Page 94 of Quiet
“Answer me, Isaiah. Unless you want to be in here for the rest of the week.”
Isa pondered which answer would be least likely to get him a beating. He didn’t want to be too injured to continue his search, but he couldn’t bring himself to pay lip service anymore.
He settled for a little cough and a moan.
See? I’m already broken enough. All you need to do is leave me here to reflect on my mistakes for another day, and I’ll be putty in your hands.
He didn’t expect her to fall for it. She’d enjoyed his morning beating far too much to think she’d pass up giving him another. This morning had been a challenge. He’d been dragged out of his closet by his cousins and thrown on the floor in front of his mother and father. He looked to his mother. She’d always been soft on him in the past. Where his father would use a belt, she would use a rolled-up newspaper, and she only hit him half as many times.
There was no softness in her eyes. She wouldn’t even look at him. No, she’d only gazed at his father supportively. His father’s eyes had held the fires of hell.
Isa sat through a disgusting, drawn out speech about morals, his lack of them, and how only by suffering now could he be spared the fires of blah blah blah . . . He’d tuned the rest out. He knew the speech by heart at this point.
He must not have appeared contrite enough. Or maybe his father really had finally had enough. He set Rebecca on Isa and then walked away. Usually, he would observe and eventually tell her when he thought Isa had had enough punishment. This time she’d kept going until she was exhausted.
Today must have been like heaven for Rebecca.
There was a good chance he’d gotten broken bones from that encounter. Every time he moved, his ribs cried out in protest. Another beating like that would likely send him to the soft fairy-magic place for good.
Maybe she was tired from the morning, or maybe she wasn’t as awful as Isa thought she was. Instead of dragging him back out of his closet she said, “You can stay in there and reflect on your mistakes until tomorrow.”
It seemed too good to be true, but Isa wouldn’t pass up the gift of luck. All he had to do now was conserve his energy until everyone was asleep.
The magic in his mind pulsed softly, calling to him. He ignored it. If he wanted the life he knew he deserved to have, he couldn’t get lost again. The dreams of Briar made him too happy. He wanted to live there forever.
No, if he was going to stay awake, he needed something else to focus on. He needed to be angry.
Isa wasn’t good at being angry. It was better to not dwell on the bad things—it was easier to let all of the mean things people said and did roll off his back when he didn’t.
Maybe it was time to start dwelling on some of the bad things. Like the ache in his arm from when Rebecca stepped on it this morning. Or how long it had taken for him to realize he was gay because he had no positive queer role models in his life. Or how it had taken meeting Will before he realized being gay wasn’t a bad thing. And how it had taken meeting Briar to realize he deserved to be loved.
His family had taught him to hate himself. To doubt himself. To hide every part of himself in order to survive.
A thousand years wouldn’t be long enough for him to forgive them.
The fairy magic was a distant speck now, no longer inviting him to come and play. Now it cowered in the back of Isa’s mind.
He held that space inside him until he burned with it. Until he began to think terrible things. The anger made him feel stronger and filled him with power. For a moment, Isa believed he could burn the entire house down with little more than a thought. Just one little push and everyone who had ever hurt him would be gone in the blink of an eye.
What. The. Fuck.
Isa recoiled from his thoughts so hard he found himself slamming against the back wall of the closet, causing all his aches and pains to flare up simultaneously. What was that? That wasn’t Isa . . . was it?
He didn’t have the power to do such a horrible thing, and if he did, he would never actually do it. Yes, his family was terrible, but Isa couldn’t hurt them. He couldn’t even walk past a busted duck without helping, he certainly wasn’t going to burn his childhood house down to the ground.
He did a full body shiver and regretted it immediately. His injuries went from a flare-up to a full-on revolt.
At least he wasn’t in danger of falling into the happy fairy-magic place anymore. Though he was starting to wonder if maybe there was an angry fairy-magic place inside him somewhere too.
If Isa ever met Briar’s ‘cousin’ again, he was pushing him into a pond. Or maybe a toilet.
* * *
After that, Isa had no problem staying awake until his family settled down for the night. Rebecca even made sure to tell him goodnight by kicking the closet door on her way to bed. So considerate.
When he was certain everyone was asleep, he snuck back downstairs and continued to rifle through his father’s office. He’d only been at it for half an hour before striking paydirt. If he’d only been brave enough to keep going a little longer last night, he wouldn’t have had to go back to the closet at all.
He scrambled to get his phone so he could photograph the accounting book he’d found hidden under a loose board behind the desk.
