that he’d hoped would ease his wounds.

As he lay on his side in the bed, his knees curled up near his stomach and the blankets pulled up tightly around his neck, he dreaded English class come morning. He knew the papers would have to be read aloud. He didn’t want his classmates, whether they talked to him or not, to think he was a closed minded bigot. He knew the paper in itself was a punishment. He had no doubt his father knew the paper would make him less than popular among his peers. The school wasn’t exactly the most liberal place around but Ian had the idea after years of being there that tolerance outweighed negativity. That his going to school and preaching anything, which was what the damn paper would be considered, would not go over well.

He was first to English class the next morning. He was always first to English class. No matter how early his mother showed up for work she always walked him to his class before she went to hers. This meant that some days he was there up to an hour early. Just sitting staring at the walls. He didn’t have homework to catch up on, that was always done and inspected every night before bed. This being his first class of the day he had no new assignments. He wasn’t allowed to just go to the library and get a book as his ‘free’ reading was carefully monitored and his father made it clear he didn’t think Ian capable of choosing a proper book. Therefore the man picked out all his son’s reading. Needless to say Ian didn’t share his father’s views on what was a good book, but if he wanted to read he had to take what he was given.

He looked up about half an hour later to see Mr. Bell walking into the room. “Morning Ian,” he quipped before taking his seat behind his big desk at the head of the room.

“Morning sir,” Ian responded dutifully. They didn’t speak to each other again while Ian continued to stare at the walls and the teacher went over some papers at his desk. Not long after that the other students started to trickle in. Like always Ian studied them. One of his favorite things to do was to try and guess who’d got their assignment done and who hadn’t. He considered he’d gotten darn good over the years at reading their expression and now very rarely guessed wrong. One of the tell tale signs was when a person first walked into the room. If they looked at the teacher first thing that was a pretty good sign in itself. Like they were hoping the teacher wouldn’t show so the fact they didn’t have their homework done didn’t matter so. But usually the clincher was the dark sort of foreboding look that came over their faces once they saw the teacher was in fact there.

After everyone had come in the room he deduced that five of them had not done their work. He made a mental note of their names in his head and actually got a little excited to see if he’d be right or not. He got excited so rarely that the fact he was excited made him even more excited. He couldn’t figure out how someone could not do their homework, couldn’t figure why they’d want to be punished like that as soon as their parents found out they’d not turned in an assignment. He figured most parents didn’t always catch their kids being bad. But he knew he would never even take that chance. And he couldn’t understand why the others would even want to.

He was called on about half an hour later to read his paper. After seven other students had read theirs, and two of the five he thought hadn’t done their papers had gone through the shame of admitting they’d not done it. He shakily got up from his desk and stood before the class. He always hated reading anything out loud; his papers were mostly written by his dad as by the time the many revisions of them were completed it was all mostly word for word his father’s opinions. He knew though even if it weren’t his father’s preaching’s that he were reading he’d still hate standing up here in the spotlight while the 25 other kids eyes were looking at him.

He cleared his throat and swallowed the bile that was rising up. Opening his mouth he delivered the speech with as much passion as he could muster for an argument that was not his. He knew Mr. Bell would report his performance to his mother and knew he had to try and make his voice sound as convincing as possible.

Making eye contact, which he knew he’d be graded on, he saw after only reading the first sentence that the kids in the class were starting to roll their eyes. As he went on he noted some looked angry, and some just disgusted with what was coming out of his mouth. Some started to shake their heads and whisper to each other, some snickered and flashed him the finger.

He wanted to read faster to get the whole ordeal over with but kept his pace making sure to make his voice rise and fall as he’d heard his father do so many times in his sermons. When he finally reached the end he turned and set the paper on the teacher’s desk in the same pile that the others had placed theirs. He looked at Mr. Bell and waited as the teacher always gave some kind of opinion after each speech was given.

He felt his face go red as Mr. Bell looked at him disapprovingly and shook his head. “Are you ever going to think for yourself Ian or are you just going to spit the bible at us every time you have to write a paper?”

