Page 2 of No Kind Words

My brain catches up with my heart and believes him. We stay still, silently lost in our thoughts, until the sky darkens and twilight descends around us.

“I’d better go. You’ll be missed if we stay here much longer.”

I draw back from his embrace, sit up, and pick up my clothes. We dress, but he doesn’t look at me like he usually does. Doubts creep in. Is he telling me the truth? He hasn’t lied to me before, so I smile and press a quick kiss on his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, love. I’ll be here.”

He climbs down the ladder and slips out of the barn door. I gather up the blanket and shake it out. The hay flutters around me, then rests on the floor again. The condoms and lube are tucked away in an old box no one would think to look at.

I check to see if it all looks normal, then get down the ladder. There’s a shadow by the door. “Hey, did you forget something?”

The shadow moves into the light, and my father emerges, his belt in his hand. The sneer on his face tells me all I need to know. He’s found out. Can I brush it aside, tell him he’s got it all wrong? It’s worth a go.

“Hey, Dad, what’s up?”

Before I can move to get past him, his fist flies out and hits me square on the jaw. I fall to my knees. “You filthy, dirty faggot. I know what you’ve been doing and who with. You disgust me. No son of mine is a fucking queer. You stink of him, of sex, you pervert.”

The belt comes down over and over. The harsh metal buckle breaks the skin on my hip and back. When his foot joins in the fight, I curl up into a ball and cover my head, desperate to shield it from his feet and fists. Blood runs down my head and back. How am I going to survive this? Another voice, high and shrill, full of fear, breaks through the daze. My mother’s.

“For god’s sake, stop. That’s enough, you bastard. You’re going to kill him. I’m calling the police.”

Then darkness envelopes me.

When I step into the barn, there’s something different about it. It feels cold, hollow, like it would echo if I spoke aloud. The hay loft is quiet. No soft light from the lamp Jethro usually has on the ground. I climb up the ladder, and the place is empty. There’s no sign of us ever being here before. What the hell is going on? When I step off the ladder and walk to the bales, Jethro’s dad appears from behind the tallest stack.

Everyone knows he’s a mean bastard who drinks too much and gets heavy with his fists when he hits a rage. He straightens his shoulders and flexes his hands. Hands that already have scabs and broken skin over the knuckles. Fear for Jethro floods me. The fact that his father is here proves that he knows about us.

“What have you done to him?” I’m grateful that my voice is steady and the words are strong and loud.

“Me? What have I done to him? You’re the deviant who’s been corrupting boys. How old are you, Benny? You’ve gotta be ten years older than him. Is this how you get your rocks off, fucking school kids? What’s the town gonna say when they find out what you’ve done?”

I’m only seven years older than Jethro, which could cause a scandal in this small town, but I doubt it would last long. Jethro is an adult, and we’ve done nothing illegal. But judging by his red face contorted in anger, his father is beyond being reasoned with. “Where is he? Where’s Jethro?”

“He’s gone. Good riddance. I’m not having some shirt-lifter degenerate in my house. So unless you want everyone to know what a filthy piece of scum you are, you’ll get out of here too.” He cracks his knuckles, and as much as this crazy fucker scares me, I’m not running from him.

“What. Did. You. Do. To. Him?” I enunciate each word as I step closer. I won’t win in a fight, but I’m standing up for Jethro and myself. There’s no shame in who we are.

“I did what a man should do when they have vermin in the house. I got rid of him. Now unless you want the same thing to happen to you, you’d better get the fuck off my land.” He puts his hand behind his back and pulls something out of his waistband. A belt, a thick, heavy leather belt. Fuck, did he kill him?

“You piece of shit. I’m calling the police.” I fish my phone out of my pocket.

“Yeah, you try that and see where it gets you. Now get out of here, out of town, before I tell everyone you’re a fucking paedo.” He points to the ladder with the belt.

I step back but don’t turn around. I don’t want to have my back to him. He doesn’t move, his feet planted on the wooden floor, a look of disdain on his face. “You don’t scare me, you drunken piece of shit. I’ll be back, and you’d better let me see him.”

“Fuck off. Don’t you ever set foot on my land again. I’ll have you arrested for trespassing. Who’s the old bill gonna believe? The respectable farmer or the man who gets his kicks fucking kids?”

I take a step closer to him. “That’s a risk I’m prepared to take, so call them, old man.”

Instead of calling the police, he stomps past me and out of the barn. When I’m alone, I look around for any sign Jethro may have left for me, anything to let me know he’s okay. But there’s nothing, nothing to show we’ve been here for the last three months.

All night, I try to work out what has happened, where Jethro would’ve gone. The more I think about it, the less I believe he’s gone. The arsehole is bluffing. He’s done something to him. That belt was for more than to threaten me with. He’s hurt him. Jethro has told me about his tantrums and rants when he’s plastered, his days of drinking followed by shouts and arguments with his mum. That’s a point. Where is she in all this? I can’t imagine her letting Jethro be hurt. She could be scared of her husband, especially if he’s violent with her too.

It's market day. Jethro’s father leaves in his muddy Landrover, the trailer behind him with the sheep, his dog hanging its head out the window. I walk slowly up to the farmhouse door. With a shaky hand, I knock on the door. It’s all quiet for a minute. Footsteps approach the door, and it slowly opens. Mrs Palmer looks out nervously. “Oh, Benny, you can’t be here.”

She knows about us. Was it her who told on us? “What did he do? Has he hurt him? Please let me see him.” I don’t care if I sound desperate. “How badly is he hurt?”

She shakes her head, but her eyes flick up to the ceiling. Is he in his room upstairs? “Go home, Benny. You can’t come here anymore. Leave us alone, please.”

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