Chapter

Submission and Betrayal

"Lift yourself Joe."

It was evening when he awoke. Tom had brought up some chicken soup and even went as far as to spoon feed him. It took effort to obey. His neck gained back some of its muscle control but ached immensely. Joe strove to do as he was told, hiding the effort it took to obey as great as he could. Tom had little to say to him during this time. He wasn't angry at him, it didn't seem, but reserved, like he was waiting to see how this experience had affected his behavior. He wasn't going to give him an "adda boy" nor an admonishment until Joe told him which direction he should go. Joe had already made up his mind to submit. He was just waiting on Tom to see it.

"Get some more rest. Scotty will be up soon enough."

Minimal effort had been taken to clean him before laying him down and he still felt this discomfort, but he was not going to complain. Joe laid back and stared at the ceiling.

His eyes remained weary long after. Though he tried to close them and go back to sleep his mind didn't quite drift away like it should have. Maybe the room was too bright still. Maybe he felt just too uncomfortable. Maybe there was too much on his mind.

Tom came up with Scotty in what seemed about an hour more. Father helping his son to get dressed and ready for bed. He lifted the blanket so the boy could crawl in next to Joe. Joe's first instinct when Tom left was to turn over and cradle the boy. Joe had a fundamental need to hold onto something familiar. An ache within him that longed for a fleshy form. But he fought this urge, pushing this feeling far away. Not that he didn't think Scotty needed it too but he could not do that anymore. He could not give in to that sort of weakness. He had to be stronger if he was going to do what he needed to for Tom.

The boy next to him cuddled the green blanket around he and Joe and curled in, pressing his blond hair into Joe's side. This only caused conflict within him. He could not give in. He could not give the boy what he sought. Joe responded none to this affection but to shed a single tear which the boy did not lift his head to notice. He laid stiff, hardly moving at all and stared at the ceiling.

They are not friends. They are both just trying to survive. He could do no more for the boy. He repeated in his head.

Just survive.

Scotty became heavier. His breathing changed, indicating that he'd fallen asleep. Joe laid unmoving for a while more, not even to look out that familiar window. The window that offered him hope and gotten him through so many horrible nights. There was no point on looking out there anymore. There was nothing for him.

He clamped his eyes and forced himself to drift off.

~.~

The next morning, found him in the tub washing away the weeks of torment.

The bruises that came from the beating he got after lunging for the letters in Tom's hand were now in their prime. He hadn't had an opportunity to see them until now but there was a deep full-bodied darkness to them. The bruises from the last major beating had already begun to fade. These newest ones overtook the older ones. He had no idea how his back looked or how it would continue to look in the coming days. He could imagine the same as the ones he could see, or much, much worse. Still not knowing if any parts had cut open during the worst of it. Bent over that board, flailing at the felling of the wh-. He didn't want to think of that word.

He gulped and shook it away.

There was shame in these markings and he felt it. As much as he wished to believe otherwise, he felt there was. If his family could see him now... they would turn from him and he new it.

They had already given up on him. Seeing these marks would only give credit to their conviction.

Would he ever be able to gain back their love? There was no guarantee in that. He dreaded the possibility that he might actually end up living his whole life here. If Tom really took on the task of turning him around, it may be an impossible task indeed. He may end up living here forever. He was just too far gone. He couldn't imagine a life here. This he could not endure. He hadn't the strength for that. In this way Scotty was better than he. He was the strong one. He'd always been the strong one. He'd already been living this life. That was the first time he came to realize, that after all this time, it was Scotty who'd ben getting Joe through, all this time. It was Joe whom leant on him for support.

He stared at his reflection in the water. There, a marred scapegrace stared back. He only looked like that because of how bad of a child he really was. He was not worth a bit of anything.

I can't do this.

Still glaring at the water, his focus was no longer on his reflection.

