Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The community needed someone to adopt me. There wasn’t enough room for someone of my age anymore. If there wasn’t a family interested, then I would have been sent to go live in foster care. I wouldn’t forget the day that he decided to adopt me. They were a couple, but it was him that decided to take me. 

I’m not even sure why they wanted to adopt anymore kids. After they brought me home I found out that they already had twelve children – all of which were theirs. They were just as shocked as I was when I was introduced to them. I didn’t know if any of the children had any protests of me being there – none spoke out of line. They had seven daughters and five sons from ages three to seventeen. They all had the same blond hair and bright blue eyes. 

The eldest, Mary, was already engaged, ready to be married as soon as she turned eighteen. Her soon-to-be husband, Nathanial, thought highly of her father and agreed to move into the house next door on their farm. The farm that he, John, owned was over 75 acres of farmland. Currently, only ten acres was used for actual farming, while the rest was untouched. The actual house that I stayed in was surrounded by a thick forest, deep inside the property. By car, it took a good fifteen to twenty minutes to reach the main road. 

Most of the children were too young to do much of the work around the farm, so John decided that he either needed to hire a worker or find other arrangements. After the news of my parents dying, John’s wife was so stricken with worry over me, that they came to a mutual agreement to adopt me. I was 16 at the time and perfect for farm work. Most of his daughters were focused on their studies, which were taught at home. When they weren’t studying, they were milking the cows, feeding the chickens, or cleaning the house – fairly menial work. 

John’s two oldest sons, Peter and James, who were only fourteen and twelve at the time, tried their best to help around the farm. They helped their father plant, maintain, and harvest the assortment of crops that they grew. This year, John decided that he wanted to use another acre of his land to expand his farming operation and thus needed the extra help. 

It was difficult being around so many children at once. Even though John had made a house that more than accommodating for fifteen people, I often found myself bumping into people. Sherry makes fun of me, saying it’s just because I’m clumsy. She’s only thirteen, but she’s quite the character. She’s very smart and can perform more of the strenuous labour on the farm compared to her sisters. 

“If you want to survive at our house, you can’t let everyone push you around.” She sneers, tying her soft blue head cap onto her braided hair, “Wait here a moment, I have to grab something.” 

I wait awkwardly on the wooden staircase; I’m not allowed a foot inside any of the girl’s rooms – no matter how old they are. John had made it clear from day one that since I am not related to any of his daughters, that if I am caught spending too much time with them or in their personal space, I will be punished accordingly. That was a few weeks ago, and even though I feel more comfortable around the family, I won’t dare cross that line. I keep to my space on the third floor. 

Sherry returns, holding a small basket, “Ok ready!” she races down the stairs and out the door. The sky was already clear, the sun just peaking over the hills. It was bound to be hot today which is unfortunate. The work on the farm tends to work up quite the sweat, especially when you’re required to wear jeans and a long sleeved, button up shirt. Sherry and I walk down the beaten path to the barn. She often feeds the horses first thing in the morning and then tends to the other animals. She believes the horses are the most important animal on the farm – they do all the work ploughing the land and are the only source of transportation other than the truck. 

She waves me goodbye and I continue to walk past the barn and to the edge of the corn rows. The plants were growing quite high and the corn was just barely beginning to form. The other two staples – wheat and barley were growing quite well. I could see my two new brothers waiting on a wagon for me.

“Josh, father said that we had to water the crops today.” Peter sits on the old wagon. I climb onto the seat next to him and look over the vast crops ahead of us. Toward the end of the property is a water wheel. While the family used it primarily to make flour, it is useful to open small flood gates that lead to the ridge and furrows along the field. It isn’t hard work. 

Once we arrive at the rickety wooden water wheel, I jump off the small wagon and make my way up to the building attached to it. If it was damaged, the family would be caused much grief. Not only did it make it easier to control the irrigation system, it allowed the family to be self reliant on its crops. The cost of bread had risen recently and feeding a household of fifteen people would be expensive.

I open the door to the building. Gears attached to the waterwheel on the outside turn constantly. The three floors above me are not well lit unless someone opens the shutters. Normally the building was used during the end of the harvest so it was normal for the windows to be closed. Constant grinding of all the connecting gears was a good indication that there weren’t any issues with the mill. I grab the lever to open up the building and hear the water immediately reroute. 

“We’ll be back when the water almost reaches the end of the furrows!” James shouts and the clip clop of hooves begins. Deciding to check out the rest of the mill, I climb the wooden staircase in the corner of the building until the second floor. Everything is kept in pristine shape, although you never know when any part of the building could be in need of repair. I continue up the stairs to the top floor. It’s dark up here so I open up one of the wooden shutters. Something shuffled in the corner of the room. Damn rats. Some of those kittens should be brought over here.

I turn to look out of the window – it’s facing away from the river and onto the crop with the house in the distance. I can see Peter and James almost halfway to the end of the rows now. They are good brothers, they don’t poke fun at each other (much) and listen to their parents. After their morning chores, they often join their sisters for a daily school lesson and then gather wood for John’s wife, Anna. The days are quite consistent, and so far, fairly normal. 

Other than the farm work, the other activity in which I am not used to are the biweekly church gatherings. John is a religious man. He believes in bringing his entire family to church twice a week and attend community events. Mary was able to be matched with Nathaniel after John noticed the man’s participation in their community. The family man also plans to do the same with all of his children. I’m not sure what he has in store for me, but I continue to just listen and not ask questions for obvious reasons. 

James and Peter arrive back at the watermill, waving to me. I quickly close the wooden shutters and on my way to join back with them, pull the lever to stop the waterflow. I jump into my seat beside Peter and notice an odd silence. James isn’t facing the front. He is sitting with his back turned to me, “What’s going on?”

Peter gives me a small smile, “Nothing, James accidently broke the barn’s door. We temporarily fixed it for the moment. He wanted to drive the wagon so, really, it’s my fault.”

“How did that happen?” I enquire.

Peter lets out a small chuckle, “We needed to back it up so I could load in some axes for this afternoon.”

Suddenly James is behind me, holding onto the backrest for dear life, his face completely pale, “Peter, Father is going to kill-”

“You’ll be ok brother.” Peter assures, “We’ll fix it after our studies with mother, you’ll see.”

The boy does not pay attention to his studies and expresses concern to his mother over and over and over again. I thought that it was quite odd that he was so concerned over how John would react. He normally did not give them too much of a hard time. Then again, I didn’t see them do anything particularly naughty.

“Mother, I think you should let me go out and fix it, before father gets home.” James urges. Small beads of sweat formed on his brow. 

“James, you have to finish your studies first. The door can wait.” She strictly instructs. 

“Please mother, I don’t want to end up in the-”

“You’ll be fine.” Mary cut him off, “Your father will not return until nearly evening.”

“Mother.” James urges one more time, “Father hasn’t done anything since Josh-”

“Enough.” Anna sits him back into his seat along the kitchen table, “You are to finish your exercises and then you can go out and fix the door.” I look at James questioningly. He gives me a quick glance and realises that he made a terrible mistake – whatever that was. Is he afraid that John would beat him? 

The table was oddly quiet after that. Even the smaller children could sense that something was off. There must be something that I don’t know about John, that they were hiding from me until now. I didn’t press the matter, everyone seemed to be stressed out about the thought of John becoming angry. 

After studies, James and Peter chopped wood quietly with the occasional grunt. I notice their slow pace. Usually they were quite motivated to ensure that they bundled enough wood for a few days, but now they had more pressing matters to be concerned about. 

The door to the barn is in worse condition than Peter made it out to be. The hinge had bent inward as the door had been pushed in an angle it did not normally move. A piece of wood had snapped partially from the metal hinge and left a mess of splinters around the door. To boot, they hadn’t noticed the damage on the wagon – the back had been partially pushed inward, making the wood fragile to carry anything in the back.

I put in more effort to get the job done, with good cause, as both Peter and James looked sicklier than before. I try to get their minds off whatever they were worried about, “So what do you suppose is for supper?”

James looks at me angrily, “It doesn’t matter. I’m not hungry.”

Peter elbows him in the side and shakes his head. We load up the second, undamaged wagon and return home. 

The sun had begun setting and the food from the kitchen smells tantalising. Mary had been simmering a stew all day and it was almost ready. Each of the girls had set the table and finished up the final bit of their chores for the day. 

Peter and James never did fix the barn door. 

The entire family stiffens up as soon as John arrives home, and that’s not even into the house. As soon as the old truck could be heard rumbling down the road, the entire family hushes and takes their places at the table. I take one out of respect and wait for John to arrive. The door creaks open and is followed by a tired and heavy sigh. The tall man comes into the kitchen and takes a seat immediately. Mary smiles at her husband, but I know that John can tell something is off. The man looks around the table slowly, at each of his children, and then reaches out to either side. The two at the end, James and Isabelle, take his hands. 

“Almighty Father, we thank you for this food we are about to eat,” John says, “and allowing us to be blessed with another sustaining day.” He immediately releases his children’s hands and takes a hold of his utensils. 

“How was work dear?” Anna inquires, that smile never failing to leave her lips. I am beginning to suspect that it might be forced or at least a reflex. John works with the King on the days he isn’t needed at the farm. He was one of the few people who is highly educated, or at least higher than most people. What he did for the King; I have no idea.

“Oh the usual.” John says in-between bites. John is your typical family man. He is the bread winner; he takes care of his wife to the best of his ability. He is strong, he towers over myself, well over six feet, built like a bull. He never shaves his bristly stubble on his robust jaw. Around the family, he doesn’t say too much, usually because he is exhausted after working all day.

The family continues to eat in silence, and if I didn’t know any better, I would have said this was normal. I think John could sense it because he slowly lets his gaze circle around the table. Peter and James kept their attention on the food.

“What’s the matter with you two?” his rough voice asks.

“Oh John.” Anna assures, her mask starting to slip, “They just had a little bit of an accident today.”

“What kind of accident?” John set his fork and knife back onto the table, keeping his eyes locked on the two boys.

“Well James-”

“I backed the wagon into the barn door.” James blurts out, “I’m sorry Father, I didn’t mean to.”

“You what?” John’s eyes narrow, his fists slowly turning into fists, “What were you doing driving the wagon?”

“It’s my fault.” Peter attempts to look his Father in the eyes but backs down. He focuses back onto his uneaten meal, “I was the one who thought it was a good idea to teach him how to drive.”

Suddenly, John picks his utensils up again and begins finishing his meal. I slowly let out the breath I had no idea I was holding. The look of annoyance on John’s face is enough to not only scare me, but the rest of the family. Along with the rest of my new family, I begin to eat, watching John from the corner of my eye.

“After dinner, I expect you to wait by the basement door Peter.” His son stops eating and looks at his father with wide eyes. He opens and then closes his mouth, deciding that nodding was the safest option. 

Basement? The first day John brought me home, Anna showed me around the house. The first floor held the kitchen, family room, and dining room. The second floor had the girls’ rooms and of course Anna and John’s room. The top floor was where all the boys slept. There is an attic, but Anna said it was only used for storage and there’s not much up there beside dust and old clothes. I remember Anna was going to give me a tour of the farm, but I noticed a heavy wooden door as I took the final two steps down the staircase. 

There was a small hallway that led probably no more than a few feet away from the base of the staircase. The small crevasse was so dark, I barely noticed that there was anything down there. When I first followed Anna up the stairs, I thought it might have been a mistake in the design of the house. The door was tightly fitted to the frame. There was barely a quarter of an inch between the floor and the bottom of the door. The large brass doorknob had a large cross etched into the metal, with a keyhole in the intersection. Two padlocks  from the outside shone dully in the hallway – the only reason I saw the door in the first place.  Each lock hugged the doorframe tightly and securely.

“What’s in there?” I asked her.

“Nothing.” Anna’s smile wavered slightly, “You won’t need to go in there. Hopefully.”

I remember barely being able to hear her mutter the final word under her breath. I wanted to question it at the time, but she changed the topic so quickly that it was onto the farm tour.

I glance up from the table. Anna is wiping off a bit of food from the corner of Conner’s face. She doesn’t seem to be upset with John’s words. Conner is too young to understand, as well as Zaharias, Jacob, and Hannah. They are whispering to each other and trying to keep their giggles down. The twins, Olivia and Sophia hold hands under the table and both watch Peter out of the corner of their eyes. 

I exchange glances with Sherry, but the moment we do, she quickly evades the gaze. James stopped eating a while ago, looking pale. Anna must have noticed because she asks him if he’s feeling alright and he shakes his head. Anna takes him upstairs to his room. Mary and the second oldest, Rachel, say nothing but continue to eat albeit faster than normal. 

Peter eats slowly and John doesn’t say anything more. They both don’t leave, even after everyone else has. 

In the middle of the night I wake. I’m not sure why. Maybe I was having a nightmare, but I can’t remember. I sit up and look around the room. The moon’s soft light shines through the window onto the wooden floor beside my bed. As usual, Jacob’s nasally, choked inhales fill the room, an unbearably noisy sound that would keep you up all night if it weren’t for the hard labour tiring you out at the end of the day. 

I decide I’m thirsty and make my way downstairs, but at the bottom I stop. There’s very faint light shining from the bottom of the basement door. It would have been impossible to see during the day, but since the corner of this house is so dark, it’s visible. I can’t seem to move from my spot. I strain to hear anything from my position but there’s no sounds other than the whistling wind outside. 

I shake my head and decide someone must have left the light on. I quietly move from my spot and enter the kitchen. I open one of the cupboards and grab a small glass. In the pantry, there are ten bottles of water and I take one of them to fill my glass with the water Peter and I filled a few days ago from the well. It tastes like copper, but it satisfies the thirst. 

I wash my cup with the leftover water from Anna’s basin and put it back. On my way back to my room, I stop to look at myself in the small mirror Anna placed before the hall. A set of hazel eyes look back at me and I push my brunette bangs from my face. 

I recall on the second day since my arrival that John made some snide comments about my hair being too long. I suppose it is a lot longer than any of his boys, but certainly not as long as the girls’. My hair certainly is long at the front, I have to brush my hair away from my eyes, but the back is short, barely touching my neck. He didn’t say it to my face surprisingly but mentioned it to Anna. I wasn’t in the room at the time, but from the top of the stairs, I heard John making a bit of a fuss.

“He looks like a girl. I didn’t adopt a girl. I adopted a boy.” His voice bellowed. 

“Oh, John dear, he works very hard and he’s doing a very good job so far. Please give him a chance.” Anna softly persuaded. 

“He better be workin’ hard. I didn’t choose him for slackin’.” John mumbled, but loud enough to echo through the house. 

“Besides, he’s almost an adult, if not already. He knows how to dress and take care of himself.” Anna pushed again. I remember her voice wavering.

“If he really knew that, he wouldn’t present himself as a fuckin’ fairy.” John raised his voice slightly. The accusation stung, especially since I already had the impression that John didn’t really want me in the first place. 

The memory of Anna’s sad voice made me want to go back to bed, “He’s been alone for so long, please just let him have this one thing.” 

From that day forth, every time John would pass him on the farm, through the hallways, or at church, he would eye my whole body up and down twice. His facial expression didn’t change, but I always assumed inside he battled criticising me. 

Suddenly I hear the creak of a door opening. I pear around the corner and immediately pull myself back against the kitchen wall. John and Peter were in the process of leaving the basement. That’s right, Peter never returned to bed that night.  

“I want you to go to bed.” John whispers, but his voice still carries down the hallway, “I don’t want you talkin’ to any of your siblings about what happened, especially not Josh. Is that clear?”

“Yes Sir.” Peter’s voice comes out small and raspy. 

“Good. Now off you go.” The basement door closes, and the three locks are put in place. Then, I hear Peter’s light set of footsteps tip toe up the stairs followed by John’s heavy ones. I peak around the corner just in time to see them disappearing onto the second floor.   

I’m wide awake now. My heart is thudding in my chest. I step forward, touching the bannister, trying to see if John is still in the hallway. I hear a door click shut and I make my way as silently as I can to the top of the stairs. I double check the hallway and relax when I notice that John’s door is indeed closed. I make my way up to the third floor and sneak into my bed before even Peter notices. 

I hear Peter’s sniffling for a few minutes but it soon turned into solid, deep breathing. I want to check up on him but I remember John’s warning. Why doesn’t John want me to know what goes on down there? It doesn’t make any sense.

I didn’t sleep that night. 

Chapter Text

Saturday means we spend most of the afternoon at church. First there’s a two-hour mass which starts at one, then all the women come together and begin preparing a meal, and around five everyone sits down and eats dinner together. 

This morning Peter didn’t look any different from yesterday. No bruises, cuts, scrapes, nothing. The haunted look at his face suggested otherwise, but he insisted that he was fine. He even forced a smile. Strangely enough, none of his siblings bothered asking if he was ok. They carried on with the normal routine and acted like nothing even happened. 

Before we leave for church, John had Peter, James, and I work to fix the barn door. It didn’t take as long as I thought, and the door even looked better than before. John didn’t say anything the entire time, not even mentioning James’ reckless driving or Peter’s irresponsibility. After last night, whatever happened, the family returned to normal.

Soon enough, we squeeze into the family truck, with some of us older kids sitting in the trunk. It’s covered so we don’t ruin our clothing. Peter is looking through the window. There’s bags under his eyes, but mine do too. 

“Mary, it’s almost your birthday, you must be so excited!” Rachel claps her hands together. Her long blond hair drapes across her shoulders. 

“Of course, who wouldn’t be!” Mary flattens her floral-patterned dress, “Nathaniel will be an excellent husband. I’m so happy that Pa picked him out for me.” 

Mary’s bright smile lightens everyone’s spirit. Her birthday is next week and the wedding is next weekend. Nathaniel is a nice guy too. The first time I met him, I was struggling lifting a hay bale and he didn’t hesitate to help me, even with John’s criticism. He’s only a few years older than her and he often helps out on the farm. His family even offered a dowry if they could move onto the land and live beside the soon-to-be married couple. 

Of course, John accepted. 

He picked Nathaniel not only because of his involvement with the church community, but also because John had a very close relationship with the family. Nathaniel’s family hung off John’s every word. Maybe it is because they both share the same opinion on different topics of conversation, but it always seemed as though John led the bulk of the conversation. 

“I hope Pa finds someone for me soon.” Rachel crosses her arms, “I’m already sixteen.”