Ian’s eyes widened. He’d never been reprimanded for not thinking for himself before and had no idea how to respond.

“In your own words in one sentence, tell me why you think the homosexual people of this world should not have the same rights as every other American.”

Ian’s breath caught in his throat as his hands started to sweat. He so badly wanted to scream out that he didn’t think that at all. So badly wanted to tell all these people he wasn’t the close minded bigot they all thought he was. He knew however that such a display would only reinforce his father’s belief’s that he was the actual spawn of Satan therefore making his existence all that much more unbearable. “Because it’s against God’s word,” he ended up spitting out.

Mr. Bell shook his head as the class snickered in disgust. “Sit down Ian; it’s making me just a little bit sick to look at you.”

Ian looked at the teacher for just another second before going back to his seat and quietly sitting down. He sat and listened to the other speeches though he never lifted his eyes back up off his desk. He did comprehend that there were indeed five students that hadn’t done the work but was no longer the least bit excited about it. He knew his speech would bring bad results but hadn’t expected the disapproval to come from a teacher. He could deal with the other kids thinking he was a freak but always took it very hard when he was scolded by an adult.

In chemistry class just before lunch the teacher instructed them to go back to the lab which was just in the back of the room. There were eight different lab stations set up and he shared a lab with three other people, two girls and one other guy. They opened their lab books to where the teacher directed and began working out the experiment. The other three in his group always laughed and fooled around while he did all the work. The only difference today though was the fact they were laughing at him.

“So Ian,” Jessica Sole said amidst her snickers and elbowing her friend Megan. “Why do you suppose people would go to hell simply for loving another human being?”

Ian glanced up at her then looked back down at his work, not needing to get in trouble for talking in class. The questions raged on however each one bringing another round of laughter as they all knew Ian would never speak up. Ian didn’t glance up again until the teacher appeared at their work stations. “You guys need to stop talking and do your work. If I have to speak to you again you’ll all be in detention.”

Ian’s head shot up. “Sir I wasn’t......” he stopped short as the teacher held up a finger to silence him.

“I said no talking Weaver. That means you too!” The other kids in his group snickered some more and began teasing again though much more quietly as soon as the teacher was out of earshot.

“Fuckin’ goodie, goodie,” Jessica almost hissed at him.

Ian clenched his teeth and swallowed hard, wanting like hell to tell her to keep quiet but not daring to, knowing he’d be the one to get caught, he always got caught. After the experiment was finished and the lunch bell rang he walked back to his desk, grabbed his backpack and reported to his mother’s classroom.

He took his seat and they ate in silence. “Go and get your books now,” she said as the period was nearly to a close.

“I have to go to the bathroom too ma’am.”

“You have five minutes.”

He nodded a “yes ma’am”, got up from his chair and went down the hall to the bathroom. As soon as he stepped inside he stopped dead in his tracks, three other guys were in there, one talking and the two others with their arms around each other, their lips rubbing against each other’s.

The one talking turned to him and started to chuckle. “Better stop it guys. Saint Ian is here.”

The two other guys turned and glared at him quickly letting each other go. “Oh yes,” Mark Johnson, one of the two in the lip lock, said rubbing his hands together. “We heard about your stellar speech this morning.” Ian’s eyes darted to the floor. He was hoping since these boys were two years older than him, seniors, that they wouldn’t have known, but apparently word spread fast. His fleeting feelings of arousal at seeing the two kissing were now completely gone as fear replaced any pleasant tingling.

He cowered back as Mark advanced on him followed closely by Jason; the one Mark had been kissing. Mark reached out quick as a flash and grabbed Ian’s shirt collar flinging him further into the bathroom. After some stumbling Ian regained his footing and pressed himself into the corner of the room as the three boys advanced on him.

“Don’t hurt him guys.” Nathan Greene, the one who’d first spoke upon Ian’s entry, said shaking his head. “He has a right to his opinions, stupid as they are.”

Ian looked from him to Mark and Jason and was quite certain by the looks on their faces they did not agree with Nathan.