It would be easier to end all this. He closed his eyes and took a few slow breaths. Slowly, he slipped further into the tub putting his head beneath the surface, opening his eyes to see the world above this glass wall. The world above waved with ripples. The sky was so beautiful. Starkly blue. Decorated with just a few white clouds. It was peaceful. Serene. One really prominent fluffy one that lay in his line of sight. He wished so bad to be up there now. To be apart of it. To float up into the sky and away from his troubles.

This could all end. If he was just strong enough. In a moment it could all be over. His lungs burned unimaginably. His body shot up out of the water without his control and he sucked in a breath.

Losing this battle didn't help his outlook. This only made him feel weaker.

He knew he was weak. Even after all the pain he's felt this entire time, he did not have what it took to end this. He just wasn't strong enough.

This went through his mind as the water drained from his head. He wiped the excess from his face and head and stepped out.

He had chores to do.

~.~

After a few days Joe had gained back his strength. He went back to his routine.

To his fortune, Tom had gone back to his work.

The days passed numbly. The workings have gone back to normal with Joe taking up the most of the labor while Tom hid himself in the shed.

The idea of having playtime was never an issue again. Joe didn't desire it anymore. Playtime was for other boys. Good boys. Not for boys who sought larks at every opportunity. Not for boys like him. Playtime for him would only lead to trouble. It always did. No, he had to put away the foolish things of his youth. It was time to start looking into his future. If he ever had hopes of having one.

In between meals, Joe was outside tending to the crop or tending to Mule. Feeding, cleaning and bathing. He always found something to do. Some way to keep himself busy so that Tom wouldn't have a reason to degrade him. Tom found reasons to get mad still but over time took it out on him less and less.

Maybe it was just his imagination but it seemed like the physical punishments had lessened, or he was becoming numb to them, but somehow they didn't seem as bad anymore. Joe was doing his very best to abide by Tom's will in everything he asked, no matter what pain it cost. Maybe he was doing it. Maybe he was becoming a good boy.

The strikes may have lessened, and for that matter so had the admonishments. At least he didn't come straight out and call Joe stupid and worthless.

What he was doing instead was making Joe say this of himself. Every time they crossed paths throughout the day, for every meal, every new chore or period of instruction, it was almost mandatory that Joe admit what he was.

Joe had come to accept this as a regular part of his routine and somehow even these admissions had become easier to say, as he came to terms with the validity in them. Each time he was made to say them, it was that much easier than the last.

In this way, the days past on almost in a fog.

~.~

Looking back, Joe doesn't remember much about these days. Just a few of things that stood out in his mind.

It was, thereabouts, the fourth day, Joe walked across the court yard with a sandwich on a plate. He knocked and waited for Tom to give him permission to enter.

"I've got your lunch for you, sir." He said, setting it on a small table by the door, as he had been trained to do. Joe remained there waiting for Tom to either prompt him to say what he wanted to hear, or give him permission to leave, or even still, give him further instruction on what he expected next of him, what chores might have come up; but Tom did none of this.

He was staring at Joe with a compelling curiosity. He was noticing something for the first time, that Joe had been doing every time he came in. He was keeping his face turned away from the rope.

That rope that was still hanging there, that same rope he saw himself hanging from days ago, he could not bear to look at again. Tom became perceptive of Joe's aversion for the first time.

"Come here." He commanded. "Bring that sandwich over." Joe flushed as he picked the plate back up. "Set it on the desk." He kept his face lowered as he walked past. When he reached the desk, he sat the plate back down and turned to leave but Tom caught his arm stopping him. He turned back. Tom motioned to the rope. "You know what kind of people hang from that rope?" Joe knew but couldn't voice it. "Thieves, vegabonds. Those who can't function in normal society." After this declaration he finished with one profound question.

"Are you that?"

~.~

Days more went by. I would like to say that Joe had seen the last of his own physical abuse. That his only torment now was the mental abuse this boy suffered. The constant mind games that Tom would play. That, and being forced into the role of servitude and helpless observer, being forced to stand by and watch the abuse of the young son. The young son, whom he was not allowed to save, no matter what.

For, although Joe's punishments were falling short; Scotty's punishments carried on with a certain regularity.