“He will soon enough. You have to be patient!” Mary encourages. Sherry, Rachel, and Mary continue discussing the wedding. What will she wear? What will the reception be like? I am happy for her, I really am, but I’m not interested in that conversation. I’m too tired. I can’t imagine going through mass without falling asleep, but I wouldn’t dare allow myself. Not after what happened last night, as vague as it was. 

Sophia and Olivia play some sort of hand clapping game beside me, I watch them for a bit but eventually my gaze finds itself fixated on both James and Peter. Peter hasn’t moved his eyes away from the window since the truck began rumbling down the gravel road. His hands lay softly on his lap and his shoulders slumped. At least he isn’t tensing up anymore.

James on the other hand seems anxious. He’s squeezing his hands into fists again and again. He looks like he wants to say something but Peter won’t give him the attention, so he settles on playing with a loose thread on his shirt. 

About halfway through the car ride, Peter suddenly moves his eyes away from the window and pats James lightly on the head. He smiles gently and returns to the window. James exhales and joins his brother and enjoys the passing scenery. 

“Josh!” I rub one of my eyes, I didn’t hear Sherry call me, “Hellooo!”

“Sorry, I spaced out. What were you saying?”

“I wanted to know if you wanted to play hide and seek with me after mass!” her chest puffs up, “Josh you need to go to sleep earlier! You look like a miner with those black eyes.”

I laugh shallowly, “Aren’t you supposed to be helping with kitchen prep?”

“Ma decided that I could watch over the young-ins so that she can help instead.” She says proudly. The ‘young-ins’ were all the children under age ten. James, Sophia, and Olivia usually stayed in the dining hall, drawing or playing card games, “I thought we could play a game together.”

 “Sure, I don’t mind.” She beams once I agree and explain the rules to me as if I’ve never played the game before. She explains that her siblings know where they can and can’t go. That’s a relief, because looking for five very active children could be a nightmare. 

We arrive shortly at the church and already there are several large groups of families ushering themselves into the large cathedral. John cuts the engine and opens the truck’s trunk. One by one we jump from the box and gather in a group. 

I never get tired of the impressive architecture of the cathedral. The impressive building could hold more than two thousand people at a time. From the outside, congregants see two high rising spires reach up into the sky. There’s a large stained glass oval picture of what appears to be a flower in between each spire and above the lancets.

John leads us towards the north entrance. Above the arches, a tympanum depicting two men facing a lion catches my eye. Every time I see it I gather more of the detail from the carving. So much work and attention to detail was put into this building. 

As usual, we sit in the middle of the left-hand side of the nave. John and Anna ensure that everyone has their seats before joining the other churchgoers in conversation. I stare at the high arches and the paintings decorating the high vaulted ceilings. The building is naturally lighted by the skylights and the surrounding arched windows. 

The clock nears closer to one and John and Anna take their seats once again. The choir of twenty stand and begin singing. I stand with the rest of the congregants and join in respectably. 

By the time the service has finally ended, I feel hunger set in. Thankfully two families always bring snacks. Most of the time it’s crackers, cheese, pickles, and other appetisers, but apparently, every once in a while, there’s cupcakes and cookies. Sadly, this time there isn’t any. 

“Meet me in the coatroom in five minutes.” Sherry says out of breath. 

“Alright, alright.” I say, stuffing the food into my mouth. She runs out of the gathering room and back to the nave. I look at the clock, it’s almost two, meaning that we’re probably playing hide-and-go seek for a while. I shove the last two snacks into my mouth and wash it down with water. 

Back in the nave, Sherry has already gathered five of her siblings and is explaining the rules, “Remember, you can only hide in the nave, lobby, coat room, crying room, or library. Pa and Ma won’t be happy if you go outside or go somewheres you shouldn’t be. Once you’re found, you stick with me until everyone is found!”

Five blond heads nod. Sherry puts her hands on her hips, “Okay! I’ll start counting and you all start hiding!”

A hold back a laugh as the children scramble off in separate directions, tripping but getting back onto their feet quickly. Sherry is holding her hands over her eyes and counting down from fifty. I watch the two youngest take their hiding spot in the nave and the other three leave the room completely. I leave as well, finding a space to hide. 

Jacob and Hannah make their way into the coat room, while Zacharias moves towards the baby room. I make my way to the library. I’ve always liked being there. The large room had three floors, each accessible by metal spiral stairs. The walls are lined with books and there’s even those sliding ladders on each of the book cases to climb up on. 

I wave at a few familiar faces and make my way up to the third floor. The staircase is tight, but sturdy. I continue all the way up and look down. Three tables with chairs gathered around them take up most of the first floor. There are two old couches next to the tall stained glass windows in the room. It’ll take Sherry a while until they find me. She’s probably already aware that I’m hiding here. 

I pass by a few bookshelves until I find the last shelf on the floor. At the end, between the bookshelf and the wall, there’s a small closet. There’s nothing in there but it’s large enough to fit my body in for an hour or two without cramping up. I settle myself into the closet and close the door behind me. A small stream of light trickles in from the cut-out lily design and allows me to keep an eye out for potential seekers. 

Although I’m surprised to see John with Nathaniel’s father and two other men making their way to the corner of the library. I consider leaving the space, but I decide against it. I’ll probably be made to look like a fool. What sixteen-year-old plays hide and seek? 

Well, if it’s for the children’s entertainment, Anna would argue that all teenagers should play hide and seek.

I sit very still as the four men take a spot in front of the closet door. A small fear in my mind hopes that the cut outs in the door aren’t large enough for them to see into the small space I’m hiding in. 

“The wedding is one week away.” Nathaniel’s father says, “Are the preparations complete?”

“Of course.” John smiles, “My family has been making sure that everything has been done in advance. Mary has even taken the liberty to prepare the house.”

“Excellent, I look forward to being your neighbour.” The man smiles. He’s a bit older than John – his hair is thinning and his beard already grey. He’s a bit overweight but always wears nice slimming suites. Nathaniel is his youngest child and apparently the only one that matters. His daughter ran off when she was seventeen and never returned. 

“Speaking of which.” Another man speaks. He’s bald, thin, and wears round, thick glasses, “Your second, Rachel, she’s gettin’ to that age, do you have a suitor picked for her?”

John scratches his stubble, “I had a few young men in mind, but I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

The fourth man speaks. He’s rough looking, there’s a scar running across his left cheek and patches on his chin where hair no longer grows, “What about that boy Josh?”

John laughs heartily, “I’m not marrying any of my daughters off to him. I don’t care if he ain’t related to them. An orphan ain’t got nothing to offer my daughters. ‘Sides, he ain’t nothing but a fruity, city boy.”

I knew John didn’t particularly like me but, I didn’t think I was that much of a disappointment. I’ve only been at the house for a few weeks. How would he know that I’m that soft? What does he mean by ‘fruity’?

Rough looking man laughs, “Well, if you need someone to marry Rachel, I have a cousin whose boy is quite the worker. I’ve told him about you and your vision and he seems interested.”

Vision? I never thought John had plans for anything other than what to plant for the season’s crop or his family’s involvement with the church. 

“Alright, well tell him that we can meet after the wedding to discuss my proposition.”

The man with the round glasses asks, “What are you going to do with that boy? When he’s of age.”

“Josh?” John sighs, “I’ve got to admit, the boy is a good help around the house. I’m not sure about his intentions of leaving once he’s eighteen. If everything goes as planned he’ll have to stay.”

“Well I’m sure someone who will be interested in him.” Nathaniel’s father says, “Anyways, how many more months do you think it’ll be?”

“Probably at least six.” John says, “I can’t imagine getting much done in the winter. It’s supposed to be a cold one this year. I suppose that we will probably work on a few of the structures, but I can’t guarantee we will finish everything.”

“I think it’s fine. Once there’s a house for everyone, the main building will be built in a matter of months.” The man with glasses remarks, “If you need a hand, my sons can help, although only on weekends.”

“That would be appreciated.” John says, “Have them come over tomorrow afternoon. We can begin the foundation for the next home.”

They continue to talk about building homes. How many they can build and how large. Then they finally leave the area. The topic of conversation changes dramatically: from construction plans to horses. I’m more confused than when they started. John seems very eager to marry his daughters off and start building relationships with other families. From the way he’s talking, it sounds like he wants to build more homes on his property. Perhaps as a way to earn income on the side? That still doesn’t explain his so-called vision…

I wait for what feels like another hour before I hear Sherry’s voice, “Josh, you’d better be on this floor! I’ve had to haul five kids up three sets of stairs.”

I suppose I could wait for a few more minutes. It doesn’t take long before one of the children sees the closet and puts two and two together. It is Isabelle who finds me. 

“I found Josh!” she exclaims as she opens the door. I reach out and pull her inside the cramped space with me.

“And now you’re trapped in this closet with me!” I close the door and she lets out a high-pitched squeal. She laughs and wiggles around until I let her barrel out of the closet. I emerge from my hiding place.

“Good lord Josh, we’ve been looking for you for over an hour.” Sherry says, putting her hands on her hips, “I thought that we could get through a few rounds of hide and seek but instead it turned into a manhunt.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d be an expert in this game.” I laugh. We corral the children back to the stairs and lead them down one by one. Before we leave I look at the grandfather clock. It’s almost four. My stomach grumbles and I hope that dinner is done soon. 

Conner tugs on my hand, his bright blue eyes looking up at me expectantly. 

“Alright, alright.” I sigh, giving him a small smile. I lean over and pick him up, placing him on my shoulders. He sits up straight and grabs a handful of my hair, “Ouch, Connor, not so rough.”

We return to the gathering room with the rest of the congress. The smell of home cooked food wafts through the air. 

“Ma!” Conner exclaims. Anna is wiping her hands off on her apron and looks towards our direction. She gives me a soft smile and waves at Conner. I grab the boy under his armpits and lift his off my shoulders and back onto the ground. He runs over to Anna and hugs her legs. 

“Come on Josh. I’m sure supper will be ready soon.” Sherry motions towards our family table. 

I’m about to join her when a feeling overtakes my body. I feel uneasy. 

I glance behind me and catch John scanning me from top to bottom. The earlier conversation echoes through my ears: If everything goes as planned he’ll have to stay.

I join Sherry at the table as quickly as I can.

Chapter Text

I have to admit, after overhearing John’s conversation with his friends and catching him staring at me, I feel unnerved. I’m not sure why. I suppose that I don’t want John to feel unhappy with my effort. I can’t exactly go back to the orphanage now. They’re much too understaffed and underfunded to take back an older kid like me. 

Fortunately, last night’s supper went by smoothly, nothing out of the ordinary. Even by the time dinner was over, Peter was back to his old self and James seemed to feel less guilty about what happened. I actually slept very well that night and felt refreshed this morning. 

As promised by John’s friend, three boys were sent over. They joined us for lunch. The man with the round glasses is named Samuel. He didn’t show up with the boys, but John mentioned him to Anna before Samuel’s sons arrived. Anna seemed very pleased with the new helpers. 

Two of the boys are a couple years older than me. The eldest, Henry, had already married. He told John how far along his wife was and how excited he was to be a father. The second oldest is engaged. His name is Vince. The youngest is my age. Oliver is a bit different than his brothers, very quiet but still polite. His hair is shaved short on the sides and back, while the top is much longer and flops over to the left side. He’s tall but very thin. He also is wearing a shirt much too big for his body. The sleeves almost reach the ends of his fingertips. John joked with Oliver about finding a woman soon and Oliver seemed to take the joke well, even for his shyness. 

After lunch John takes Peter, James, and I to where Mary’s new home will be. 

“We might have to chop down a few more trees, but it looks like we almost have enough space.” John says, looking at some blueprints he brought with him.

“Should we start measuring?” Henry asks, looking over John’s shoulder. 

“Might as well.” John and Henry take the measuring tape and pull it across the land, as soon as John steps back into the push, he shakes his head, “Looks fine. We can start planting the foundation.”

John asks me to go and get the shovels while they survey the land. Vince is an apprentice electrician and Henry a plumber. He wants them to thoroughly examine the area before making any changes. James and Peter are tasked with marking the land where the foundation will go.

“Josh, take Oliver with you. Bring back a horse and wagon.” John asks. Oliver looks up from where he’s standing and runs up to me. 

“Alright, let’s go.” I say, walking towards the barn. Oliver doesn’t say much to me on the way there, but that’s okay because once we enter the barn, I have to find all of the tools we may need and load them into the wagon. I find seven shovels and place them in a pile. I find two wheelbarrows and bring them alongside the shovels.

“Okay horse, horse.” I grab a bridle and a lead. Which one would be the best around all this noise? Probably Molly, she’s pretty good with the children running and squealing around her. She doesn’t even mind cars honking. Molly isn’t too far in the field either. 

“Can I help with anything?” Oliver runs up to me. 

I think for a second, “Maybe…can you put the wheelbarrows and the shovels in the wagon?”

“Yeah, definitely.” He turns around and runs back to the barn. I return my focus to Molly who is already trotting up to meet me. I duck under the wooden fence and slowly walk up to her. She sniffs my hair and lets out a large huff, “I know, no blond hair. Can’t confuse mine with straw.”

I place the lead around her neck and attach the bridle around her head. I give her a soft pat on her black head and I bring her back to the fence and around to the gate. She cooperates even after she sees Oliver pulling the wagon out from the barn. Oliver helps put Molly’s hardness on and we attach her to the wagon. 

“Thanks for your help.” I say, petting Molly’s face.

“No problem.” He says, “I’ve got to be useful.”

I’m not sure what to say at first, “Of course you’re useful. One more digger means we’ll finish the job faster.”

“I guess.” He says, walking on the other side of Molly. John tells James and Peter to remove the shovels from the cart while Oliver and I pull out the wheelbarrows. John gives us each a shovel when we move a wheelbarrow to the farthest two corners of the foundation. 

“We want to dig at least seven feet in. We won’t be able to get that far today, but we should be able to get at least half.” John breaks the first layer of earth and easily pulls it from the ground and tosses it into the wagon. Vince and Henry immediately fall in.

“I bet I can beat you!” James challenges Peter as they take the southwest corner. That leaves Oliver and I to begin digging the southeast corner. 

“I guess we’d better get to it.” I walk along the line Peter and James drew until I reach the intersecting line. I plough my shovel deep into the earth and pull the rich soil out with some difficulty. Either I’m getting some sore shoulders, blisters, or both by the end of the day. 

“You’re not from around here are you?” Oliver asks suddenly.

I realise that I obviously don’t look like any of John’s children, but…

“Pretty obvious huh?” I ask. My shovel pushes deep into the earth again and I struggle to pull out the earth a second time.

“A bit yeah.” He smiles softly, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s true.” I watch Oliver plunge his shovel into the ground and pull it out empty. Then, once again he pushes his shovel into the earth, although on the opposite side of the newly split dirt. That definitely makes more sense than what I was doing, “Mr. and Mrs. Miller took me in a few weeks ago. I used to live in town.”

“Took you in?” Oliver asks. He flings another mound of dirt into the wheelbarrow behind him. 

“Yeah, I lived in an orphanage just before this. I’m sixteen now, so I would have been kicked out eventually if it weren’t for Mr. and Mrs. Miller.” It’s weird though, even after only a few months, I have a really hard time remembering my parents. It’s not as though I was young when they died. It literally was six months ago. I don’t think anyone would understand if I told them how I am forgetting my family. I try not to let it get to me but maybe that’s the reason why their memories are fading so quickly. 

“Oh.” Oliver says, stopping momentarily, “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s ok.” I shrug, “It’s a long time ago. It doesn’t bother me.”

“At least you have someone like Mr. and Mrs. Miller to watch over you.” 

“Yeah.” I continue to shovel alongside Oliver for an hour or so. We start making considerable progress once the topsoil is removed. John and Oliver’s brothers are a bit deeper than us, but we’re definitely deeper than James and Peter. John must see this because he switches to a different end of the excavation to help his sons. 

At that moment, I feel it again; the cold icy stare of John’s eyes on me. 

I try not to look, but I can’t help but watch the man look me over from the peripheral of my eyes. John’s eyes don’t linger for long and finally he focuses on removing the remaining top soil. 

“So…” I conjure up any topic of conversation to remove my anxiety and erase the silence that fell between Oliver and I, “You’ve got two brothers?”

“Yep, just us three.” Oliver smiles. Two of his teeth are slightly crocked, “Did you…”

“No, as far as I’m aware, I was an only child.” I wipe my brow and pop the top button of my shirt, “But now I have twelve so there’s that.”

Oliver laughs. He stops shovelling, unbuttons his shirt completely, and throws it off to the side. Good idea. I unbutton my shirt as well and let it flap in the breeze. Without his oversized shirt on I realise that Oliver isn’t a twig I thought he would be. He’s quite built, although it may be the wife beater skewing my perception. 

 “Your brothers are tradesmen right?” I ask, “Are you working on that as well?”

“I don’t know.” He says, leaning against his wedged shovel in the ground, “I can’t decide what to pick. Everyone in my family is in the trades, so I know I’ll have to pick something.”

“How so?” If there’s something else he’s interested in, he should focus on that.

“You know: expectations and all that.” He takes a look at his hands, there’s a blister between his thumb and forefinger, “Damn. This is gonna be a big one.”

“Is there something else that you’re thinking about doing?” I pry.

He pokes at the blister, “Uh, I don’t know. I’m in 4-H and I like breaking horses, but I don’t think I can make a living off of that.”

“What’s 4-H?” When I ask, his head shoots up with a look of disbelief. 

“You don’t know what 4-H is?!” I shake my head, “It’s an organisation that a lot of kids join. 

You learn a whole bunch of skills like leadership, entrepreneurial skills, and teamwork by joining different types of projects. I work with horses, but there’s other projects you choose from. My brothers were in the Engineering project before they decided to become apprentices.”

He rocks back and forth, attempting to pull out a piece of clay, “They also have cooking, agriculture, woodworking…so many options.”

“Woah really?” I wonder how he even has the time, “That sounds like fun.”

“Yeah, families get involved too.” His smile drops slightly, “Although, Vince and Henry will have their own soon and Ma and Pa are busy, so I go alone.”

“That’s too bad. That must be tough.” I can’t say I exactly know how he feels but…I shake the thought away and I change the subject, “So your project is horses?”

