J. Salsbury - Fighting to Forgive

Its almost midnight, but I cant sleep. The pounding of adrenaline still floods my veins. Riding high on the rush from earlier today, I stare at my ceiling while Iron Maidens Wicker Man blares through my headphones. My fingers drum against my Discman in perfect time with Nicko McBrians snare hits.

I force my mind to the mundane world of freshman year of high school, finals, and which cheerleader Im asking to the homecoming game, but even that doesnt calm me. My thoughts keep going back to this afternoon. I breathe through the rush of excitement.

It was stupid. Sneaking around made it more exciting, but if I get caught No, next time Ill take better precautions. I cant riskBoom!

My bedroom door flies open and slams against the wall. Oh shit! I rip off my headphones and jump to my feet. Light pours in from the hallway. Shadows of men, hunched low to the ground, filter into the room. My heart slams against my ribs, and icy fear rockets through me. I try to run, but strong hands seize me at every limb.

No. I buck hard against the hold. This cant be happening.

Fighting will make it worse. A man, his face masked by the dark, tightens his grip.

Its a dream; it has to be. My head spins, and I search for consciousness. Wake up. Pain from the violent hold on my body confirms my fear. This is real. My legs shudder with each panicked breath.

Help! I lean toward the open door, praying my parents can hear me.

A shove to my legs drops me to my knees. I try to punch, but a man pulls my arms tight behind my back. The cool metal of handcuffs surrounds my wrists.

Dad. My voice cracks. Mom, Braeden. I thrash. My shoulders burn. Let me go.

I dont understand. Where is everyone? Did these guys get to my family first?

Dread and fear chip away at my strength. I swallow against the ache in my throat. Im outnumbered, outmuscled, and overpowered, but I refuse to sag into their hold.

What did you do to my family? I can barely hear my own words over my heaving breath.

Hang in there, kid, says the man at my back, too casual to be comforting.

This is bad. Take whatever you want. I wont call the cops, just let us go.

The dense silhouette of a man fills the doorway. I squint into the darkness, fearing the worst. Is this the one wholl finish me off? He steps farther into the room, and I drop my head back to see his face.

Oh, thank God.

Dad. I try to break free, to get to him, but Im held in place. Help me, theyre holding me. The words tumble from my lips before whats going on around me sinks in.

I stop struggling.

My dads not helping me. And the men who busted into my bedroom dont seem surprised to see him. My blood turns ice cold, and a chill runs through my body.

Hes sending me away.

Dad? I search his face for compassion but find nothing close. Dont do this.

He warned me this would happen. Threatened to send me off if I didnt stop.

A flash of what my future holds lies in the compassionless faces that study me now. Trained monkeys who live by orders, brainwashed to give up their free will. Thats what he wants from me. Fuck no. I jerk hard, and my joints burn in resistance.

Stop fighting, son. My dad steps closer and squats to eye level.

The spice of his cologne rolls my stomach as my vision adjusts to his nearness. His military-approved haircut only makes his square jaw seem more angular. His mouth is a rigid line held so tight that the muscles in his cheek jump. The usual dark green of his eyes looks almost black, and I struggle to hold his stare. He studies me for a few seconds then grimaces. Even though its a look he gives often, its still upsetting.

You crying, Blake?

No, sir. I sniff back the tears that burn behind my nose and try to hide the fear that pollutes my veins.

The hell you arent, son. He shakes his head. And herein lies the problem. His words are mumbled. He pushes to standing then paces back and forth. I wont tolerate my teenage pussy-ass excuse for a son crying like a girl.

The room fills with the snorted laughter of the soldiers holding me. Even as my cheeks flame, I ball my hands into fists, and my muscles go rigid. My tears dry, and the roar of my pulse thunders in my ears.

As if that shit you do in your free time isnt gay enough, now I got you crying? Hes not asking a question.

I quit, sir. I told you that. I stare at the floor and hope he doesnt see my lie. The truth is, I cant quit. His threats to send me away and to beat the urges out of me havent cured me. Im helpless against the draw. But how did he find out? I was so careful.

He steps in front of me, and I can feel his eyes on my head. A liar and a pussy. Hes on the verge of losing his temper, and experience has proven, thats never a good thing. Youre just like your mother.

My mom. Shes the only one who knows. My head struggles for clarity. Why would she rat me out?

Then, I notice her small figure just outside the doorway. She watches helplessly, her hands wrapped around her stomach and her shoulders shaking in silent sobs. Present, but completely powerless.

I try to lock eyes with her, but I cant see her features well enough in the dark room. Mom, why? My questions freeze on my lips. She wont have anything to say. She never does when it comes to him.

Ive always been the strong one, taking every blow in my dads verbal assaults with my chin held high, proving that I can handle it. Its the best way I can protect her.

I suck in a deep breath and throw my shoulders back. If she thinks Im okay, then shell stop crying. Convincing her that I want what he has planned for me will make this easier on her.

Theres no looking to your mommy to save you. Not this time. How long has she been lying for you, Blake? When I dont answer, he shoves his steel-toed boot into my shoulder.

I rock back but refuse to fall. My usual plan is to diffuse his anger by apologizing and stroking his ego. But here, in the middle of the night, being held by a team of my dads men, with the knowledge that where Im going Ill be free of his daily taunts Im done eating his shit.

His intimidations may have worked on me before, but Im not his puppet, jumping with every pulled string. Heat coils behind my sternum and stokes the smoldering embers kept hidden for years into a flame. I drop my gaze to the green shag carpet and breathe deeply, allowing my anger to fester.

It was only a matter of time before you got caught. This sneaking around behind my back wont be tolerated. He crushes tracks in the rug with his combat boots just like he stomps through life, breaking spirits and leaving victims in his wake. First my mom, now me, and my brother will no doubt be next.

My men here are gonna take you to a place where soldiers are made. Wont have a choice but to man up around this crew. You hear me, boy?

Rage pulses from my chest, through my veins, and coils my muscles.

I asked you a question, faggot. Answer me. His demand for my cooperation echoes off the walls.

I cringe at the sound of my moms whimpering. He wont be ignored. One chance to cooperate is all I get. Its all any of us have ever gotten. Im pushing him too far.

For the first time, I dont care. My breath hits hard, and my nose flares to keep up with my intake of oxygen.

Answer me, you sorry son of a bitch! He puts the sole of his boot to my chest and shoves. Weak, just like your mother.

My body lists, but Im numb to his abuse. I tilt my chin up and lock eyes with him, glaring so hard my eyes burn. Shes strong enough to put up with your shit.