Mark was on him again grabbing his shirt collar and slamming him back into the wall which hurt enough by itself but with the bruising and scratching all over his back it hurt twice as bad. He groaned as Mark slammed him again. When he was suddenly let go of he quickly got down into a crouching position and put his hands up over his head. It was all he knew to do.

“God dammit, you little shit, ain’t you even got the balls to fight for your convictions.” Jason shot out above him. “What a fucking little coward.”

Ian was jerked forward and he felt the bottom of his shirt being bunched up. He was hauled to his feet by his shirt tails then suddenly released. He kept his hands up for a few more seconds. When nothing seemed to be happening he slowly lowered his hands and looked at the three boys.

All three of them were staring at him wide eyed. None looked pissed off anymore but he couldn’t quite read this new look other than it appeared to be some kind of surprise.

“Your dad do that to you man?” Nathan asked his voice quiet.

Ian shook his head in confusion having no idea what the guy was talking about.

“Well then who did?” Jason asked his voice no longer sounding angry. “Your mom?”

Finding his voice, his curiosity getting the better of him Ian asked, “What?”

“Your back.” Nathan said pointing at him. “Who beat the hell out of you?”

“I don’t get beat.” Ian snapped feeling a sudden need to defend his father. He had no idea why, he hated the man, but hearing someone make that accusation unnerved him for some reason.

“Well then what do you call it?” Jason asked.

Ian wrung his hands together and looked down at the ground. “I get punished. For when I’m bad. Like everyone else.”

Mark let out a bit of a snorted laugh. “Everyone else? Man what kinda world you livin’ in? Parents don’t cause scars and bruises like that. No matter what a kid does wrong.”

Shaking his head Ian wrung his hands together with more ferocity. “Well maybe most kids aren’t as bad as me.” It was meant to only be a thought, it wasn’t meant for him to say out loud. He bit his lip and shook his head again. “I gotta go to class.” He said quickly trying to step through their group.

“Bell hasn’t even wrung yet.” Nathan said pressing a hand into Ian’s chest stopping him in his tracks. “Ian you don’t have to live like that. You can tell someone.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Ian snapped feeling as scared, as he was angry. “Now let me go, please.” Though they didn’t look like they had any intention of doing any such thing they stepped apart and Ian hurried through. He was so distraught over the entire situation that he didn’t even remember he had to go to the bathroom until two classes later.

Not wanting to risk another run in while in the bathroom, when the bell rang to signal the last period he just went to study hall figuring he’d held it this long he could hold it another hour. That afternoon when he got home his mother walked off into his father’s office and he took the opportunity to relieve himself. When he walked out of the bathroom he saw his father’s office door was closed and immediately got nervous.

The door being closed right after school like this more times than not meant that his mother had something to report to him. Something that he’d not done right. Thoughts of the speech, the talking in chemistry and even the conversation he’d had in the bathroom during lunch came to mind. He was a ball of roiling nerves by the time the office door opened and his father stepped out. His father pointed out at him then into the living room.

Ian snapped to attention and walked into the living room. His mother sat in her recliner while his father stood in front of the couch. Ian walked over and stood in front of the TV, a TV that was only on for one hour every day while the news played. It was where he was to stand if a punishment should happen to take place in the living room. He stood rigidly, facing his father’s chest, his arms held tightly at his sides.

“Seems your English teacher was not too impressed with your paper today. You want to tell me why?”

He swallowed hard knowing no answer would ever be good enough. “He felt I was only reiterating the bible. That I didn’t give any of my own opinions.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“I didn’t say anything.” His father advanced on him and Ian fought not to take a step back, attempting to hold his ground for as long as possible.

“And why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wasn’t asked a question.” His head quickly snapped to one side as the flat of his father’s hand struck him full force.

“You don’t need to be asked to spread the lord’s word!” The man bellowed his mouth less than an inch from Ian’s ear. “When someone questions your teachings you tell them how it is, HOW IT MUST BE!”

Quaking in his shoes Ian nodded. “Yes sir,” wondering why couldn’t he ever get things right. Why did he always choose the wrong thing to do? Why did he still not know when it was okay to speak up and when it wasn’t?