I shrug off my flannel shirt, it’s getting much too hot. I feel disgusting, my wife beater is already soaked underneath my armpits. I wipe a beat of sweat from my brow before it falls into my eye. Oliver gazes at me inattentively, eyes glazed over, “Uh, Oliver?”

He shakes his head, “Oh sorry, I spaced out for a second. Horses. Right. Yeah, I ride horses a few times a week. They teach me how to care for them and how to properly train them as well.”

His emerald eyes move to the ground and he focuses on digging. What was that about? Was it something I said? “I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

“What?!” Oliver seems to snap out of his strange mood, “You know how to hook a horse up to a wagon, but you don’t know how to ride?”

“Never had time to.” I say looking over to Molly. Frankly, the thought terrified me. 

“I-I could teach you.” Oliver says, that shy demeanour rushing back.

“Really?” The offer brings about a feeling of absolute terror and excitement at the same time. 

“Yeah, maybe you could come to my place or I could come back here and I’ll teach you.” His crooked smile returns again, “It would be fun.”

Fun. Ha. But oddly enough I feel as though I can trust him to put me on an unpredictable animal. 

“I’ll see what John says.” I accept and his smile is so large it forces his eyes to squint. 

As John predicted, we accomplish half the task by dinner time. Anna offers Samuel’s boys dinner and they graciously agree. Anna cooked a turkey with potatoes and carrots, but I am so hungry that I really could eat anything.

John and Oliver’s brothers talk about constructions and next steps. We have to dig a few more feet and then set the foundation. Afterwards, both Vince and Henry will start working on the electrical and plumbing. I wait patiently until the conversation moves to a lull. 

“Um, Mr. Miller?” John turns his gaze towards me.

“What is it Josh?” he asks softly, but his tight-lipped expression gives away his annoyance. 

“Can I go to Oliver’s place or can he come over here sometime next week?” my voice wavers as his eyes slowly scan my body.

“Why?” he asks and the rest of the table becomes quiet. 

“I, uh, I want to learn how to ride.” I say and he smiles slightly for a second.

“Yeah that’s a good idea. About damn time you learn that. Yeah fine, Oliver, come on over on Wednesday.” He waves his mind and dismisses the subject altogether. Oliver gives me a huge grin from across the table, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

I’m looking forward to Wednesday. 

Chapter Text

Last night something strange happened. I was having a nightmare, for the first time in a long time. There was a man and a woman standing underneath a streetlamp, a shadow covering their faces. I walked towards them but the distance between us never seemed to change. 

The street lamp flickered out and eventually I was surrounded in darkness. I could hear a dripping from somewhere and a rat scurrying across the cobblestone road. 

Then an ear-splitting bang. 

The street lamp flickers on and I didn’t see anything at first. I finally made it to the streetlamp where the couple was standing only a moment ago. They were gone. I stood there for only a moment until something wet and warm dripped onto my head. 

I looked up and saw their shadows hanging from the post, swinging back and forth. 

I remember waking up in a frenzy, holding my chest tightly, trying to catch my breath. I started shaking when I realised that it was only a dream. That it wasn’t real. That this kind of thing never happened. 

Usually I don’t remember my dreams. They only leave me with lingering feelings like a fleeting thought of a previous life. 

I just about calmed down when I noticed a figure standing in the doorframe. A tall figure. I couldn’t make out any of the details. It turned and left the room, footsteps barely auditable.

“I think I saw a ghost last night.” I say to Sherry, “It was standing there, staring at me.”

“Josh, there ain’t no such thing as ghosts.” She slaps me over the head with her bonnet, “Souls either go to heaven or hell, they don’t stay here.”

I bite my lip, I don’t want to give her any indication that I’m not religious, “It just unnerved me is all.”

“Did you say that you had a nightmare?” she asks, sitting next to me on the stairs, “You could have been half asleep and imagining things. Fear does some strange things.”

“I hope so.” I whisper, “It just seemed so real.”

She pats my back, “Don’t worry, farm work will make you feel better. And ‘sides, ain’t that Oliver guy coming over today?”

I sit up straight, knocking her hand off my back, “Oh my god.”

“Josh language!” I hear Anna yelling from the kitchen.

“Sorry!” I lie and then turn to Sherry, “Oliver is teaching me how to ride today.”

“That’s great!” she beams, tying her braid around the top of her head.

“No, it’s not. I’m terrified.” I bite my lip, “I mean, being around horses, putting on their equipment, that isn’t hard, but trusting the horse with your life…”

“It’s not like that. You’ll see.” She stands up with her woven basket, “Ridin’s fun. Molly respects you, you just have to respect her. Remember that. Anyways, I’ve got to tend to the chickens. Good luck!”

Throughout the entire day I keep staring at Molly. I think I treat Molly well when I’m taking her out to work. I always give her treats afterwards and brush her body. I spooked her once, but she hasn’t taken it personally.

Look at me, talking about Molly like she’s a human. 

“Josh, stop daydreamin’.” John jolts me out of my thoughts, “Smooth down the cement or it’ll be uneven.”

“Sorry sir.” I finish flattening my part of the foundation and step back. John is great with construction, I don’t understand why he doesn’t do this for a living. The house he built for his family, and for his daughter for that matter, are well built. Nothing leaks and the structures are stable. They never sustain much damage after wind storms and efficiently keeps in heat. 

“Great. Finished.” He says, “Should just be a few hours and everything will be dry.”

I gather up the equipment and place it in Molly’s wagon. I nearly jump out of my skin when someone places a firm grip on my shoulder, “Josh, better get on Molly today. I’d trust her with my life.”

John removes his hand slowly, sliding his hand lightly down my back and walking away. My heart starts racing and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on their ends. I’m not sure if that was a friendly gesture or…

No. I’m just not used to having a father, or mother in that case. I can barely remember how mom and dad interacted with me to know any better.Even though last weekend John made it very clear that he didn’t think of me as a son, he’s probably just happy that I’m trying to learn how to ride. Why would he have given me that advice otherwise?

I hear another horse let out a neigh from a distance. I turn my head to see Oliver on a white and blank paint. Oliver looks so confident when he rides. He flashes me his crooked smile and picks up the pace.

“Hey.” He says when he finally reaches me, “Need a hand?”

“Oh, that’s alright. I’ve got it.” I say, putting the tools into the wagon carefully. It’s when my hands are empty that I notice them shaking. Why am I so scared? John didn’t do anything wrong. He was just being nice and I’m just used to him being thick-skinned.

“Excited for your first lesson?” Oliver asks me and I push the memory of John from my mind. 

“More like terrified.” I direct Molly back to the barn on foot while Oliver rides beside her.

“It’ll be fun, I promise.” He smiles, “Once you’re comfortable, you’ll want to ride with me all of the time.” 

“Ha ha, no.” I laugh. He jumps off his horse and helps me drag the wagon back onto the barn. I take the tools and soak them in a barrel of water that Rachel filled for cleaning. 

Oliver looks around the barn, “So, which saddle can you use?”

I point at the most worn down one amongst the rest. He raises his eyebrow questioningly but shrugs and tugs it off the wall. I meet Molly outside and detach the harness. She turns around and sniffs my hair as usual.

“She really likes you.” Oliver laughs, lightly setting down the saddle.

“Only because she knows she’s getting a treat.” I run back into the barn and scoop out a generous amount of oats. I place it in a small bucket and return to Molly, who has already attempted to follow me back, “Here you go girl.”

Oliver returns to the barn and grabs the bridle and blanket specifically meant for the saddle I’m supposed to use. He returns when Molly has just about finished her food. I look over to his horse, “What is her name?”

“Him.” Oliver says, “His name is Quinn. He’s a good horse, only a few years old now. I raised him since he was a foal.”

“Wow, you are good with horses.” I say genuinely. His coat is shiny and the muscles on his legs are well defined. Quinn stares at Oliver with expectation.

He blushes, “I-I guess.”

After I place the bucket back into the barn, Oliver shows me how to properly place the saddle on top of Molly’s back. First the blanket is placed on the wither, even on both sides of the body. Then, one of the stirrups is wrapped around the horn and gently placed on top of the horse. 

Oliver ensures that the saddle is even and in the right spot before showing me how to properly tie the billet straps. He shows me how tight the straps should be and then places the bridle on Molly’s head.

“Okay, she’s ready.” He grabs the reins from my hand, “Come on. Grab the horn, put your left leg in the stirrup and sing your right over. She won’t run off. I’ve got her.”

Molly seems taller than before. A lot taller. 

I take a deep breath and grab the horn. With some difficulty, I place my foot in the stirrup. 

“Okay, now push into your left and step up.” Then softly, “It’s like a ladder.”

“A ladder made of a thousand hundred pounds of pure muscle…” I mutter. Oliver catches that and laughs. I jump up and swing my right foot over Molly. I almost overstated how tall she actually is and almost fling myself up and over her completely. I grab the horn tightly and freeze, “Now what?”

“Hold on.” Oliver looks at the length of the stirrups on one side and then moves to the other side to investigate. He grabs my foot and places it in the other stirrup. Oh, I guess I could have done that myself. He steps back, “Looks like you’ve passed step one.”

Molly’s body suddenly shakes and I let out a small scream, holding the horn tighter than ever, “What did I do wrong?!”

“Nothing, she’s just got an itch.” Oliver pats my knee, “You need to take those hands off of the horn.”

“I’m going to die…” I double over, refusing to let go.

Oliver sighs, leaving me to the mercy of Molly. He returns seconds later with Quinn. He pries my hands off of the horn and places one on my hip. 

“One goes here.” He leans over and pries my other one off and replaces it with the reins, “And the other there.”

“This is how I die.” I sigh.

“You’ll be fine. Molly looks like a well-broken horse.” He pats my back, “See? You’re already doing well.”

“Good, now I can get off.” 

“No, now we can start walking.” I move my hands back to the horn.

“Already?” he pries my hands away from the horn again and places them in the right spots. 

“You won’t get better if you don’t try.” He picks up his reins, “All you need to do is squeeze gently. To turn, pull left-” he demonstrates pulling the reins left, “or right.”

He walks Quinn around Molly, turns around and walks him the other way. He showed me a few times before have the nerve to squeeze her body. She lurks forward and I immediately grab the horn again.

“Josh.” He says, he sounds like Sherry, “No, no. Hands off.” 

He rides beside Molly and completely releases his own reins to pry my white knuckled hands off the horn. He punches me lightly, “Stop touching that. It’s to tie the lead onto.”

“That’s what it’s for?” I say, “I thought it was a lifeline…”

Molly’s head bobs up and down as she walks. She snorts as we pass the house and doesn’t stray from walking a straight line. Oliver sits back in the saddle and looks at the sky. The sun will start to set soon. 

“Well, you’ve ridden for five minutes.” He grins, “Good job.”

I feel a bit more comfortable in this position than holding onto the small nub of the saddle. My core holds my spine straight and Molly walks smoothly. The end of the yard and Oliver encourages me to turn Molly around. I pull the reins right until she turns completely three hundred sixty-five degrees around. 

“This is actually pretty fun.” I say. Molly is so cute too. She lifts her head to gaze at the other horses. Her eyes are perked up and swivelled forward. 

“I told you!” Oliver laughs. He leans forward and hugs Quinn’s neck, “Horses are the best.”

Oliver’s tanned cheek squishes against Quinn’s white coat. He rubs his horse's neck gently.

After Oliver helps me remove Molly’s equipment, he helps me brush her down and return her to the field. Molly trots over to the other horses. We climb onto the wooden fence and watch the horses from afar. 

The sun is starting to set now and bright pink, purple, and red colours paint the sky. The air is slightly crisp and the loons from the lake are singing. 

I clear my throat, “Thanks again…I’m really happy you showed me how to ride.”

“No problem.” Oliver says, eyes still fixated on the horse, “I’m happy I could show you. Next time we’ll start running.”

I feel the colour drain from my face, “N-no way. It’s hard enough walking!”

“Then you’d better start practising!”

I ask Oliver if he would like to stay for dinner but he politely declines. Anna’s cooking as usual smells fantastic but he needs to be home before his own mother finishes cooking. He waves me off and runs off down the road. 

My eyes turn towards Molly, I’d better practise if I want to survive his next lesson.

Chapter Text

The church is full of family, friends, and distant relatives. Mary looks so beautiful in her wedding dress. It’s very modest but modern. A long veil covers her face as she walks up the aisle with John who is wearing a suit I didn’t even know he had. Anna’s eyes are full of tears and keeps dabbing a tissue under her eye. 

Nathaniel stands at the altar, hands behind his back, wearing the biggest grin I’ve ever seen. He’s clean shaven and dressed smartly in his black tux. He gently takes Mary’s hand and leads her to the spot beside him. John actually genuinely smiles. 

The wedding goes by quickly and without any hiccups. Soon enough they’re married and the family moves to another venue for the party. Mary and Nathaniel make quick speeches and finally it’s time for dinner. All the ‘children’, or anyone under eighteen, sit at the table furthest away from the married couple.

“I can’t wait till Pa finds someone for me.” Rachel sighs. She pokes her food. 

“Jez Rachel,” Sherry says, mouth full of food, “You can’t even get married for two more years.”

“One and a half.” Rachel spits back. Sherry rolls her eyes and focuses on the plate in front of her. 

It makes me wonder, what happens when I turn eighteen? John said he doesn’t want me to leave…but why?

“Josh.” I look up, Peter is pointing at me, “How’s the horse riding coming along?”

I sigh. First I failed at putting on the saddle and the last few times Molly trotted off towards the other horse when I wasn’t expecting her to, “Good, I guess?”

“I can always help if you need anything.” Peter brushes a piece of curly blond hair from his face, “I know how to ride too.”

“Me too!” Sherry says, her mouth still full of food. I look around the table, Rachel, James, even Sophia and Olivia nod their heads.

“I’m the only one who doesn’t know how to ride?” I exclaim, “Seriously?”

“Well, I mean, Jacob, Hanna…” Sherry says, intentionally rubbing it in. 

“That makes it worse.” Now I feel so stupid. Why didn’t anyone teach me a long time ago? I could think of a thousand useful things to do with a horse. 

“At least you’re trying. That’s all that really matters.” Peter encourages. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was the older brother. 

The caterers clean up everyone’s plates. The lights dim as Mary and Nathaniel walk hand-in-hand over to the dancefloor. A pianist begins to play a sweet, slow song as they hold each other closely. I hear Rachel gushing in both awe and a hint of jealousy as Nathaniel twirls her older sister around. 

The song ends and Nathaniel and Mary switch partners. John takes Mary, smiling and whispering something in her ear that makes her laugh. This is probably the most out of character that I’ve ever seen him before. Mary and John move quickly around the dancefloor to the upbeat song they chose specifically for this dance. A violin picks up the pace and soon Mary encourages the rest of the guests to come over and dance. 

“Josh, come dance with me!” Sherry tugs me out of my chair and I nearly fall flat on my face. She stops abruptly on the dancefloor and turns around, grabbing one of my hands and placing the other on my shoulder. I sigh, at least I know how to dance. She can’t make fun of me for that.

I lead, choosing ballroom style as the most appropriate dance for the song currently playing. She giggles as I twirl her around and catch her before she falls. Her braid almost touches the floor and I wonder why she didn’t tie it up as usual. Before I let her hair touch the floor, I yank her back up to her feet. The song stops playing and I feel a finger poking into my arm.

“Uh, Sherry, it’s my turn.” Rachel demands, not even bothering to ask me. I don’t decline though, because Rachel can become pretty scary if she’s in a bad mood. I’m guessing she could be in an especially bad mood tonight if she’s feeling a bit left out. 

She curtsies and I return the gesture. She places her well maintained hand on my shoulder and grasps my other hand gently. Her hands are soft unlike Sherry’s hard-working ones. Her lips are tinted pink and eyelashes covered in mascara. Her bright blond hair is fixed upright and two thin, curly strands of blond hair frame her face. She smiles, “Thank you for the dance Josh.”

I shrug and lead her along. I change my style of dancing yet again and Rachel keeps up with me. She’s a bit less clumsier than Sherry, but that is to be expected. Sherry is more of a tomboy while Rachel acts like a princess. Rachel usually helps out with Anna in the kitchen and doesn’t mind cleaning. She thinks that it’ll land her the perfect man or at least convince John that she’s ready for a husband. 

“How are you liking living with us?” she asks unexpectedly. I think for a moment, I’ve been feeling pretty out of place, but as time passes, I feel more and more at home. If I was closer to Rachel, I would bring up my worry about John not particularly liking me.   

“It’s nice. Your mother and father are really nice.” I say, spinning her around quickly, “It’s like I have a real family.”

She laughs, “I’m happy you’re feeling more and more at home. I never get to talk to you. You’re always on the farm and I’m always inside helping Ma. You’re really helping Pa out, he really appreciates it. He looks less worn out with an extra set of hands.”

That thought doesn’t sit with me right. I want to say that John doesn’t really like me, but she might just argue the opposite. Instead I see if she’ll say anything further, “Really?”

“Oh yes. Pa never has the time to work on his extra projects.” She says proudly, “Now that someone can take care of the daily chores, he’s able to go into town and prepare properly. He really wanted to build a house for Mary and eventually build a house for Mr. Hunter and a few of his friends. We’re going to live as a big community one day.”

“Hm?” I slow down, “A big community?”

“Yeah!” Rachel beams, “Pa wants to eventually build-”

A death grip on my shoulder freezes me in place. Rachel stops talking and immediately detaches her arms from my hand and other shoulder. Her face drains of her rosy colour, “Oh, hi Papa…”

“Would you like to dance my dear?” he holds his calloused hand out to her and she immediately takes it.

“Of course Papa, I’ll always dance with you.” She smiles. He turns towards me and signals for me to scram. I don’t wait around for a second longer. 

I leave the hall and scramble to the outside, taking a deep breath of cool summer air. My heart is racing. Did John think I was trying to court Rachel? She asked me to dance with her! I lean against the outer wall and grab my chest. 

I swear I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t have any feelings for Rachel. I have barely spent time with her since I arrived. We’ve always acknowledged each other in the hallways, asking how we both are, and continuing on our way. Sometimes she brings me lemonade when it’s hot and snacks in the afternoon, but that’s for everyone. I don’t get any special treatment. Besides Rachel is only interested in whoever John matches her with. She always fantasises about the men that her father finds. A man who is caring and romantic and hardworking. She has absolutely no interest in me and I absolutely have no interest in her.

