Jasper
Christian music fills the house, and I hear my mom singing while she bakes cinnamon rolls for tomorrow morning. My dad likes having them before church and usually eats most of them without sharing. I hide my book under my shirt and quietly walk toward the back door.
"Where are you going?"
I freeze. My heart jumps as I turn to face my dad. "I was going outside for a walk…" Please do not see the book. Please, God.
He gives me a serious look and folds his arms. "Did you finish all your chores?"
"Yes, sir." I always finish my chores. I never miss them.
"What is that under your shirt?" He steps closer and holds out his hand.
Fear moves through me as I slowly bring out the book and hand it to him. I am not allowed to read any books that are not from the Christian section at the library. I pray he does not open it.
"Totally Joe?" He raises his eyebrows at me. "Did your mom approve this book?"
"No, sir." Lying will only make everything worse.
"You know this kind of book is not allowed. What is so special about it?" He flips through the pages and reads a bit. His face gets redder with every line. I already know what part he found. Joe has a boyfriend. When he looks at me again, I wish I could disappear.
"Go get my belt."
"No," I beg. "Please, not the belt. I am sorry I took the book."
"Now, Isaac!" he yells.
My mom steps around the corner of the kitchen. "Tom? What is going on?"
He waves the book at her. "This is the problem. He is reading a demonic book that promotes homosexuality."
She gasps and puts her hand on her chest. "I didn't know he had that kind of book. I am sorry."
She does not defend me, and it hurts. She only wants to be a good wife and avoid making my dad angry.
"You need to watch him better, Joy." My dad turns back to me. "I told you to get my belt. Go!"
My legs move like he ordered, but inside, all I feel is fear. My stomach twists as I walk into his closet to take the leather strap and bring it back to him. After that, I try to make myself small on the inside while he hits me with the belt. I cry out every time, no matter how hard I try not to. Dad never stops until he hears me in pain.
When he finishes, I pull my jeans up quickly. I try not to cry in front of him.
"Now you need to repent and ask God to forgive you."
I do not look at him. I just close my eyes and say the prayer he expects. "God, please forgive me for reading this book and hiding it from my parents. Please wash away my sins and cover them with the blood of Jesus. In Jesus's name, amen."
Do not ask me why I must say the part about the blood of Jesus. I do not understand it either. I only know Dad gets angry if I do not say those exact words.
"You can go now, and I never want to see a book like this again. I will talk to the library. They should not have this on the shelf. My son is not gay and does not need Satan trying to turn him that way. If you start to have those thoughts, we will take you to Pastor Dan and get the demons out of you."
I do not argue. I just walk out of the room, then out the back door, and start running into the woods. Tears pour down my face. Branches scratch my skin, and I trip over sticks scattered on the ground. When I reach a small open space beside the creek, I drop to my knees and cry into my hands.
"Hey… are you okay?"
My head snaps up. A boy stands nearby. His black hair is messy in a stylish way that makes him look a little older, but he seems close to my age. He walks toward me, and I notice that his deep blue eyes shine with tears of his own. He squats in front of me and repeats softly, "Are you okay?"
I cannot answer because of my crying. He gently takes off my black-rimmed glasses, then pulls his shirt over his head and uses it to wipe my tears. His kindness only makes me cry harder.
He sits down and pulls me into his lap, hugging me tightly while I sob against his bare chest. I probably should find out who he is before letting him hold me, but nobody ever holds me like this. And I need it. I need it so much that it hurts.
The boy is bigger than I am, and right now that makes me feel safe. I am much smaller than other kids my age and wish I could grow taller.
When I finally stop crying, he loosens his arms and hands me his shirt so I can blow my nose and wipe my face again. "I am sorry," I whisper, but I do not move away from him.
"It is okay. Everyone needs someone sometimes. Do you want to tell me what happened?" He shifts so he can see me better, but when his leg brushes my backside, a small whimper escapes me.
"What is wrong? Did someone hurt you?" His voice lifts with worry. When I still do not answer, he gently lifts the back of my shirt just enough to see the marks on my lower back. "Jesus… Who did this to you?"
"My dad…" My back does not even show the worst of it. My butt is much worse. Dad is not good at aiming and sometimes hits too high.
"We should tell someone," he whispers, lowering my shirt and looking into my face again.
"No… if they take me away from my parents, I will end up in foster care. I just need to be better," I say, mostly to convince myself.
"What is your name?"
"Isaac Matthews." I feel myself cringe the moment I say it.