His father took a step back and Ian turned his head back so he was again staring at the man’s chest.

“Now how about you explaining to me the situation of you chatting away like the heathen you are when you were supposed to be doing your lab work?”

Ian’s heart quivered that was two things, two things he’d be very sorry for, very shortly.

“I wasn’t talking sir, I didn’t say one word.” Again his father lunged at him and again he was hit sharply in the side of the face.

“WHAT DID I JUST GET THROUGH TELLING YOU?”

Too scared now to think rationally Ian shook his head. He caught a glimpse of his mother knitting away in her chair and wondered for the eighty millionth time why she couldn’t stick up for him, just once. His father’s hand lashed out again catching him on the other side of his face. Instinctively Ian took a step back which set his father off. The man grabbed him roughly by the shoulders turned him around to face the TV then pushed him roughly so he was bent over it. Ian stayed in this new position as his father continued to scream at him and tug at his pants.

With his pants now around his ankles he heard the familiar ‘swoosh’ of his father’s belt being pulled from its loops. He stayed there leaning over the TV set as the belt crashed into his rear a good twenty times. His hands were clenched, and his face wet with tears.

“Now I’ll ask you,” his father’s breathless voice rasped out. “When people are talking in class, when they are distracting you and others from their duties what are you to do?”

Ian took a shaky breath and lifted his head slightly off the television. “I need to tell them what they are doing is wrong.” He tried to make his voice sound strong but was still crying so that was nearly impossible to do.

“And what book of the bible is best used to admonish wagging tongues?”

Ian shook his head having no idea at all. He recalled a few but had no idea which one his father thought was best. “I don’t know sir,” he squeezed his eyes shut again as the belt launched another attack, this one just as long and just as painful as the first. When it stopped this time he was yanked up by his arm and jerked back to his father who again lowered his mouth to Ian’s ear. “You’ll take every glass, every dish, and every piece of silverware out of the cupboards and wash them. If you miss one, if you leave a spot on any of them, you’ll find yourself spending the night in the basement.” The man jerked him forward then pushed him across the room sending Ian, his pants still around his ankles crashing into a bookcase. He hit it so hard that a few of the books came out and hit him in the head.

He whimpered from the pain of the crash, the pain of the books and the pain of his very blistered rear scraping across the floor before he’d come to a stop against the bookcase. Knowing he had no time to sit there and let his wounds stop screaming at him he quickly got to his feet and pulled up his pants. He bent down in a whirl of pain and picked up the books put them back in their place, and then hurried off to the kitchen.

It was well after seven o’clock before he got every dish washed. He joined his parents who’d already eaten at the dining room table. His mother handed over the list of his assignments to his father then took off to the kitchen to inspect his work. He stopped himself from fidgeting with nerves as he stared at the table awaiting instruction.

“Math first.”

Ian pulled his math book out of his bag and set to work. Though he couldn’t concentrate that well what with his mother’s inspection going on in the next room he managed to get them all done and handed the paper over to his father. He was then ordered to read his English assignment, then his History which his mother returned in time to quiz him on. At just after nine with his homework done, quizzed, and inspected his mother and father left the table and went to his office while Ian awaited his fate on the outcome of the dish inspection.

His father returned to the table about five minutes later. “You can sleep in your room tonight. The church picnic is this weekend and you’ll be helping your mother prepare for it the rest of the week. As soon as you get home every day report to her. She’ll instruct you on what needs to be done And if I hear any more reports of your misbehavior at school this week you’ll spend the whole weekend other then services in the basement.”

“Yes sir,”

“Isn’t there something else you should tell me?”

Ian nodded again rehearsing his words in his head before he spoke them. “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.”

“You may go shower and cleanse your filth.”

Ian stood up quietly, pushed in his chair then quietly left the room and ascended the stairs. He was very thankful he didn’t have to spend the night in the basement. Very thankful his mother hadn’t reported a problem, and very thankful he got to sleep in his bed under his warm covers.