The way that John stopped me makes me think that no matter what I say, he’ll never let me live this down. Who knows what will happen to me when we return home.

Maybe he’ll kick me out. 

“Hey kid. You ok?” My head shoots up. There’s a few men outside smoking from their pipes.

“Uh yeah, I’m fine.” I say, forcing a smile, “Just need some fresh air.”

I turn away and walk along the outside of the hall. Memories of last week flood back into my head. 

I’m not marrying any of my daughters off to him.

I see a small path leading away from the hall with a sign pointing to two other possible venues. The forest is a bit unkempt and flows overtop of the path. There’s another sign with a map. The path eventually circles back to the wedding.

An orphan ain’t got nothing to offer my daughters. 

I shove my hands in my pants pockets. Why’d he even bother adopting me? Why does he want me to stick around?

He ain’t nothing but a fruity, city boy.

I do chores around the house. I help him with projects. I follow his rules. What more does he want?

I reach the venue again but I’m too frustrated and upset that I turn around to complete the loop in the opposite direction. The moon shines through the foliage and crickets sing. In the distance, I can hear frogs croak and the smokers talking. 

Rachel asked me to dance, not the other way around. We weren’t touching inappropriately, and I didn’t try to touch her. I simply was dancing and making conversation. 

The conversation wasn’t it…right?

Rachel was talking about John’s dreams, or just barely starting to. It appears a lot of other families already know about what he’s planning to do and I’ll eventually learn too. Probably. 

Probably.

I take a deep breath. I look at the building ahead of me. There’s a larger crowd of men outside now. Some of them are holding beer and stumbling around. 

No one seems to notice me as I move past them. I squeeze in between two last men and enter the hall again. The party looks as though it’s slowing down for the children and heating up for the adults. That probably means we’re about to leave soon.

Thank god. 

Peter finds me in the doorway, “Hey, Ma says we’re leaving now.”

“Sounds good.” I force a smile. I follow him out to the truck where Anna is waiting.

“Oh good, you found him.” Anna pointed to the back of the car, “Let’s get going then.”

Anna hops into the driver’s seat – John must be drunk. The back of the truck is slightly bigger than before. James is laying on the seat beside Sherry, both passed out. Sophia and Olivia are sleeping as well, their heads leaning into each other and their bright blond hair tangling together. Peter leans against the window and attempts to shut his eyes. 

I didn’t see what time it was before we left, but it must be late if even Peter wants to fall asleep. After my heart attack from John, I’m too awake to even consider sleeping. I’m too afraid to get out of this truck when we get back to the house. 

I look over to Rachel. Her eyes are downcast. She’s fiddling with her fingers. 

I look back to Peter. His mouth is now hanging open, with a gleam of saliva hanging out the corner.

“Rachel.” I whisper. Rachel’s entire body twitches once, but she doesn’t look up, “Rachel, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did wrong I-”

“It’s not you.” She says, continuing to look at her hands, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why-”

“You can’t talk to me anymore.” She cuts off, then quietly, “Please, don’t.”

“Rachel.” I’m not sure what to say. Her eyes go dull and she doesn’t respond. She doesn’t even move for the rest of the trip. 

When the truck finally stops and the back hatch is open, John is standing there. His cheeks are rosy but his eyes are sharp, he’s not drunk, but he’s had quite a few. One by one, the younger children leave their seats. When it’s Rachel and my turn, John’s expression changes. His eyebrows crease together and his mouth turns down.

“Rachel, wait outside the basement door.” He says and that’s when I realise that he isn’t looking at her, he’s looking at me. 

Rachel nods and silently leaves the car. I wait until she’s left the truck and has almost reached the front door before raising myself. John hasn’t moved. He’s staring at me, waiting for me to get out of his truck. I feel a lump in my throat. I try to swallow it down, but it doesn’t go away. 

“Well? Get the hell out of my truck!” His voice is level and calm, but it feels like he’s screaming at me. I slowly lower myself out from the truck and step away from the truck. John slams the back hatch up and doesn’t move. He’s blocking my way to the house. I’m not sure if I should walk around him or stay where I am. 

He stands there, fuming. I lower my eyes to the ground. I don’t know why I feel ashamed or guilty. My heart is beating in my ears. There’s ice running through my veins. 

“You’re lucky boy.” John growls. I think he’s going to hit me when he suddenly jerks around, back facing me, “She’s promiscuous and she will pay the price. But if I ever see you with my daughters again like that, you’ll be going down to the basement.”

Chapter Text

I didn’t see Rachel after the wedding, but a few days later Rachel’s hair is cut into a short bob and she isn’t wearing makeup like she usually does – even though it’s normally very little. She sits at the very far end of the table, the furthest she could possibly sit from me. She’s very quiet but other than that the rest of the family acts normal. 

Like all of this is normal.

John leaves for work, patting Rachel on the head and kisses Anna goodbye. Rachel doesn’t stir, she stares at her breakfast with a blank face. When Anna instructs her to clean up, she does so mechanically.

Rachel’s reaction bothers me all morning. Peter and I are tasked with checking on the cattle but I’m definitely too distracted. Peter is constantly instructing me to check on specific cows and every time I barely register his voice.

“Josh.” Peter pokes me, “How were they?”

I snap out of my daze, I had been staring at the cattle but I didn’t really check on them. Peter picks up on this and sighs, moving towards the first one. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been...distracted.” I admit.

“No kidding.” He says, “Poor cows.”

At first, I think there’s something wrong with the one he’s inspecting, but then I realise that he’s talking about how careless I’m being. The cow sniffs Peter’s hair as he’s trying to inspect her legs. She continues to follow him when he goes to the next one.

“She really likes you.” I comment. The cow nudges him in the back with her head.

“Yeah, I raised her from a calf.” He turns around and scratches behind her ear, “She’s been bred with the best cows.”

The black and white cow pushes her head into Peter’s hand, clearly enjoying the scratches. 

“You raised her yourself? I’m impressed.”

He pets her on the head, “Well Pa showed me how to do it when I was smaller. Earlier this year one of the cows had a calf and Pa let me take care of her.” 

“That’s a lot of responsibility.” I say.

“This whole farm is a lot of responsibility.” He teases back.

“Touché.” We continue to inspect the cows. The sun is beating down on my neck. This particular plot of land isn’t as large as the fields. John doesn’t own a lot of cattle, there’s only fifteen in total, but I suppose you don’t want to have too much milk if you can’t sell it. 

Peter distracts me up until lunch. I join the rest of the family in the kitchen. Anna has made homemade soup and baked fresh bread. My stomach rumbles as soon as I enter the house. 

“Hi boys, how are you both doing today?” Anna sets the food down in front of Peter and I. Anna’s hair is pulled up into a messy bun. Hair is falling down into her face and there’s yeast all over her shirt. 

“Good. Cows are doing well Ma.” Peter dips his bread into the vegetable soup.

“That’s good to hear.” She turns back and prepares the other dishes for the other children. James, Sophia, and Olivia enter the house. They’re full of feathers. 

Chickens.

The other little ones can be heard playing around in a different room. They must have already eaten. 

And there’s no sign of Rachel.

“Oh my, it’s so quiet without Mary around.” Anna comments. I never knew someone was capable of putting up a house so quickly. It took less than two weeks to construct Mary’s home. A lot of interior decorating and touch ups needed to be done, but apparently Mary is capable of completing those tasks. 

“She’s next door though.” James slurps, “We can go over anytime!”

“Now, now. Nathaniel and Mary need to have alone time for a little bit.” Mary shakes her finger, “They’ve only just married.”

Only just married, need alone time? Yeah, I know what that means. Mary has been wanting to get married for a long time now, it only makes sense. I mean, most people around here seem to get married as young as possible, but that’s not my place to judge. It won’t be surprising if Mary is announcing a child within the next few months.

“I guess.” James says finishing his meal. Anna starts a new batch of bread while we finish our meals. 

“Peter. Josh.” Anna says suddenly, “Can you take measurements for the new house tomorrow morning? Your father wants to start on it this weekend.”

I can’t help but cringe when I hear her say ‘your father’. 

“In the same spot, he pointed out?” Peter tilts his head.

“Yes, the Hunters would like to move in before the winter.” With that, my spirit rises. My thoughts about Rachel disappear and I start fantasising about what it’ll be like to have Oliver as a close neighbour. Speaking of which, I haven’t seen him around for a while. 

“Just Mr. and Mrs. Hunter and Oliver?” James asks. He looks confused for some reason.

“Oh, Vince and Henry will be moving in next spring.” Anna puts a finger to her lip, “Maybe this fall if we can get enough help.”

“Why are so many people moving here?” I blurt out. James, Peter, Sophia, and Olivia stop what they’re doing and look at me with a hint of…. disgust? “I-I mean, I’d love for Oliver to be our neighbour, I’m just curious.”

Anna’s face softens, “Wouldn’t you like more friends to play with? We’re awfully far away from even our closest neighbours.”

“I would, I just don’t understand-”

“Sometimes you just have to accept things as they are.” Anna says, wiping her hands on her floral apron, “Now, time for school.”

Anna leaves us in the living room alone with our notebooks. She’s already instructed us to complete our exercises and has returned to the kitchen. Sherry arrived late to lunch and she has to warm up the soup for her. 

From my position, I can see through the doorway and out to the stairs. Sherry and Anna are talking but I can’t really hear them from here. I gaze down and try to take my mind off of what Anna said. I’m just not used to that kind of talk I suppose. In the orphanage, we could ask questions and most of the time the nuns gave us a fairly appropriate answer. It wasn’t wrong to ask why, although we weren’t supposed to complain about why something was the way it is. 

I can understand why Mary and Nathaniel would live close to either John or Nathaniel’s family. That’s just what people do around here. But the Hunters? Which family is next? Why does John want everyone to move onto his land? Rachel did say that John wanted to create some kind of community…

I never thought of John being much of a people person, then again, I’m not around John enough to see how he interacts with them. I then remember the conversation he had about me in the library, the other men seemed to hang off his every word, but that could have been one time, right?

Next time I go to church I’ll listen and watch a little more closely. 

I finish my school work and Anna comes in to check it. She nods a few times and assigns something new. 

Rachel catches my eye when she quietly steps up the stairs. Her head is hanging low and her shoulders are slumped. As she passes the basement door, my eyes lock onto its polished exterior. Shadows cast down on the almost hidden door. It looks sinister. 

What exactly goes on down there? After Peter and Rachel were instructed to go down there, they were completely different for a few days. Then, after a day or so, Peter returned to his usual self but Rachel hasn’t quite yet. Although Peter still tries to be careful around John. He listens to his every word and doesn’t hesitate to do anything when instructed. I’ve noticed that Peter is a bit stricter with James too.

“Hey, Peter.” He looks up from his work, “What’s in the basement?”

Peter’s hand clenches around his pencil. He moves his gaze back towards his homework and continues writing as if I hadn’t spoken to him. His eyebrows knit together in concentration. On the other side of Peter, James’ head peaks up in shock, but even he quickly goes back to his work. 

“What happened to Rachel?” I press. Peter’s eyes squeeze shut. There’s beads of sweat forming around his brow. James lowers his head so that he’s hidden behind his brother.

“I c-can’t…” Peter says, his voice coming out small.

“Why?” I ask.

“We can’t tell you!” James blurts out and Peter glares at him. James buries his face into his arms. 

“What the hell is going on?” I lower my voice, whispering. I don’t want Anna to hear us. 

Peter’s face darkens, “If you want to know what’s in the basement, why don’t you go down there yourself?” I shut my mouth and return my pencil to the paper, scribbling absentmindedly. 

We finish our school work and have a bit of free time until supper. I chose to lie down in our shared room until I would be called by Anna. Peter and James took off outside anyway. 

I imagine every possible reason for the basement’s existence but nothing seems awful enough to justify why John’s children look so terrified when they’re instructed to go down there. I wonder if there’s something down there, like an animal or disfigured person, or if everyone who goes down there must pray for eight hours straight. 

What could possibly silence someone so much that they snap into obedience?

Anna calls me to dinner and I can’t help but be silent. Neither Peter or James talk to me. I watch John out of the corner of my eye, analysing his every move and spoken word. He doesn’t say much. He’s clearly tired from work. 

I go to bed early. I know that Peter and James both need space before they choose to talk to me again. I pushed them a bit too far before supper. I contemplate asking Sherry, but I worry that I won’t get any more information from her than I did anyone else. 

I think about getting in so much trouble that I’m sent down to the basement but decide against it. Who knows what might happen? John and Anna may decide to have me leave their home. Although, it might not happen. John seems adamant to keep me. 

-

I’m not sure if I’m sleeping or dreaming, but I feel it. There’s a hand stroking my face. A large hand is cupping the right side of my cheek and caressing my lips. They move down to my chin and along my jaw. The back of the person’s hand moves up and over my cheek bone. 

I feel weak. I can’t seem to snap out of my current state. My eyes won’t open.

The hand moves into my hair and caresses the strands. I manage to turn my head slightly but the hand does not move away. The fingers move in between my hair and suddenly makes its way down my face and neck. Then the touch disappears briefly before a second hand goes back to my hair and the other strokes my arm. 

I relax slightly, realising that this touch is meant to be comforting not malevolent. The person’s warmth radiates through their fingers and onto my scalp. The caresses feel so lovely that I nearly fall back asleep.

Until the other hand moves lower. 

First it reaches the end of my elbow and quickly switches to my stomach. Even though I’m asleep, I feel acutely aware of everything. The fingers on my shirt feel as though they’re burning. My stomach is tight and queasy. I hope that I’m not about to dream about something horrible. 

The hand stops momentarily, probably because I can feel my own chest heaving from fear. Perhaps the other person realises that I’m afraid. I don’t know their intentions and I can’t move my body; maybe they’ve noticed this as well.

My breath hitches when the person’s hand strokes my stomach as if I am sick. My whole body is pulsing. There’s blood rushing in and out of my ears. My own fingers twitch, trying to find their own strength to move.

The other person slowly removes their hand and gently tugs my shirt upwards. A cool rush of air hits my stomach, but the warmth from the person’s skin returns. The hand moves painfully and slowly downwards. 

I must be dreaming, no one else in this house would dare come into the boy’s room and do this. If they were caught, they’d surely be sent to the basement. No one would risk John’s rage. 

The hand stops at my waist. This is the realest dream I’ve ever had if it is one. I shakily take a deep breath in and let it rush out. The fingers pry under my boxers and slink slowly into my pants. I tense up again. I’m not used to the touch.

“Shh.” Someone coos. I can’t tell who makes the noise. The person’s sex is indecipherable.

My toes curl tight as the person strokes my navel. I’m feeling less fearful and much needier. I feel hot and embarrassed. I’m getting hard and I have no idea who is about to touch me. 

The hand on my face strokes my cheek again before the person finally touches my dick. I let out an audible gasp. My back curls up and away from the bed and my head falls to the left. The hand moves up and down slowly. A deep throbbing rushes through the lower half of my body. 

“Ah.” I can’t help but moan. No one has touched me before except myself and even then, I haven’t been able to get much privacy to do it. 

“Shh.” The person coos again. They slowly quicken their pace and my head begins spinning. My legs thrash slowly without my command. I want the person to touch me more and move faster. Something quickly builds in the bit of my abdomen. 

Then the other person kisses me as I cum to stifle my moans. My back arches against his chest and my feet dig into the mattress. My dick pulses and it feels overwhelming until I’ve finally ride out my orgasm in his hands. 

His.

HIS.

– 

I awake in the morning and something isn’t right. My head hurts so badly and I’m terribly cold. There’s a cold cloth on my forehead and the blankets are soaked in sweat. I am barely able to open my eyes but when I do the sunlight burns. 

It’s hard to raise my arms but I do. I pull the band of my underwear away from my skin and I see that I’m clean. It was all a dream.

I sigh out a huge relief but that doesn’t last long. 

It hits me. 

I dreamt about a man touching me. I liked it. 

I’m overcome with nausea and turn over the bed to vomit. There’s a bucket to catch what little I have from last night’s dinner. 

“Oh dear.” I hear Anna’s footsteps dashing up the stairs. I keep heaving until there’s nothing left. I’m not sure if I’m sick or if the thought of liking another man touching me disgusts me that much. Or does it? I’m the one who dreamt about it. 

“You’re going to be okay.” Anna picks up the wet cloth that fell from my head and onto the floor. She pushes me back onto the bed and applies a new rag. I don’t bother explaining anything. If she or John knew, I’d be dead, “You need to rest.”

She gives me her sweetest motherly smile before stroking my face gently. She tells me to ring the bell beside my bed if I need anything, closes the curtains, and leaves the room. 

Her sincerest intentions don’t comfort me.  

Chapter Text

I’m sick for a few more days before I can finally help on the farm again. Peter and James have taken the new house’s measurements and started to dig out the basement with Oliver and his brothers. 

I can’t stop thinking about the dream. I’m embarrassed that I’ve even had the thought deep in my subconscious. I’ve always thought girls were pretty. I don’t think I’ve felt that way around boys…

I look up at Oliver. He’s hammering some boards besides me in silence. I told him that I’m still recovering from being sick and I think he’s politely trying to give me space. Could I be attracted to men or was that just a fluke dream? Oliver doesn’t notice me staring. He takes off his shirt; the summer air warms as the day is getting closer to noon. His shoulders are well defined and his abs firm and -

Oh god. 

I turn my attention back to the work ahead of me. It doesn’t last long. My thoughts are drifting again to the boy beside me. I’ve never thought that way about Oliver before. I must be overreacting from the dream. Maybe I dreamt about another man because John made such a big deal about Rachel and I. Or maybe I dreamt about it because John is still determining which man will marry Rachel and I’m wondering if I’ll ever marry.

I sneak a glance at him a second time and watch him stop and take a drink. He wipes a strand of golden hair from his brow and fixes it into its proper place. He catches my gaze and smiles brightly. I immediately look away and feel the heat on my face. I really hope he doesn’t notice that. 

The hours creep by slowly as I try not to look at Oliver. The more I think about it, the more I want to do it. I glance over to him again. His shirt is tied around his waist and the undershirt is completely soaked from the heat. His dark blond hair has flopped down into his eyes. 

Those green eyes glance over to me and I watch him bite his bottom lip. 

“Lunch time!” Anna calls from the porch, I almost don’t hear her. 