Unbeknownst to Joe, this was exactly Tom's intention, to not touch Joe with any real force. To return the boy to his family without scars or marks that would signal them to any wrongdoings or foul play. For both their sakes of course, because Joe was just as at fault for the things he did that forced Tom to act out in the way that he did.

This would almost have been a true statement, for this was Tom's intention but Tom had a weakness. He could look over most behavior if he set his mind to it, but one thing would set him off more than anything else in the world, like a sledge hammer striking a nerve, would be the sound of a dish striking the floor.

Joe had seen Scotty on the tail end of this and would forever be scarred by it. On this day, it would be Joe that would make this fated mistake.

Coming from the kitchen one night, bringing out the plates of food he had cooked up, with the shaky grip of malnourishment meeting over exertion, Tom's plate had slipped from his grasp and shattered to the floor. With it, all his dreams of being a good boy had crashed with it.

Oh my God.

Joe froze staring at the mess, wishing it weren't true. As expected, Tom stood. The sound of chair legs scraping against the wooden floor was just as ominous as the towering figure.

"Oh God! Please. I'm sorry. Please." He couldn't hear Tom's curses. Not over the swooshing in his ears.

He didn't need to discern any one reprobate over the others. They were all the same. "Careless child. You did this on purpose. You no good miscreant. You can't do anything right." These words washed over him but were drowned out by his own panic.

Normally he would agree with everything but now he considered nothing but shielding himself from the blows as they came and begging the man for mercy.

Joe found himself on the floor once again as he did his best to ward off the blows. Grunting at each kick, each punch. Begging for leniency between strikes.

As brutal as this was, this would be the last beating he would get from this man during his stay.

~.~

Joe was doing it. He was proving himself to be a good boy. Oh, he had gaffs now and again but he was getting through them, without disappointing Tom in any major way. He was proving himself and Tom was seeing it.

There was one major test left to be done, to know if Joe had really changed for good.

Looking back, Joe should have seen it coming. But at the time he had no forethought that he would be tested in this way. He should have seen it. Not that he could have changed his circumstances, or his behavior but at least he could have prepared his young mind.

Joe had awoken to Scotty being drug out of bed. He'd watched silently as the boy was tied and whipped. He watched with clenched fist. Each strike making him flinch and his heart thrum. He kept his movements small and face as cool as he could manage. Though these beatings were bad, they were something he had numbed himself to. This was not where the true test lay. The test came when, after watching countless strikes fall upon the bound child, Tom stopped suddenly and turned to Joe.

"Now Joe. Do you believe Scotty deserves this?"

There was horror in that moment, that Joe struggled to subdue. Not just at having to watch what was happening and unable to step in but now at this new line of questioning. Forced to give voice to something he would have believed was absolutely wrong 5 weeks ago.

Now he wasn't so sure.

He did know the answer. He knew what Tom wanted to hear and he just had to speak it.

"Yes." He said before he could talk himself out of it. But it didn't stop the wave of guilt that washed over him.

Tom evidently was happy with his response because he smiled triumphantly. Now, he could have stopped it then and there and that would have been enough to ruin Joe, but getting what he wanted he pushed for more.

"And why does he deserve this?" He asked, yanking Scotty's head back, so he would look at Joe. The bruises on his face were molding to pastel greens and yellows. Joe knew he didn't need to revive any, but the boy was on his own path, Joe reminded himself.

"Because he's too old to be wetting his bed." He said brusquely. "He should know better."

Joe did everything he could to not look at Scotty. So as not to see that pitiful look of betrayal because if he did, he would not be able to keep in his own tears.

Tom, getting what he sought, pushed Scotty's head away and walked out. Scotty lowered his eyes shamefaced. It hurt Joe to do it but they weren't friends. They could never be. Not in this world. Joe just had to do what he had to to get out of here and never look back. Scotty braved to look out at Joe again seeking for his friend, hoping that he would still be there but Joe turned away ashamed to meet his face.

It was from that moment on that they never locked eyes again.