At the Mercy of Men

If Mary-Lou is to be believed, Credence was born in a shed from a woman of ill-repute, and could only be straightened out with the word of God. Mary-Lou had adopted Credence and vowed that she would protect his soul from all manner of corruption.

It was at Mary-Lou's feet that Credence had said his first words and taken his first steps. Ma, as he would grow to call Mary Lou, was a woman of sour disposition with a prominent gaze and acute smile.

In the early years they prayed together, mother and son, and asked for the blessings of God to touch them. They lived in a little house and were not rich, but they had each other and God watching over them. Credence spent his days giggling in circles around his ma as they sang hymns in the small kitchen, both occupants lost in the rhythms of salvation.


(Seven)

Credence always wanted to work at the Scamander's ranch. The Scamander's were one of the richest people in town. The family came from old money, and had migrated to the town in 1875, just two years ago. Credence had grown up snipping at Newt's ankles—Newt was the youngest son of two boys, and a little older than Credence.

It was on this ranch, that Credence had romped in the dirt, wore flower crowns, and kept all of Newt's secrets. Newt would whisper, when I grow up, I'm gonna be an animal doctor an' leave all this behind. In those days, Credence had been confident enough to talk back. Can I come with you? Newt would reply the same as always.

We'll leave this town together.

Credence's ma had taken to whipping his fingers when Credence couldn't finish a bible verse. Credence had laid in his bed, trying to solve his problems, and wishing that the woman who sang to him would return. Credence would imagine himself and Newt; they were high above the town and flying away. Late at night, Newt's promises would ring through Credence's ears. We'll leave this town together.


(Twelve)

Newt had left. He'd lied too, never even asking if Credence had wanted to even visit him up at that fancy veterinarian school. Newt never came back; he'd never left a single message to Credence either. Most days Credence can taste the bitterness. He tries to forget, helping ma with the church, and cleaning until his fingers are black from dirt and soot.

"Those people" his ma would mutter and shake her head, "God's gonna strike them down."

Credence mutters along with her, and they whisper together about the punishment God sends down on people who strayed from His holy message. Credence thinks about how he wants God to strike down friends who betray friends. Those days Credence tried the most, to forget boys with kind eyes and blinding smiles.


(Fifteen)

Gellert Grindelwald had called him a Nancy.

Credence hadn't known what the word meant, not truly. But he could imagine. When Gellert had said it, and the other boys had snickered, Credence hadn't hesitated. He'd launched himself, punching like a wild man at the older boy; he'd wanted Gellert to hurt just as much.

As Credence had limped home, he'd cried. He'd rushed home, steadily ignoring the whispers of his neighbors, as they gossiped about Credence's tears and the state of his clothes.

Both boys, Gellert and Credence, usually hid together in the church cemetery every Tuesday night. Every Tuesday. To Credence the practice had become a ritual. Gellert brought food, usually jam, and they'd grinned together as Credence sucked the treat from the older boy's fingers. Neither boy had mentioned anything, but even without a name, Credence had understood what it was. The unnamed thing that they shared.

Sometimes Gellert would bring Credence deep into the forest. Always at night of course, but Credence hadn't minded. They cuddled then, with straying hands, and silent heat and unsaid promises. The last Tuesday they had met, Gellert had kissed him. The older boy had shoved Credence, wrestling him to the floor for no reason, pressing him into hard dirt. Gellert had chuckled, causing goosebumps to rise on Credence's skin. Their lips had met almost reluctantly, before Gellert took charge of the kiss, and Credence was drowning.

Gellert Grindelwald had called him a Nancy.

Credence never trusted another boy after that. Boys were like bees and honey, he'd decided. They attracted you with sweetness, and never mentioned that they could sting.

When ma comes home that night, she beats Credence when she notices his tears. He never gets around to asking what she'd heard about him or why he is being punished.


(Twenty-One)

Percival is dark power, wide brim hat, and intense eyes. Credence avoids him.

He has long since grown numb to temptations from men. The only time Credence really sees them, is when he glances up from handing out ma's Sunday pamphlets. He doesn't. Look up that is. These men scare him; they remind him of his ma, shouting brimstone and holy fire to every non-Christian. Ma has long passed the stage of praying to save Credence's soul. Now she beats away his sickness like it is a block that she will slowly chip down to nothingness. Sometimes Credence wonders how much of him she beats away.

"Are you gonna come inside?"

Credence looks up, peering through his lashes at the man that has spoken. Percival wipes the sweat gathered on his forehead. Percival leans against the entrance of his house and tries to usher Credence inside.

"Won't you come in?"

Credence hesitates, responding "I don't think my ma would like that."

Percival reaches over to softly hold his wrist, and Credence tilts up to peer more carefully at the other man's face. Credence can hear his heart, a loud drum hammering in his ears. Credence's hand is sticky with sweat from where Percival's skin has touched his. Why was he holding Credence's hand where everyone could see?

"Come in" Percival speaks again, tone low and demanding. Credence tries to tell himself that he is not captivated by the movement of Percival's lips. Coyly, Credence removes his hand from Percival's grip, and takes a tiny step inside.