“Is it that time already?” Oliver tosses his shovel aside and follows his brothers to the house. He takes one look over his shoulder and smiles at me, “Coming?”

“Y-yeah.” I say, gently putting my shovel down and wiping the sweat from my brow. As I pass by John, he sends me an all-too-intentional glare. I stop in my tracks, “Is there something wrong sir?”

His gaze softened, “No, go on in.” 

I feel his eyes on me as I head in, but he doesn’t follow. 

Anna serves us a bowl of creamy leek soup with a biscuit. I try to eat but my appetite isn’t there. John joins us halfway through the meal. 

“Henry, after we’re finished for the day, I need you to tell your father that I’ve decided to start on the main building before winter. Tell him that we’re planning on buildin’ by the water wheel.” John doesn’t look up and takes a few mouthfuls of soup. Henry looks a bit surprised, but a grin returns to his face.

“Certainly.” The kitchen goes quiet. Only men slurping soup and spoon hitting porcelain bowls can be heard. I’m more confused than ever. First, we are making a home for Oliver and his family, and now we are building something else?

I suddenly recall the conversation in the main building between Oliver’s father, Nathaniel’s father, and John. I remember John mentioning building something big, but he didn’t say where or what it exactly was.

We continued putting up the frame of the house until late in the afternoon. Once we finish, John dismisses Peter, James, Oliver, and I. Oliver’s brothers need to help with the electric and we’d just get in the way. That’s what John says anyways.

Peter and James take off, they’re still sore about my question, so Oliver and I go to the barn. I grab a few empty buckets.

“In a few days I’ll be living here.” Oliver says suddenly. I scoop up grain and pour the seeds into the empty container. The distraction of John’s construction plans wears off. Oliver sits there on the hay bail, watching me work. 

“Yeah.” I check the volume of grain and put aside the bucket. 

“I’ll be able to teach you more about riding.”  From the corner of my eye, I see Oliver laying on the hay, head cradled in the palm of his hand. His plaid shirt is unbuttoned, open wide enough for me to see the discoloured, white tank beneath it. 

I swallow.

“Yeah.” I carry the two full buckets towards the barn doors. I need to get this out of my head. 

This isn’t normal. This isn’t right. This isn’t ok-

Oliver gracefully jumps to his feet and cuts me off. He slowly slides the door shut.

“Oliver?” my heart is pounding in my chest. His emerald eyes glow in the dark as he’s eying me down promiscuously. He takes a step forward and I drop the buckets.

“I know that you know.” My mind starts racing. He knows? How does he know? When did he find out? I didn’t even know until earlier. 

“K-know what?” I take a step back. He stops dangerously close to me. I feel my heart pounding so hard that it aches. I smell Oliver’s sweet cologne and if I didn’t think that I was about to be destroyed, I would probably give into the temptation.

“Don’t play dumb.” Oliver’s eyes narrow, his hand slowly crawling up my chest and to my cheek. Sparks of electricity dance around his fingertip and shoot directly down my body. I think I’m saying something, but it must be pouring out in the form of pure nonsense. 

“What is John planning?” His hand wraps around my collar. 

In that very second, my sanity comes back. I snap out of my lustful daze and feel genuinely confused, “What?”

“What is he planning on doing? My parents won’t even tell me what’s going on.” Oliver slowly releases his hold on me, “Both of my brothers know but I don’t. I have no idea why we’re moving here.”

“I thought that you all knew.” I say, calming my breath, “I honestly am as much in the dark as you are, probably even more so.”

“You don’t know about…” He stares at me with those dark green eyes, “Shit.”

“I said I’m in the dark, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” My eyebrow furrow, “I don’t even know about the basement!”

“Basement?” he cocks his head. The seriousness in his face dissipates. He suddenly realises how close he is to me and backs up a step, “Sorry, I thought you knew something cuz’ you actually live here.”

“I’m an outsider to the Millers – just another worker.” I pick up the grain buckets and place them by the door. I open the barn door slightly and look through the crack. John and Oliver’s brothers are still working on the site. I close the door again, “Why are you asking me about all of this?”

Oliver motions for me to sit down. I apprehensively do, keeping my distance, “One night during the night, about a year ago, my folks had your fath…. sorry, Mr. Miller and Mr. Becker over for dinner. They stayed over until early in the morning talking. I had woken in the middle of the night and heard them talking from upstairs. I remember standing at the top of the stairs, listening to Mr. Miller.”

“He kept whispering and all I could make out was that he said that he had some books and he wanted my family to move onto his land. I think somehow he convinced my Pa. I don’t know how, but he did. He seems to be able to do that quite well.” 

I stare at Oliver and immediately he picks up that I’m in disbelief, “I know, it sounds…unbelievable but I actually found the books a few months ago. I wasn’t able to read them though, I was almost caught going through my Pa’s room.”

“So, what did the books say?”

“That’s the thing…. I wasn’t able to even look at the book. I haven’t heard anything since, but I think my brothers have. They seem so excited to come live here with their family. There’s a lot planned for this land.” Oliver says with an unknown emotion in his eye. For some reason I feel uneasy about this sudden congregation of people. 

“So, what’s this basement about?” Oliver pokes me in the side. I would have playfully prodded him back if it weren’t for the eerie feeling I have from Oliver’s story.

I clear my throat, “I first heard about it a few weeks after I came here. One of the boys, James, had broken the barn door by mistake. He was absolutely terrified about what John would think. I mean, I’d expect that John would be furious, but James acted like his life would end. John was furious too, but Peter took the blame for breaking the door. John was angry for about a moment, but he didn’t lash out or yell much. He just told Peter to meet him at the basement door after dinner. 

“Peter and John were finished in the basement…whatever they were doing… early in the morning. John told Peter that he wasn’t to tell anyone about what happened in the basement – especially me. It took Peter a few days to start talking again. I never heard any sounds coming from the basement that night and I didn’t see anything wrong with Peter.”

Oliver is watching intently now, this all seems new to him, “Then it happened again after Mary’s wedding. I was dancing with Rachel, you know, for fun, and John interrupted us in the middle of the dance. He didn’t seem too angry at the time, but after we returned home I could tell he was furious. He told me to stay away from his girls, but I had no intention of doing anything with them.”

“You’re not interested?” Oliver asks, his neck craned.

“Uh…” I blush, looking at Oliver’s curious eyes, “They’re like siblings to me now.”

“Oh.” Oliver says, “Sorry, continue.”

“John wasn’t happy with Rachel. He thinks she started the whole thing. He took her down to the basement. The next day she didn’t want to talk to me and her hair was cut short. She was like a completely different person and still hasn’t spoken a word to me.”

“Maybe he’s just good at disciplining his kids?” Oliver offers, and I shake my head. I can’t believe that. I’ve never seen anyone look so traumatised after a punishment – and I’ve seen a lot at the orphanage.

He smiles devilishly. Those bright green eyes lighting up in the dark, “What if we snuck in?”

Chapter Text

A week or so goes by until finally we find out there’s a chance to go into the basement. In that time, we finished building Oliver’s new home. It’s not as large as John’s or Rachel’s home, but certainly larger than what a family of three needs. It’s a two-story house with four bedrooms and two bathrooms. The interior isn’t painted or decorated yet but I’m sure Oliver’s mother will take care of it.

John takes a few days off from his City job to help move Oliver’s parents to their new place. John was pleasantly surprised to see that the Hunters had already packed their belongings. Oliver helps enthusiastically, but after his story, I pick up that he isn’t as excited as he makes out to be. It takes about two days until we’ve fully moved all of their belongings to their new home. The middle child, Vince, will take care of his parents’ home until his own home is built.
However, the next building on the list is a much larger building and John seems to be highly motivated to complete it before the winter arrives.

“I’ll be leaving on a short trip to the city to gather some special building materials tomorrow.” John announces. He already decided that Peter and James would go with him along with Nathaniel and Oliver’s two brothers. He wants me to help tend to the farm and he doesn’t need me tagging along if I was still sick. I’m far from being anywhere near sick.

“Oh Dear, I don’t think Josh can handle all that work on his own.” Anna serves a portion of her chilli to her husband, “But I’m sure Oliver can help.”

John ponders this for a moment and for some reason I’m nervous that he’ll say no. He’s next door so I’m not sure why I even have this worry. Those hard eyes suddenly look up at me and then back towards Anna, “That’s a fine idea Anna. Since I’m takin’ two of the boys, Oliver can stay up on the third floor. I’ll make sure to ask Samuel in the morning if he can bring his boy over.”

This window of opportunity happens so quickly that I must conjure up a plan of action. John is leaving tomorrow by ten. I consider going into the basement during the day, but it isn’t practical. There are too many little ones running around and Anna, or worse, Sherry, might see us fiddling with the door. We’ll have to break in during the night.

I also consider that John most likely will bring the basement keys with him. He doesn’t usually let them out of his sight. I can pick a lock, but not very well. To boot, there’s three locks in total. Two padlocks and one door lock. If we can get through the first two, then there’s only the door lock to worry about.

Unless…

From the corner of my eye I look at John. He’s drinking beer tonight. Usually on a Friday he’ll have one more and then he’ll go to bed around ten. He’ll sleep deeply tonight, especially since he had been working all day outside. It’s risky but it would be the only way to ensure that Oliver and I can get in.

After I help clean up after dinner, John asks to speak with me outside. At first, I think that he’d overheard Oliver and I speaking about breaking into the basement, but I tell myself that it’s impossible. He wasn’t anywhere near us during that conversation.

“I want you to listen closely.” He stands towering over me, “I don’t want you touching any of my girls while I’m away.”

I almost laugh in his face. If only he had the faintest idea about the inner turmoil I’ve been going through for the last few weeks. I’m glad he doesn’t know though, because if he did, he most certainly would kill me.

“Yes sir.” I nod. He takes a sip of his beer, studying me over.

“If I hear anything from Anna, you’ll be goin’ down to the basement.” John cups a hand on my shoulder, leaning in a little too close, “And it ain’t going to be just for a few hours.”

I swallow, the alcohol on his breath pungent, “Y-yes sir.”

“Good. Now off to bed with ya.” He pats my back on the way out. He takes up the stairs first, probably to join Anna, while I stay on the first floor, eyeing the time. I’ll give John a half of an hour before checking on him.

I join the other boys in the room. Unsurprisingly they’re asleep. Physical work did that to you. I feel tired as well, but I don’t want to miss my only chance to unlock the basement, or at least partially. At exactly eleven, I sneak out of bed and peak my head out of our room. The house seems clear. I move towards the staircase and stay on alert. I can hear Sherry’s obnoxious snoring – the one problem that apparently she doesn’t have – and sneak down the stairs one by one.

On John and Anna’s floor my heart begins to pound. Their door is slightly ajar and I worry either of them are awake. I hold my position at the bottom of the stairs for a few minutes until I hear John’s snoring begin. I strain my ears for any other sounds but there’s nothing. I slide my feet across the wood floor, pausing on every board that creeks, until I’m at the door.

I slowly peek my head inside and see Anna’s sleeping face. If anyone is to wake, it would be her. She rolls over and snuggles into the blankets. I step forward and quickly scan the room. The keys to the basement are laying on the nightstand beside John, however, I know if I take those, he’ll know right away. There has to be a second set somewhere else.

To the left, there’s a large wardrobe, most likely filled with clothing. On the right side of that, there’s a vanity with a mirror for Anna to use in the morning. On the left side there’s a trunk with a piece of clothing sticking out. I use the moonlight shining in from the room to identify two other rooms on the right hand side of the room. I know one is a bathroom, but I’m not sure what the other one is for. I slowly step forward, taking my steps even more cautiously now.

Halfway into the room I can tell that the first door does leads into the master bathroom. I place my hand on the second door’s knob and slowly turn it. I step in and quietly close the door. I sit in the dark for a few moments waiting for my eyes to adjust. There’s a towel on the floor that I stuff under the door. I turn on the light.

There is a cabinet full of hunting guns on one wall, along with a few traps and tools. On the other, there’s an old mailroom cabinet. The doors are made of glass and I can see miscellaneous items: bullets, tobacco, old whiskey, and keys. They’re all labelled: gun, alcohol, shed, truck…there’s no rhyme or reason to how these keys are organised. I just about give up when I see a small tag at the back of the last set of boxes.

Spare Basement Keys

I don’t hesitate to take them. I turn the light off and pull the towel away from the door. I take a few deep breaths before opening the door. The snoring is louder than ever and this time I’ve never been happier to be in a family that inherited such a noisy bodily function. I creep past John and Anna, my heart dancing from nervousness, but more importantly, victory.

I’m still so high from my successful infiltration by the time morning comes that I’m not even tired. I join the family downstairs for breakfast as usual and try to act as ‘normal’ as possible. I barely care that Sherry points out how crazy my hair looks today or the fact that little Conner almost hits me in the face with his porridge. Throughout breakfast, I do expect John to say something to me or order me down to the basement. I’m acutely aware that he is casting looks my way. It’s either that he knows what I did, or he is trying to drive the point of staying away from his daughters.

John kisses Anna goodbye and meets his self assembled crew outside. The rest of us wave him goodbye before he drives down the road with a trail of dust kicking up from behind his tires. From there, each member of the family takes to their daily chores. James and Peter go to check on the cows; Sherry, Sophia, and Oliva go feed the chickens; and I meet Oliver at his new house.

“It’s so strange to be sleepin’ in a different place, you know?” He looks well rested, but clearly there’s something uneasy in his eyes.

“I know how you feel.” I muse, “Coming here for the first time was strange, but I guess the number of kids to square feet is the same.”

Oliver laughs, he punches me lightly in the arm. I feel awestruck seeing that bright smile, “You’re funny man.”

We feed the horses and check the parameter of the fence. Oliver convinces me to take Molly out and we ride our horses up to the watermill to irrigate the crops. Oliver ties Molly and Quinn to a post and follows me in.

“Never been inside before.” He comments. Although the space is large and it’s dark, my brewing feelings about Oliver grow. I urge myself to think about anything else, but it’s difficult to do when someone as handsome as Oliver is standing a mere few feet away from me.

“O-oh I see.” I gulp. I’ve been thinking about Oliver more since he moved here. At least when he lived at his old place I could forget my horrible feelings and prepare myself for his next visit, then everything would seem normal and I could only allow my feelings to seep out of the cracks a little. Now I see Oliver everyday, regardless if he’s helping us on the farm or not. Even if I see him playing his guitar on his front porch, I know I’m staring too long.

The worst part is I’m scared that John might start noticing. He yells at me when he sees that I’m distracted, and he seems to notice this more when I’m looking at Oliver.

“So,” Oliver jumps in front of me, gripping me on the shoulders, “Did you get the keys?”
His emerald eyes are shining so brightly I feel like I’m being blinded in this dark space. His palms on my shoulders feel like burning coals, slowly warming my entire being. I bite my lip and look away, “Y-yeah, it was pretty scary breaking into John’s room, but I did it.”

“Great.” He lets my shoulders go and I almost grab his hand, he climbs the ladder and points at the lever, “This is the one that releases the water?”

I give him a thumbs up and he laughs. I need to stop thinking that his voice is music to my ears. He pulls the level and the room fills with the sound of water rushing out into the fields. I slowly climb the ladder after him, although I feel that we’re both safer if I’m a few stories away.

Oliver opens the shutters and points, “Looks like we can see when the water has reached the end.”

“We usually don’t. Sometimes it looks like it’s done, but it hasn’t.” Oliver pouts, clearly not in the mood to ride back, “But I suppose since John’s away it’s fine today.”

That warm smile returns, and he points to the middle of the floor where a few of the kittens I brought were snuggling. After seeing the rats the first few times, I decided this was a better place for them to be. Oliver picks one up and cuddles it closely, “Cats are my second favourite animal. They’re just too cute.”

I grab the second kitten that was left without his partner and sit next to Oliver. There isn’t much room on this floor, so I can feel his hip brushing against mine. I lean up against the wall, looking out the window for a second, checking where the water has reached and return my attention to the small black cat in my arms.

“So what’s the plan?” Oliver cocks his head, kitten snuggled underneath his chin. The kitten kneads its tiny claws into my thigh and I quickly calm myself down.

“I was thinking tonight.” I say, refusing to look at him, “Friday night Anna has wine with Mary. She’ll be out a bit late, but at least she will be too tired to wake up to any sounds. Oh, and Anna suggested that we stay up in the attic.”

“Really? That’s perfect. We can stay up without rousing any suspicion.” Oliver strokes the little grey tabby’s head.

“That’s what I thought too.” My cat jumps down from my lap and joins its sibling on Oliver’s, “And whatever we find down in the basement might take a day or two to digest. I’m scared if we wait till Saturday that we will act a bit suspiciously in front of John. He picks up anything.”

“That’s if there’s anything down there.” Oliver says, “You might just find an old-fashioned paddle.”

I shake my head, “I really think there’s more down there than just some simple discipline. Rachel is still acting strange and it’s been two weeks. Peter has well moved on, but Rachel is almost like a totally different person.”

I turn my gaze and notice we’ve almost overwatered the crops. I reach over Oliver to pull the lever back up.

“Do you fancy her?” Oliver asks. There’s something in his voice that almost tells me that he’s bothered by the mention of her.

“No.” I pull the level up, “I told you before, she’s family and John would kill me even if I did. Why, do you like her?”

There’s a knot in my throat when I see him stare at me blankly and then turn away abruptly. His ears are red and he stutters, “No, no of course not, I don’t like her.”

“If you do I’m not going to get in your way, I can assure you that.” That’s the truth, “But like I said, unless John approves it, you’re not getting anywhere near-”

“I don’t like Rachel.” Oliver mumbles abruptly, his eyebrows are furrowed together in frustration. The two kittens jump off his lap and chase each other down the ladder, “She’s not the one I like.”

“Sorry.” I probably shouldn’t push him by asking. He has two other brothers to live up to. It’s probably hard knowing that he will have to marry in a few years. Most parents decide who their children will marry well in advance of their eighteenth birthday. I’m sure Oliver’s parents are no exception, “Do your parents decide who you will marry?”

“Yeah.” His mood seems to sour, “They pick the best suitor for both the man and the woman. I get no say, and even if I did, I’d never be allowed to be with the person I like. Never in a million years.”

Oliver stands up and makes his way down the ladder. I shut the window and rush after him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” I say, climbing down after him.

