I'm on the outside
I'm looking in
I can see through you
See your true colors
'Cause inside you're ugly
You're ugly like me
I can see through you
See to the real you

~ Outside, Staind

None of this ever really happened…

I'd be hard-pressed to say who was the more brutal at Leythe – the students or the teachers. Violence is inherent in the system. Children left unsupervised become the most vicious bullies. Adults left unsupervised are worse. We were subjected to humiliation and physical punishment on both fronts, making our school lives utter hell. A trip to the office might leave you unable to sit down for days; they beat us until we bled. But anywhere without an adult presence was equally treacherous; more than one student broke a nose or lost a tooth being slammed into faucets, walls, chairs, and headboards. Neither could we turn to the adults for help. To be labeled a snitch was the worst possible state, making you the object of terrorism from both above and below. Leythe's code of honor required you never to speak of any wrong-doing.

Is it any wonder that the affection of another was so welcome to us in those first few years? Sexual encounters invariably led to praise and treats. I was a "good boy" for complying with his wishes and a chocolate was slipped into my hand. I was petted and kissed and fawned over. Whatever pain there was in the act was certainly no worse than that which came in more menacing forms and, in fact, was almost enjoyable as hearing him groan at the pleasure received through no effort on my part was very gratifying. For me it was the first time I had ever been successful at anything.

More importantly "belonging" meant protection, much as I imagine it does in the modern penal system. Once I belonged to James, I was largely left alone. I might not be able to tell the teachers about the bullies but I could tell James. The network of older boys was such that retaliation would follow any threat to one of "theirs". The one time I was tripped in class, my assailant received such a beating he was unable to return to class for the rest of the week. Yes, there were definite perks to being cute and willing.

We knew what we did was sinful of course. We were taught that in Chapel. The same priest who was fucking my friend Sean after the service would tell us that carnal lust was the most evil of all. Murder even came off as a lesser crime since homosexuals and whores were rightly stoned by angry mobs. It made our secret activities all the more delicious.

I saw James at a concert last year. He seemed bored - as all well-bred upper class types are supposed to be. He had a lovely woman on his arm, his wife, he said - bored by her as well. I wondered what she might say if I told her James had been my lover for two years at Leythe, when I was all of nine. I wondered if she might be jealous of the passionate love letters he wrote to me, things I am certain he never said to her.

But perhaps she already knows all this. Perhaps girls in girls' schools grow up with the same understanding of the world we have – that none of this ever really happened.