“It’s okay. It is what it is.” He sighs, dragging his hand through his golden blond hair. The sun temporarily blinds me when the grain elevator’s door opens and by the time my vision returns, Oliver already has the horses untied. He offers a half-forced smile, “Shall we?”

-

Later that night, Anna gives us two cots to bring up to the attic. They’re surprisingly large and comfortable. Unfortunately for me, there isn’t much room in the attic and we have to push our beds flush against each other. I mean because that lingering feeling stayed the entire day, even after our depressing conversation of arranged marriages. It doesn’t help that Oliver and I peeled down to our underwear in the same room to change into our pyjamas.

“Gotta fit the look am I right?” Oliver laughs, pulling on his shirt.

“What?” I’m genuinely confused.

“Make it look like we’re going to bed.” Oliver flops down onto the mattress, his hair spraying across the pillows. I pull myself underneath Anna’s handmade blanket and cover my torso appropriately. Nothing would be more embarrassing for Oliver to see me in a…certain situation.

“W-what should we do to pass the time?” As soon as those words escaped my mouth, images filled my head. I don’t even know how two guys should make love but-
I have to stop, this is wrong, everything about this is wrong. My heart is beating, but for all of the wrong reasons. I grab my thigh and pinch as hard as I can. Oliver doesn’t seem to notice.

“I brought cards.” He reaches underneath his bed and pulls his bag onto his lap. The blond pulls out a deck of cards from a small wooden box.

“That sounds great.” He teaches me a few games, some overly complicated. We play until eleven. Anna always arrives back at the house at exactly eleven. We decide to wait at least thirty minutes until switching on the lights and preparing ourselves. The time ticks slowly away and we make sure to ask each other every couple of minutes whether or not we are awake. We can’t miss this opportunity.

Oliver and I each take a flashlight. I’m more skimming the pages than actually deciphering the content. I constantly ask myself what is wrong with me until Oliver finally taps me on the shoulder.

“It’s time.”

We don’t bother changing into our normal clothes. That would be too risky. If anyone happened to wake up, they would know something is up. Why would two boys be fully dressed and sneaking around the house? Makes more sense for two boys in pyjamas to be returning to their beds after a drink of water or a midnight snack.

I wrap the spare basement keys in a cloth so that they don’t make any sound and stuff them in my pockets. Oliver helps me open the attic door to the floor as quietly and as slowly as possible. We sneak down the stairs. If anyone awoke, it would be detrimental to our plan if they saw that we left.

The house is filled with the usual snores. I’m not too worried when we pass by the boy’s room or the girl’s room for that matter. I’m mostly concerned about Anna. I want to make sure, one hundred percent, that she is asleep. I motion Oliver to stay close to the stairs. Copying my footsteps from the night before, I slowly inch up to Anna’s bedroom and listen for the sound of sleeping. It’s faint, but I can hear Anna’s constant deep breathing.

I signal to Oliver and we creep down the remaining stairs. He follows me to the odd space underneath the staircase. I pull out the keys from my pocket and slowly unravel them from the cloth. I can barely tell which key belongs where, so I slowly inch each key into the first padlock until one clicks open. I hand the first lock to Oliver carefully and work on the next two locks. As I place the final key into the door, the door slowly creeks open. It’s painfully loud and I push it open just wide enough that the two of us can fit inside, closing it behind us.
We pause for a moment and take in the stale scent. My toes curl over the cold cement stairs,

“Let’s find a light switch.”

We pat our hands around the wall until I feel a familiar nob. I flick the switch and the room slowly lights up as if it hasn’t been used in years. It’s like any other basement. The stairs’ wooden frame continues until the actual basement itself. There are plain lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling starting from the top of the stairs to the end. There’s a room on the left side, but the staircase’ frame is shielding our view.

Oliver places the two padlocks at the top of the stairs and we slowly make our way down into the mysterious new portion of the house. When we reach the bottom we can see that the basement is furnished with a handmade leather couch, a carpet, and a desk. There are books lining the walls and papers scattered all over the desk’s mahogany finish.

“These are the books.” Oliver comments. He picks up a book and inspects it. I look at the title and back up at the book on the walls. They’re all the same. John has the same copy of every single book.

Oliver grimaces and begins flipping through the pages. He comes across a page with stars and the moon detailed so graphically, it looks like the real sky. I look over his shoulder and notice that none of the text is in a language that I can read. I don’t even recognize the language itself. “Do you know what language this is?”

“No. I have no idea.” Josh turns the pages one by one.

I take a book down from the shelf. There’s nothing on the cover but a half finished ‘A’ intertwined in a circle. I begin flipping through the book. There are some graphic depictions of violence that I’d never expect to see in this house: children being beaten by adults with a stick, a man with multiple wives - one of which is hanging from a tree branch, a woman who is being drowned with her baby in a bathtub, and a person being stabbed to death by others. There’s something in the crude picture of the stabbing that catches my eye. The garments of the attackers have a symbol on them that seem to match the symbol on the cover of the book.

“What is even this?” I muse. Without a translation, it’s impossible to know the context and importance of these books. I put the book back on the shelf. Why are there so many of them down here?

I glance away and something catches my eye. In the corner of the room there’s a metal door with an emblem of a snake-like creature twisting from the bottom all the way to the top, “Look.”

Oliver spins around and inspects the door. He grabs a hold of the handle and slowly pulls it open, “Oh my God.”

Behind the door is a second staircase carved entirely out of stone. It circles downward beyond where Oliver and I can see. There are small lights positioned at the top of the manmade ceiling that give off an eerie flicker similar to a candle.

I take the lead with Oliver very close behind. The stairs go down at least a hundred feet before we reach another door. This time it’s made of wood and secured together with thick metal. I reach down and find the handle. I feel Oliver clench my shoulder as I open it up. It’s dark inside. I reach around, patting the stone wall for a switch. Instead, my face hits a string.

I blindly grab for the string and pull. The room dimly lights up.

At first I’m not sure what I’m seeing. There are metal shackles laying on the ground, whips secured to the wall, a strange bench with clasps at the legs, large tubs filled with water, syringes, rope…item after item after item.

“What the fuck is this?” Oliver’s voice cracks. I don’t have words for what I’m seeing. This room isn’t small, there’s enough room to imprison eight people at one time. This is a place to torture people. How did Rachel and Peter come out of here without any marks on their bodies?

“Oliver, we should leave.” I say but my eyes are locked on the endless torture devices.

“Y-Yeah.” He says wide eyed. My eyes flicker to the table where I saw the syringes. There’s jars and jars of drugs on the shelves above. There’s numbing agents, aphrodisiacs, pain killers, depressives, hallucinogens, and sedatives. There’s oils and lubricants in bottles. There’s rubber phalluses lined up on towels. There’s rope rolled up onto rollers on either side of the table.

I grab Oliver by the hand and pull him away from the sight. We run up the stairs and shut the steel door behind us. Oliver runs his hand through his hair, trying to control his breath. I shake my head and pull him to the stairs, urging him that we can’t wait. This is more than I can handle and I’m scared that if we stay here any longer that something is going to happen to us. Even if John isn’t here, I’m not willing to wait around a second longer.

We turn off the light to the basement as soon as we reach the top and gather the locks. I wait a second with my ear to the door and then quickly yank the door open enough for us to fit through. I secure the door lock with one of the keys while Oliver fastens the padlocks. I wrap the keys with the cloth one last time and we sneak up the stairs.

I can still hear Anna’s soft snoring when we arrive on the second floor. I signal Oliver to wait as I return the keys. I don’t think I’ll be needing them again anytime soon. It is so early in the morning that it doesn’t matter that the floor creaks as I travel back and forth through Anna’s room, she’s sleeping deeply. Oliver is itching to return to the attic when I return and we nearly run up both flights of stairs. We’re a lot less sneaky and a lot more desperate when we open the door to the attic.

As soon as we lift the ladder and close the hatch, we both let out a sigh of relief.

“That was the scariest shit I’ve ever done.” I admit. We’re sitting side by side, both visibly shaking.

“Let’s never go down there again.” Oliver laughs nervously.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” I crawl over to my bed and scramble under the covers. He does the same but inches closer to my side.

I lean up to turn off the light when he says, “You don’t think John will ever bring me down there?”

“No, not you. You’re not a part of the family.” I assure him. Oliver hums and we both agree that we need sleep. Of course, I can’t sleep.

Not after what I saw.

Chapter Text

John arrived home early. Instead of making two stops, he was able to convince the shop owner to bundle all his supplies together for a fairly reasonable price. We would have unloaded the truck and trailer and organised all of the supplies if it wasn’t Sunday. Instead Oliver and I unhitched the trailer, took out all of the supplies from the back of the truck, and placed them in the barn. Then we took our time getting dressed in our suites and helping my family gather all the younger children together. 

Anna told John how good his children were all weekend long without him. He seemed pleased. We gathered in the back of the truck as usual and took off towards church. 

Oliver and I haven’t talked much since that night. We have been performing our chores as usual but amidst an uncomfortable silence. I wish I could remove what we saw that night but only time will blur our memories. Even now his usual bubbly demeanour has changed slightly. He forces to keep up the act in order to keep the suspicion down around the others. 

Sherry has kitchen duty after mass, so that means Anna will be looking after the kids. Oliver decides that he would like to spend some time with his family. I understand, they’ll remind him of normalcy. As usual, I decide to take myself to the library. I have a couple of hours so I choose a light-hearted, choose your own adventure book and make my way up to the third floor. Since the hide and go seek fiasco, I’ve taken a liking to the small closet. No one bothers me there and I’m actually alone. 

However, as soon as I begin reading the start to the pirate adventure, my mind begins to wander. How indeed did Rachel and Peter come out of that room unscathed? Rachel’s hair was cut but other than that she looked completely normal. Peter as well. Unless they were hiding something underneath their clothes, you could not visibly see that either of them was injured. 

I close the book and place it off to the side. John certainly would have restrictions if he takes his children to a public space like this church. It isn’t well looked upon if a parent beats their child. Therefore John has restrictions, but only right now. It’s quite obvious that he doesn’t really care what the outside world thinks about him. He’s taken two of his children down there, possibly more before I arrived. 

I almost want to go back down and take one of those books from the basement, but I know even if one book is missing, John will know. He will scour the house to find it. Even Oliver’s father would most likely be possessive of his one and only book. 

“Thank you for meeting with me.” I perk up at the sound of John’s voice, “I had to delay construction on your property Charles.”

Nathaniel’s father shrugs, “What can you do? I assume this is directly related to the main building?” I wonder if it’s a community hall or something? 

“Correct.” John leans against the closet door, “I will begin construction next week. I have hired a few extra labourers to assist in the meantime.”

“You can count on Nathaniel and I to provide you with anything you require.” Nathaniel’s father ensures. 

“As for my boys and I.” Mr. Hunter adjusts his glasses.

“I can also provide you with assistance. My bothers and I are excellent carpenters. We also have quite a few cousins that would be willing to help.” The man with the scar running down his cheek offers, “but that’s not why we’re here, is it?”

I hear John chuckle and I slowly back away from the door, “No, not it’s not. Yes, I wanted to update you on our progress…” John pushes himself off of the door and it rattles slightly, “but I’m afraid we’ve had a breach.”

The blood in my veins runs cold.

“I noticed it yesterday evening.” John says, “The light to the sub basement was on. I was concerned that one of the books went missing at first, but nothing seems to be out of place. I’m not sure how but someone was able to open up the locks while I was away.” 

“Do you have any idea who it could be?” the man with the scar inquires.

“I had a few suspicions, but the people I had in mind couldn’t have possibly done it. They were out of town.” John taps his foot.

“What about the children?” Oliver’s own Father suggests, “Is it possible they snuck down there?”

John stops tapping his foot, “I don’t think they could have, unless they’ve become professional lock pickers. The extra set of keys was exactly where I put them.” 

“Exactly?” the man with the scar presses. 

There’s a short pause before John replies, “I suppose that I can’t recall the exact spot I put them.”

“Perhaps I can assist further?”

“What are you suggesting, Ross?” 

“I’m suggesting that we investigate the entire basement. Perhaps they left something behind? You clean that room fairly well.” The man lifts a hand to his chin, “If we can’t find anything, I would bring the children down to the basement. One at a time you can question them. They hate it down there, I doubt they would find the need to lie.”

John ponders, “I can already rule out a few. The children under ten would never dare cross me. Neither would the twins. Mary and Anna were busy Friday night and were in no condition to do such a thing. That leaves James, Sherry, Peter, Rachel, and Josh. Of course, with your permission Samuel I’ll need to talk to Oliver.”

“Of course.” Oliver’s dad motions, “I would be highly disappointed in my son if he partook in such a horrible deed, but I would welcome punishment.”

“First we will see if our intruder left any clues and then decide our next steps.” The men nod in unison and leave. 

As soon as I hear their footsteps down the metal spiral staircase, I leave my closet and toss the book back on the nearest shelf. I have to tell Oliver. I enter the kitchen hoping to see his blond mop somewhere in the area. I half expect to see him filling his face with crackers and cheese, but he’s nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey Josh!” Sherry beams, “I made a jelly dessert today! It’s going to be amazing!”

“Sherry, that sounds great.” I offer a smile, “Hey, have you seen Oliver?”

“Oliver?” she taps her temple, “Hm, I think I saw him head out to the cathedral.”

Before she can ask any more questions, I leave. The dining hall is beginning to fill up and hopefully he hasn’t returned. It would be impossible to find him. 

There are very few people out in the hall. Most of them are making their way to the dining hall for dinner. I urge myself to slow down. A brisk walk will do nothing but alert someone’s attention. There’s a set of double doors which separates me from the cathedral. I place my hand on the handle when someone firmly grasps my shoulder. Somehow, I know who it is.

“Where are you going?” His voice makes me nauseous. 

“I’m letting Oliver know it's time for dinner.” I lie. 

“Dinner is always at 6.” John states. He and I both know he’s on to me, “I think he can find his way back.”

My mind desperately conjures up something, I need to see Oliver. My eyes dart to the clock, “It’s almost six right now. I thought I’d check up on him.”

John checks his watch and notices that it is indeed five to six. His grip loosens but he does not remove his hand, “Been spending a lot of time with that boy.”

I lower by gaze. It’s too much to meet his stare, “Yeah, he’s been very helpful around the farm and he’s been teaching me a lot.”

He ignores everything I said and hums. He finally lets my shoulder go and signals me off, “Make sure you’re on time for dinner.” 

As I turn to push on the door, I feel something run through my hair gently but when I look over my shoulder, John is already halfway down the hallway. I shake my head and focus on finding Oliver. He isn’t anywhere out in the open, meaning I will have to go to one of the balconies upstairs. This is a spot that usually is taken by the early birds because it has the best view of the sermon. It’s also a good place to be because no one from the main floor can see you.

There’s red curtains surrounding the stacked pews and I have to push them aside to enter. Sure enough, Oliver is sitting in one of the pews praying. I sit beside him, waiting for him to finish. 

He must sense my presence because not too long after I sit, he moves to sit beside me. He looks tired, more tired than this morning. 

“There’s something I have to tell you. I overheard John and his friends having a conversation earlier.” I whisper, taking a few glances around us. I don’t want to take the chance of anyone overhearing our conversation.  

His eyes lock onto me and I take a deep breath, “We left the sub basement lights on.”

“What…” Oliver grips the bench in front of him. 

“They think it’s one of us because there’s no other person they can think of that would’ve been out Friday night.”

“Oh god. What are we going to do?” He shakes. 

“I’m sorry, it’s all my fault.” I bow my head, “I shouldn’t have told you about the basement.”

Oliver erratically shakes his head, “I shouldn’t have given you the idea to sneak into the basement.”

“It’s okay.” I assure him, “I had to know what John was doing to his children down there. I’m sort of relieved that I know. If they find out we broke in, I’ll take the blame.”

Oliver freezes and glances my way, “No, I could never let you do that. I deserve punishment just as much, if not more.”

“Oliver,” I smile weakly, “You don’t deserve any more of it than I do.”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head again. He places his hands in his lap and takes a deep breath. He bites his lip, is about to speak, and takes another breath, “I do.”

For reasons unknown, my heart picks up pace. I’m not sure why, in this place, in this situation, I’m feeling anything. 

“I was praying up here because I’ve been sinning the entire time that I’ve known you.” There are tears forming in his eyes. I place a hand on his shoulder, I don’t want to see him upset. He chokes, “I like you.” 

There’s static in the air and all I can hear are those three words repeating themselves over and over. The pain in my chest turns to a warm, lovely feeling and I can’t help but smile. Momentarily, I forget the real reason why I’m up here. 

“I’m sorry, it’s disgusting but I felt like I needed to confess.” There are tears rolling down his cheeks now and my smile immediately disappears from my face. 

“Oliver.” He glances at me and I wipe the tears from his face, “It’s okay.”

“No, Josh, it isn’t.” he squeezes his eyes shut. I can see his whole body is visibly shaking. 

“Oliver.” I say again, he opens his eyes and I stare at him. My hand reaches slowly for his face. I carefully caress his face and he doesn’t pull away. His bright green eyes are trying to analyse the situation, but I don’t let them. I press my lips against his and pull him closer. His lips are soft and sweet. I run my hands through his short hair and take in his musky scent. He grabs my suit jacket and deepens the kiss. 

This feels like a dream. We’re kissing in the middle of God’s church. Two boys are performing one of the most disapproved actions imaginable in a holy place. One month ago, I would have punched Oliver in the face for confessing and now I’m unbelievably happy he had the courage to tell me. I’ve been debating why I dreamt about another man touching me. Never before would I even consider such a thing, or so I thought. I have been thinking back to every instance I’ve ever met a woman. I’ve never thought much other than I need to settle down one day and have children. I never actually thought which of those girls I met were actually pretty or that I had interest in them. 

None of these girls haunted my mind on a daily basis as much as Oliver does. I want to be around him because he’s fun and helpful, but also because I just want to be around him. I’ve lost myself in him in the past and I’m losing myself right now. I pull away from him, catching my breath, but able to speak just enough to say, “I like you too.”

Then Oliver’s face loses all of his colour. He immediately scrambled back and I’m just about to ask him what’s wrong before I’m lifted up by the back of my collar.

“I thought you were staring at the boy a little too much.” Whatever sexual frustration I had with Oliver is now gone completely. I’m choking and flinging my feet back and forth uselessly, trying to find a place to stand. Oliver looks petrified and should be: John caught us.

“Never thought you were actually a fairy.” He grins, “Heard every little bit of the conversation. I don’t even have to go through all that work to find out who broke into my basement.”

“P-please don’t hurt him.” Oliver tries to plead, but his voice barely comes out.

“It’s a little too late for that.” John drops me to the ground. I smash my head on the wooden seat but immediately scramble backwards. John has a hint of amusement in his voice that I’ve never heard before, “Boy oh boy, your Father is not going to be impressed. That’s ok, he finally will be able to see what type of discipline I give my own children. Even Joshie here gets his first taste.”

“Don’t hurt Oliver. Let me take the punishment.” I know I scolded Oliver about taking all the blame, but I can’t help but think of the basement. There’s so much down there for John to choose from. What is he going to do to us?

“I already have something planned for the both of you, isn’t that right Ross?” I scramble to my feet as the second man emerges from the red curtains. He grabs Oliver from behind and presses a cloth to his face. Oliver immediately passes out.

John doesn’t give me any time to scream before doing the same. I hold my breath and struggle, but it’s futile. I take a breath and Oliver’s sleeping image is the last thing I see before everything goes dark. 

Chapter Text

I feel groggy. My throat itches and my eyes sting. It smells damp. Someone is calling out to me, but I can’t make sense of anything. What happened? I find very little strength in my body to move and I could vomit if I had anything in my stomach. 

“Josh.” I hear my name again. It’s coming from my left. I mumble something incoherent. It feels uncomfortable laying on whatever this is. I try to move my arms, but they’re fastened down. I yank harder this time. It feels like I’m strapped face down onto a table. Both my feet and my arms are stuck to the legs of whatever contraption this is. 

“JOSH.” That voice vibrates through my being and everything flashes back. Oliver’s confession, John drugging us, the basement. I think I know which one of John’s torture devices I’m attached to even though its pitch blank. I struggle against the metal clasps, but I know it’s no use. 

John is an excellent handyman. 

“Oliver.” I rasp, “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah. I’m chained to the wall. I tried reaching you, but it won’t let me go more than a few feet.” He sniffles, “What about you.”

“I’m fine, a little nauseous, but I’ll be ok.” I feel around the leg of the strange contraption, for something I could use to open the lock, “Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” Oliver admits, “I haven’t seen anyone since I woke up.”

We sit in the darkness without speaking for a long period of time. I hear Oliver rattling his chains. Knowing him, he’s trying to figure out if there’s a weak link or a spot in the stone wall he can jimmy the fastener loose. He continues until I assume he’s given up. I’ve given up after I realised that I can’t move my wrists in any direction and even with the smallest movement the clasps seem to tear into my skin. John sure wanted to make sure that I couldn’t move much.

I don’t like being tied to this thing. I feel like a pig strapped to a roasting stick. What is the purpose of this thing? Why would John need to position me bent over on my hands and knees? Is he planning on whipping me? Or is it easier to beat me?

My forehead uncomfortably rests on a piece of soft leather. The blood rushes to my head every few minutes, forcing me to lift it again. Maybe he wants to force me to stay in this uncomfortable position for hours?

“Do you think they’re going to leave us here?” Oliver asks quietly. 

“I don’t think so.” I respond, “John said it himself, he wants to punish us. I don’t think that means letting us rot down here.” 

“What do you think he’s gonna do with us?” I pause. I don’t know, and I don’t want to scare Oliver. I’m sure the both of us have some ideas. 

“I don’t know.” That’s the last thing I say to him before we return to silence again. It’s so dark in here I’m beginning to feel tired. I have no idea what time it is or how long it’s been. I rest my head one last time before closing my eyes to rest. 

It doesn’t last long; the lights suddenly flicker on. It feels bright but Oliver and I both know that they’re very dim. During our short time in the sub basement, our eyes have adjusted. Now it burns. 

I can hear them shuffling through the desk. I know there’s at least two because John and someone else are talking. I’m certain the other person is Ross. My eyes finally adjust to the light and I try to spot the men. I can see Oliver on my left. He’s still wearing his church clothes. There are thick iron clasps around his wrists and ankles. Four loops of chain secure him to the wall, all meeting at a large panel. He isn’t looking at me but paying attention to the voices behind me.

I’m stuck in the middle of the room, tied down to that awful contraption. There’s a square leather pillow, if I should even call it that, only large enough to rest my forehead against. The table I’m laying on is small, just large enough to lay my torso on, and it’s also padded with the same leather as the pillow. The table curves downwards near the edges which allows my arms and legs to drape off either side. Along the bottom of each table leg are those awful clasps. The metal digs into my wrists.

“Please make sure to go easy on my boy.” Oh, Oliver’s father is there too. 

“Pa?” Oliver’s voice comes out frail.

“Don’t worry, I ain’t planning on doing anything to him.” John says. He’s shuffling various items around, opening and closing drawers, placing things on the surface of the working table, “I think the visual will be torture enough.”

“Pa please don’t let him do this!” Oliver pleads.

The men clearly ignore him. Ross hums walking up behind me, he places something on a surface close to my right leg. He pauses, “Samuel, are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

“I don’t think I could enjoy myself.” Mr. Hunter responds. Oliver stands up, watching his father leave the room.

“Pa wait!” he tries to follow after his father until he no longer has any slack. I hear the heavy man’s footsteps ascend the spiral stairs.

“Ross?” John asks, rather, commands. The man with the scar waltzes over to the blond and pushes him roughly to the ground. Oliver lands flat on his back, the air forcefully crushed out of his lungs.

“Leave him alone!” I yell, “You cowards! You know we can’t do anything tied up like this!”

Ross slowly turns around scowling. I prepare myself for whatever beating he should give to me in this vulnerable position but John interrupts, “Leave him. He’ll be all talk until we start. Then he’ll start begging.”

“If you say so.” Ross returns to John’s side and brings whatever John choses to the table behind me. Oliver watches in horror. 

“That should be everything.” John says, his footsteps growing louder until he’s directly behind me, “As discussed, I’ll go first, and you’ll go second. I like to loosen him up first with these so that he doesn’t bleed too badly. I still need him for farm chores.”

I can only guess what they’re planning to do with me, but from the look on Oliver’s face, it isn’t good. There’s tears in his eyes just fighting to fall. He glances at me and mouths an apology. I shake my head, “No, no, it’s not your fault.”

I feel someone’s fingers grab my hair and yank my hair back, their lips close to my ear, “I’m glad Anna convinced me to leave your hair long.”

John releases my head and organises the items behind me. I hear a bottle open. 

“Ok Joshua.” John begins, “I’m sure you and Oliver have done enough snooping to know about the books and this place, but you aren’t going to say anything to anyone. I don’t care that you couldn’t even read ‘em, you’re going to keep your mouth shut.”

“Why? What’s in those books?” I test.

“It’s not the right time for you to know so just do what you’re told. If not, you’ll suffer the consequences similar to what we’re going to do to you today.” John drags his hand along my back until he reaches my face. He squats on the balls of his feet, holding my face and forcing me to look at him, “Unfortunately, we can’t leave marks on the both of you right now, so we’ve come up with a creative punishment. Go ahead Ross.”

My brain doesn’t think but my body responds as soon as it happens. Upon giving the signal, Ross reaches around my waist and unbuttons my pants. As soon as the zipper is opened, he pulls my slacks straight to the ground leaving my body exposed. I’m pulling desperately on the claps, ignoring the stinging sensation. John only looks amused. 

“Now then, I’m sure if a faggot like you doesn’t mind receiving attention from two men.” He stands up and returns behind me. I hear him putting in gloves and for a second, nothing. I can’t think. No, they’re not going to do what I think they’re going to do. They’re not that sick. They can’t do this. I never even had-

Something cold touches my backside and I flinch, “Stop!”

The hand lowers, slightly pressing and massaging a cold gel across my entrance. I know it’s useless, but I jerk back and forth, trying to evade the touch. John pets my hair like I’m a dog, “Shh, that’s a good boy.”

He presses one finger slowly into my body. Although the cool lubricant eases it in, the finger burns as it stretches me open. He flexes his finger a few times before adding a second one. The two fingers slowly separate. I don’t realise I’m biting my lip so hard it’s bleeding.  

“Hand me that please. Put something on it.” John finally pulls his fingers out and I’m left with an uncomfortable feeling. I release the breath I’ve been holding and the blood in my mouth drips onto the floor. 

“Oliver looks like he’s having fun watching.” John snidely remarks. I doubt he’s enjoying himself but I can’t look at Oliver. I’m too embarrassed. This is utterly humiliating.

Something larger and just as cold as the fingers push into my entrance. My breath hitches and the pain surges. I can’t help but pull and thrash against the restraints, “Please, it hurts, stop, stop!”

John chuckles in response, “Perfect.”

He pushes it in faster until finally it’s almost entirely inside me. John steps back into my line of sight. He brushes a few strands away from my face, “Still not crying hm?”

I feel sick. I can’t respond to him. This thing inside my body is sitting there. I want to push it out, but something is preventing me. John’s gaze doesn’t break, “Move it Ross.” 

At first I’m relieved that it's being removed from me, but that relief quickly turns to horror. That thing nearly pulled out of my body when Ross shoves it back in roughly. I screw my eyes shut and a choked cry escapes my lips. This continues slowly, the uncomfortable sensation returning again and again until finally Ross pulls it out completely. 

I vomit. My head is spinning and I wish I could just pass out again. 

“That’s all the preparation he needs.” John rises and moves behind me. I hear him unzipping his pants and I can’t help but sob. My whole body is wracking with tremors. John chuckles, “There we go. It can’t be a punishment if you’re not crying.”

John grabs my ass and I struggle against the restraints uselessly. He taps my hole a few times with his dick and then presses in without pause. Useless words come out of my mouth. Asking for him to stop, telling him that I’m sorry. He only quickens his pace. 

“Oh boy, I couldn’t wait for you to mess up.” John pants, his thrusts deepening. A sick, squelching sound repeats each time our bodies connect. He grabs me by the hair and presses his body against my back. The alcohol on his breath forces me to vomit again. My entire body contracts and stomach acid drips from my mouth. John presses my forehead against the pillow. It’s slick with mucus and spit. 

John suddenly slows, pressing his body slowly against mine, rolling his hips. At first I think he’s close and it’ll be over soon but he doesn’t stop. His breathing is heavy, and his heart is beating erratically. He kisses my neck and peels his body away from mine. The man digs his nails into my hips and thrusts hard and deep over and over again. 

I cry out weakly. My fingernails dig into the table’s wooden post.  

John grunts, leans down against my hair and inhales. On his exhale, he releases an animalistic groan. He thrusts his hips slower now and I realise he’s just came inside me. I cough and sob. John pulls out and sighs, “Shit, that was good. Ross go ahead.”

I break out of my daze, “No. No, please. No more. No, no, no-”

Ross shimmies down his pants and lines his tip up to my unwilling body. I thrash even harder now that I know what this will feel like. I can’t do this again. I can’t. 

“Hope it’s just as good now that he’s broken in.” Ross mutters, ignoring my pleas. He places one hand on my shoulder and pushes relentlessly until he’s fully nested in my rectum. Ross is larger than John. My body is hopelessly trying to accommodate his penis. I let out a scream and Ross slaps me across the back of my head, “Shut up you dumb bitch.”

I begin sobbing again. John walks around the table and kneels down in front of me. He pulls out a rubber band and ties it around my forearm. He touches the inside of my elbow and waits until a vein forms, then he pulls out a small syringe. My eyes widen, “W-what-”

“It’s not gonna kill you boy.” John smirks, those two icy blue eyes glancing up at my expression. Ross becomes unexpectedly rough and at that moment John thrusts in the needle. He slowly injects the syringe’s liquid until about halfway empty and he removes it once again. He covers the small hole with a piece of thick tape and steps back. 

Ross doesn’t stop for a long time. He slows down for a moment but picks his pace up again. I become acutely aware that there’s something dripping down my leg. I come to a sudden realisation that it’s John’s cum. I rub my forehead on the sopping leather cushion, lathering my hair with my bodily fluids. The pain in my back eventually numbs and my head feels fuzzy. 

“Touch him.” John orders. My head snaps up. What does he mean? 

His henchman slowly lowers his hand to my hip and pushes me a few inches away from the table. My skin painfully detaches from the leather. His hand brushes against my hip and sudden grabs…

“No stop!” I squirm and push my body as hard as I can against the table. It’s no use, Ross pulls me back and wraps his hand around my length. He strokes it gently and I can’t help but react. My hips buck on their own, craving Ross to move his hand faster. 

“You like it don’t you?” John latches onto my chin, “It doesn’t matter if it’s Oliver, Ross, or myself.”

“No, I only like-” Ross unlatches his hand and thrusts hard and fast. Tears are streaming down my face again. 

The scarred man suddenly pushes in deep and rides out his orgasm, pushing my erection into the leather chair. His sweaty chest heaves and wheezes until he recovers from his physical exertion. He reaches around one last time, hand wet with lube and strokes me fast. 

“Stop.” John instructs, “We’re not rewarding him.”

Ross immediately stops. I hear a sickening pop when Ross pulls out of me. John and Ross then work silently cleaning up and putting away their tools. I lay motionless against the table, finding it hard to breathe. Over the period of time they take cleaning up, the aphrodisiac they gave me wears off. My body feels raw and cold.

“Let’s get him off the table now.” John and Ross unlatch the restraints from my bloody cut up wrist. Ross removes a cloth from his pocket and begins wiping down the shackles. John roughly grabs me by the back of my neck and throws me to the ground. My legs are too weak to catch my weight and I collapse on the floor, pants around my ankles, “Looks like we’ll have to bandage his wrists up.”

“Could say it’s a failed suicide attempt.” Ross offers. 

John grins, “What a fine idea there Ross.”

John crouches down, taking in my disgusting, used body, looks over at Oliver and back at me and says, “Now I hope you two learned your lesson. Next time I find you snooping around, I won’t be so forgiving.”

Chapter Text

John reminds us that if we tell anyone anything, there will be another punishment. Oliver and I agree to his terms and he forces us to climb the stairs. It’s painful. John refuses to let me clean off my sticky and slimy skin and instructs us to climb the stairs faster than I possibly have the strength for. I feel warm, wet steams of God know what down my legs. 

“I expect you boys to be up nice and early tomorrow to help with construction.” John calls after us, as if nothing happened. As soon as he’s out of sight Oliver slings my arm over his shoulder and helps me scale the rest of the stairs. Every step feels like an axe to my spine. I let my breath come out unevenly, trying to focus on it rather than the horrible pain that suddenly flared up after the drug wore off. 

Oliver and I meet Ross at the top of the stairs. His face is void of emotion as he leads us to the top of the basement and ushers us out of the dark place. I stagger forward and place my hand on the wall. Oliver gives me a concerned look out of the corner of my eye, but I can’t bear to look back at him. Instead I ask him to do one thing, “Please help me to the bathroom.”

“O-of course.” He stumbles, holding me tightly and slowly guiding me to the bottom of the staircase. The entire trek to the bathroom takes quite a while and the house is oddly empty. It seems like it’s mid afternoon, but what day it is I’m not sure. All the children are outside including Anna. 

I let out a strangled yelp when we finally reach the bathroom. I sit against the side of the tub, leaning more weight on my right to avoid pressure. Oliver prepares the wood stove, slowly setting the kindle on fire and feeding the fire. I try to pay attention to his task instead of how horrible I feel. The flames lick the side of the metal stove and disappear when Oliver finally closes the door. He allows the water to flow through the pipes and be heated by the naturally warm air. 

As the tub fills, Oliver sits beside me. He tries sliding an arm round my shoulders, but I flinch away from the touch. I feel claustrophobic. 

“Sorry.” He says, folding his hands between his knees, “Do you need help…undressing?”

I shake my head. No, of course not, “I’m fine now. Go on home.”

“But-”

“Go.” My words come out sharper than intended. His face twists into an arrangement of emotions. I know he didn’t do this to me and I know this will haunt him just as much, but I need to be alone. Having someone touch me or see my repulsing body is the last thing I want. He apprehensively rises and momentarily stops at the door, taking a glance my way and finally leaves. 

I grab the side of the wooden tub and pull myself up. I’m tempted to plunge myself into the water fully clothed. Instead I turn off the flow of water and begin undressing. I would like to say that it was surprising that John entered the bathroom at the exact time I stripped down to my underwear, but somehow it wasn’t. He eyes my body and closes the door behind him. He locks the door and slowly walks up to me.

“Get your clothes off.” I panic at those words. He grabs me by the shoulders, “I’m not going to do anything to you.”

But I can’t help but shake. I’m terrified of him. He could fuck me again. I slowly take off my white tank. He doesn’t smile and he doesn’t scowl. He stares at me blankly and I’m having a hard time telling if he’s remorseful or if there’s some other motive. I pause at my underwear, “I can’t.”

I’m well aware that my face is burning. He looks at me like I’m the crazy one and suddenly grabs me by the neck, “Scream and I’ll drown you in this tub.”

He grabs the elastic on my underwear and roughly pulls them down. I hold myself against the tub as he pulls both my feet out of my last remaining piece of clothing and tosses them in the garbage. He turns off the water, “Get in.”

I don’t hesitate even if the water is too hot. My skin slowly turns pink while I wait for John’s next move. He picks up a small bowl, fills it with water, and pours it over my head. I shutter as his fingers lather soap through my hair, “Why are you doing this?”

John doesn’t respond, instead he leans down and kisses my neck. The skin where his lips touch pricks up. He scrubs my head and pours another bowl of water on my head. I feel even dirtier the more he touches me. My hands try to cover my nakedness. I know he’s looking at me as if I’m a piece of meat. He’s been staring at me from the moment they adopted me. I think back to all those times I caught him looking me up and down. He was patiently waiting to do this to me after all this time. 

“Stand up.” He commands. I obey as best as I can. My legs are still wobbly but he steadies me. He begins lathering soap over my body, first my chest, then my back, and down my legs. I claw my fingers into the edge of the tub. He rinses me off and applies more soap in a spot I’m not yet ready to be touched.

He notices me taking a shaky breath, “Push it out.”

I realise he’s talking about the cum. I doubt there’s anymore but I don’t dare argue. I push and feel a warm stream suddenly squirt down my leg and trickle into the water, “Oh God.”

“Language.” John snaps. My voice cracks and I’m crying again. He grabs my shoulder, dragging me back down into the tub. He slaps a hand over my mouth, “You stop yer crying or I’ll bring you down there again.”

I nod feverishly. He forces me to stand again and finishes cleaning me invasively. I bite my already torn and bruised lip the entire time. Finally, he grabs my wrists and he shoves them in the water, gently cleaning them. 

“Now, you’re going to play along like a good boy and say nothing to anyone.” He pushes deep into one of the cuts. I wince but the pain is nothing compared to…

I don’t bother responding. He drags me out of the tub and wraps a towel around my waist. If almost on cue, I hear Anna’s voice call for John. He doesn’t skip a beat, “Dear can you come up here?”

My mind quickly puts John’s insane plan together. As Ross said, it appears that I attempted suicide, even though it was the shackles that cut through my skin. I throw John a look of disbelief. I hear Anna climbing the stairs. John runs a hand over my shoulder and down my waist, when she steps onto the third floor he drops his hand from me completely. 

“John?” Anna calls, “Where are you?”

“In the bathroom.” He steps out, his hand clenching tightly around my arm.

“What’s happening?” She's covered in dirt from the vegetable garden.

“It looks like Josh couldn’t handle the punishment.” He states, the emotion in his face completely gone. He lifts my arm and shows her the deep cut he inflicted on my already torn up arms mere minutes ago. 

“Oh my…” Anna covers her mouth, “First I find out he’s playing around with Oliver and now he’s trying to hurt himself? Oh John, what are we going to do with him?”

“Nothing a little hard work won’t handle. I’ll also watch over him for the next few nights. Make sure he ain’t trying anything.” John releases my arm, “I think it’s the only way.”

“Yes, yes of course.” Anna glares at me. I don’t blame her for being upset with me. They took me into their home, fed me, clothed me and right now she believes every word that is coming out of this monster’s mouth, “What should we do about Oliver and Josh’s friendship?”

John pauses, “I think they can continue working together on the farm. Under proper supervision of course. We wouldn’t want them to give into temptation. Oliver is gettin’ to that age, I’ll talk to Samuel about marrying Rachel.”

“No!” I can’t stop myself from shouting. Both Anna and John turn to me in horror. 

“Excuse me?” John turns, furious.

“H-he can’t. I-” I back away a step, “He doesn’t like Rachel.”

“I don’t fucking care if he doesn’t like Rachel.” John grabs me by the throat and throws me against the wall. I dig my finger nails into his hands but he doesn’t budge. He knows that he’s won. Oliver knew he couldn’t be with me. I knew it too, “Do you think that he’s going to be with you? Huh?! Because that’s disgusting.”

He holds me there until I nearly pass out. He turns to Anna and asks for her to leave so that he can tend to my wounds. He drags me back into the bathroom and forces me to sit on the toilet. A dull ache radiates through my back while he wraps my wrists up once again. I’m told to go to the attic where I’m to stay for the rest of the day. Anna will be checking on me every half an hour and more disturbingly, John will be joining me after dinner. 

Chapter Text

Family life continues as usual. Well…sort of. None of the children have spoken to me, even the little ones. Anna provides me with food but does not engage in conversation. Apart from my newly implemented isolation, the family continues acting as if nothing has happened: just like they did when Rachel and Peter received their punishment.

That morning John announces that Rachel and Oliver will be engaged. He doesn’t even bother sending me a glance because he knows it bothers me. Even if they aren’t to be wed until more than two years from now, I still feel sick and stop eating at the mention of the wedding. 

Anna has completely removed the boys from their studies in order for the next building’s construction. John is insistent that it be completed in time. 

I feel John’s eyes on me every movement I make. Since yesterday, I’ve been limping noticeably. I know it bothers him that I’ve been displaying my injury so obviously. I can’t help it. I’m still sore. I think he allows it though. The men know why I’m hurt and the children don’t bother asking. John only cares that the basement is dug out, and there’s a lot of basement to dig out. 

I glance over to Oliver. There are black circles around his eyes and his face is stark pale. He’s probably having nightmares about this entire situation. His blond head refuses to give me any attention and I continue working. 

During the break, I struggle sitting down. The bandages around my wrists are pink and I know I should change them. John is talking to Ross and a few of the man’s cousins. For once, he isn’t paying attention to me. Sherry comes around with water and hands a glass to each of the workers. When she gets to me she simply says, “Nothing changes between us.”

She smiles and continues handing out water. I want to give her a hug and cry and tell her how much that means to me, but John would kill me. He would call me a sexual deviant. That I’m tainting young boys and sexually assaulting his daughters. 

The next few days repeat as follows: get up, convince myself to eat Breakfast, dig, attempt to eat lunch, dig, pick at my supper, go to bed. I no longer sleep in the same room as the rest of the boys. I’m sanctioned to the attic. John removed the second bed and brought my clothes up in a suitcase. Every night he locks the door to the attic unless he feels like it should be a night that he watches me. I much rather be locked in the room by myself than him sleeping beside me. Even if he hasn’t attempted to touch me since he bathed me, I can’t handle his presence. 

My body is exhausted and I’ve been losing weight. I had to tighten my belt a few extra notches. I’ve been trying to eat but I feel nauseous every time I put anything to my lips. It doesn’t help that John insists that I sit beside him during every meal. 

The cuts on my wrists are healing slowly. If I was able to eat more, I’m sure that it would heal faster. The day after the basement incident, John brought a doctor from the city to stitch up the cut he made in the bathroom. The man asked what made me do it and John told him that he caught me having intercourse with another man. He believed John. 

Church is tomorrow and I don’t know if I can stand to be around the congregation. So many people will pick up on my distress. I’m not limping anymore and the pain has nearly numbed down, but in the mirror, I’ve seen the dark circles under my eyes, my pale face, and the stitches on my wrists. They aren’t something John can easily hide. 

There’s a small window in the attic. It overlooks the farm and both Mary and Oliver’s homes. If I was stronger, I could open the panes and climb out. Tonight, however, storm clouds rolled in. It’s raining so hard that I can see the drops hit the ground and bounce up again. 

The floor door creaks and I shut my eyes tightly. My heart picks up and my body trembles. 

“Josh?” Anna’s voice calls. It’s the first time in days since she’s directly talked to me. 

I clear my throat, “Y-yeah?”

“We want you to stay home tomorrow alright?” she says sweetly as if nothing changed between us.

“Ok.” I look out the window, to Oliver’s home. His window light is still on. I wonder if Oliver will attend or not.

“Good. Make sure you rest well and eat.” She calls, “You haven’t been eating much and you need your strength.”

“Ok.” She closes the door and I hear the familiar clink of the lock closing. I chuckle pathetically, laying down in my cot, “Trapped.”

Although it normally doesn’t take me long to fall asleep, it doesn’t take me long to wake up either. Every night, no matter how exhausted I am, I always wake up at exactly three. Tonight isn’t an exception. I jolt awake and look around the room. The haze from whatever sleep I had wears off quickly. I always have a feeling that he’s watching me, even if he isn’t in the room. I’m probably going crazy. I push the blankets away from me and softly place my feet on the floor. I check around the room and see if the door is still locked. There’s no sign of John and the door is still locked. 

I lay down in my bed again, struggling to fall asleep again, but I eventually do. When I wake, streams of late morning sunshine hit my face. I look over to the small clock on the wall and confirm it’s well past breakfast. The family has gone to church by now, meaning for once in the few months I’ve been here, I’m alone. 

At first, I half expected the hatch to be locked, but it isn’t. The house is eerily quiet. I check all of the rooms for anyone left behind and sigh with relief when there isn’t. I can take the next few hours to gather my thoughts at least. 

I make myself porridge and look at the list of chores Anna wrote down on a small piece of paper. Feed the horses and chop wood. Typical for a Sunday. I try to ignore the protest my stomach makes when I feed myself and end up finishing the entire bowl. 

I feed the fifteen horses the family owns and spend a little too much time petting and talking to Molly. Her tail whips around her body, swatting at the flies. She’s too busy eating her breakfast away to notice my odd behaviour. I think I’ll ride her after I chop the wood. It would be worth getting the practice in. 

A few hours later, I stack the last of the chopped wood. I wipe my brow and make my way to the house for a drink. The hard work alone helped me clear my mind. 

That is, until I open the door.

In the shadows I can see it. The two locks lay on the floor carelessly. The dark abyss unwelcoming presence sends shivers down my spine. The basement door is wide open. 
I close the door as quietly as I can, but it’s possible that whoever is in the basement already knows I’m here. John’s truck isn’t back, I would have noticed. There were some other vehicles, but I thought that they were Mr. Hunter’s vehicles. There’s only one way on and off this property and that’s the road. The land itself is situated on acres and acres of forest. There aren’t any neighbours surrounding the property.

I slip my boots off and quietly step closer and closer to the basement door. The house is eerily quiet. If someone’s down there, it’s possible that they’re deep into the basement. I swallow and turn the corner; the lights aren’t on. It’s difficult to see, but there’s a faint light at the bottom of the stairs from the subbasement’s staircase. 

I should close the door and lock it up tight. I should go back outside and saddle up Molly. Right now is a good time to practise because it’s warm and sunny outside. Molly needs a good ride. She has a few pounds she could afford to lose. 

Dead silence.

John would kill me if there was a robber and I knew about it. I can’t afford to be locked up again down there. 

I take the first step cautiously. My hearing perks up and I strain to hear anything. My heart begins thumping. Who the hell is down there?

I reach the bottom of the staircase and curl my fingers around the bannister. There still isn’t any sound. There’s nothing but my own breathing. Pressing against the wall, I slowly peak around the corner. My eyes immediately rest on the ajar snake door. Someone turned on the lights in the sub basement.

The stone is cold beneath my feet. As soon as I reach the desk a cold chill runs through my body. Something doesn’t feel right. I stop at the top of the stairs, staring down into the coiling corridor. The lights buzz overhead but I still can’t hear anything. 

My legs shake during the descent. I can’t remember how far down these stairs go. I stop every few steps to listen for any sounds. It isn’t until the stone feels damp and cold when I finally hear something. I stop immediately and focus on the sound. There’s someone walking about, I can hear their shoes tapping. There’s glass clinking and drawers opening. 

More importantly, there’s someone softly crying. It sounds like a woman.

I will myself to step down two more steps. I don’t know if the next bend is the opening to the sub basement and I don’t want whoever is down there to find out. 

“Shut yer damn trap.” That voice, I know it. It’s rough like a smoker. 

“Please…” I don’t recognize the woman though. Why the hell would they take an outsider down here?

“I said shut up!” I hear a metal bar ricochet off the stone floor. The woman snuffles a scream. I take another two steps down; the doorway comes into view. I can see the back of Ross’ head. He’s wearing his work clothes and is holding a pair of pliers, “Now I ain’t got much time. I gotta check up on the boy.”

Me? Why? I step back. I can’t see the woman’s face from this angle, but I can see Ross place his pliers on either side of her index finger. I cringe, looking away, looking back. He’s not serious is he?

“Now, I ain’t gonna tell you twice. Let this be your warning.” He bends down close to her face, I have to calm my breath to hear him whisper, “Don’t you tell another soul about John’s books. That’s for him to do. We’re lucky the first person you told thought you were insane.”

She knows about the books too? How? Do they have a copy in their home and can they read the language? The woman lets out a blood curdling screech. She thrashes around in the chair. The legs rattle against the ground. 

“Ross I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She cries over and over again. I hear a slap. It echoes through the room and suddenly the woman is quiet. Ross repositions the pliers over a different finger and the woman screams again. She’s shouting absolute nonsense. Pleading and crying for him to stop when he does the same to the next finger. This time I hear the bone pop. 

“I’ll decide if I want another wife or not. It’s not up to you.” He points at her. Another wife? Polygamy isn’t permitted by the church. 

I cover my mouth and close my eyes tight. I feel nausea creep up my throat. Wife? Is he insane? How could he do that to his wife? I turn and start ascending the stairs slowly. 

“My dear, if I ever hear you say anything to anyone again. I’ll drag you back down here and I’ll skin you alive.” The woman immediately stops her crying, probably because she knows it’s true, “Now, get back to the car. I need to go check up on that boy and I’ll join you.” 

I hear him unshackle his wife and leave immediately. Once I reach the front door I take off into a sprint. The first thing I do is hide in the barn. There’s a reasonable explanation to be in here. I’m taking Molly for a ride. She needs it. That’s why I’m in the barn.

I take a breath, and then another. I hear a car’s door slam and I know he’s heading here to find me. I grab Molly’s saddle, reins, and blanket from the wall and push the barn door open. I see Ross out of the corner of my eye, but I pretend that I can’t see him. He’s only a few feet away when I place Molly’s saddle on the fence and turn around. 

“All done yer chores boy?” He asks, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

“Yes sir.” I nod, my heart racing.

“What’s the matter hm?” He steps forward and I step back into a fence post.

“Nothing sir.” I really can’t afford to let him know that I had seen everything. I’m sure that he doesn’t know. He was too preoccupied with torturing his wife. 

He smirks, closing the distance between us. I want to stare him straight in the eyes, stand up tall, and push him back, but something in the back of my mind freezes me. My heart picks up pace again as he places a hand on my shoulder, “Scared of me?”

I swallow, and he chuckles. It’s the darkest thing I’ve ever heard. 

“Why are you here sir?” I boldly try to change the topic of conversation, but it fails.

“To check up on you.” He removes his hand from my shoulder and presses it against my chest, “Making sure that you’re doing yer chores and not fooling around.”

“I am. I’m taking Molly out for a ride now.” My eyes land on a long piece of grass poking out from the pasture. 

“Your ass feels good enough to go for a ride?” he laughs, removing his hand. I’m so happy no one else is close enough around to hear this conversation.

My face turns red. My voice is low enough that I’m surprised that he even hears me, “Yeah…”

“Good, I can’t wait to fuck your hole again.” Ross is in my face, grabbing my chin. My hands instantly go to his wrist and shove his hands off my body. 

“Don’t touch me!” I yell. Ross is momentarily stunned while I stumble away from him. I stop near the entrance of the barn, feeling dizzy. My hands are shaking uncontrollably. 

Instead of an angry reaction I hear him laugh, “We sure taught you good. Never knew it would work so well on ya.”

His eyes narrow, “Better than you than Rachel.”

“What?” Did Rachel also…? I back up and Ross follows me into the barn. I turn to run, planning to escape out the back door when he grabs me from behind and tackles me to the ground. I lose my breath but try and push him off me. He eventually grabs my wrists and presses them into the straw covered ground. 

“Do you want to go back in the basement?” he grins. His face is inches away from mine. I can tell he’s been drinking. I shake my head, tears suddenly threatening to fall, “Well if you do me a favour, I won’t tell John about something you didn’t do.”

I nod slowly, unsure what deal he’s trying to make with me. A million suggestions come to mind.

“John doesn’t know I’m here and I want to keep it that way.” I nod again. If this is the deal he wants, I’ll be more than compliant. He’s got me completely immobilised. Ross’ legs are straddling both sides of my hips. His entire weight bearing down on my body. 

“Good.” He releases me and stands up, “I knew we could come to a mutual understanding.”

Chapter Text

I took Molly for a ride after Ross left, but it had taken me almost an hour to leave the barn. I thought it was going to happen again. John wouldn’t have known or believed me. No one would. John would probably beat me for even mentioning such an activity ever took place with another man or for lying. 

I tried running with Molly. It was scary at first, but I had to remind myself that nothing was scarier than going down to the basement again. I nearly forgot about the pace Molly and I were taking until we almost reached the end of the property. I looked out at the open road, really taking in how isolated this family is from the rest of the world. It would take hours to get to town on foot. Even all day. 

The family returned home at the same time as usual. Anna was more than pleased to see the amount of wood that I chopped. All the children sat in the living room while Anna began making an evening snack. John left to speak with Mr. Hunter. The little ones are playing with hand made blocks and supervised by Sherry and James. The twins spend time near the fire braiding each other’s hair. The two that I want to see, Peter and Rachel, are sitting quietly reading books at the school table. 

I grab a book from Anna’s collection and sit on the other side of them. They barely offer me a glance when I do. The children are quite noisy, knocking over their make-believe buildings and laughing. I take this opportunity to bring up a conversation Peter and Rachel will most likely ignore or criticise me for bringing up. Even if they decide to shut me down, at least Anna won’t hear my question.

“Peter. Rachel.” I whisper. They don’t acknowledge me. I know they’ve been told to ignore me. Only Sherry will interact with me. I know I’m not supposed to say anything about what happened in the basement, but I need to know what happened to the both of them. 

“What did he do to you in the basement?” After the inclination, Rachel’s head shoots up. Her hair is a bit longer now but she’s still pale from staying in the house nearly all the time. Peter stiffens but doesn’t raise his eyes. Everyone in the room seems to carry on but Rachel has a look of horror on her face. 

“I…” the words barely come out of her lips. Peter immediately looks at her.

“We’re not supposed to talk to him.” He says. There’s a distant look in his eyes. 

“I’ve been down there.” I press.

They both are silent, eyes downcast. Rachel puts her book down on the table, “I know.”

“I guess it’s not a secret anymore.” Peter says. His eyes dart out to the hallway. Anna’s singing continues. She’s bringing out pots and pans because we can hear metal banging. 

Peter continues, “We’re not supposed to talk to you, we can get in a lot of trouble.”

“I know.” I lean forward, “What does John do to you? After what happened…I…just can’t believe he would do that same to his own children.”

“Depends what it is.” Peter offers, “It’s different every time. At least for me.”

“Sometimes to fit the punishment.” Rachel whispers, her hands clasping each other tightly.

“What did he do last time?” I ask, “To the both of you.”

Peter again takes in his surroundings, listening to Anna’s tune and the children playing. Then he rolls up his sleeve, displaying still healing cuts that look almost like burns. He rolls his sleeve back down a second later, “Cut my arms open and poured acid in them. Burnt for a whole week. They’re just starting to fade. Pa said it would take a few months until they’ve disappeared completely, so I’ve been working outside all day in my shirt. The heat has been unbearable.”

There’s nothing I can really say in response. It’s a horrible punishment, but I’m almost relieved that John didn’t give Peter the same punishment as I got. However, when Rachel finally speaks, my blood runs cold.

“Pa let Ross take my virginity.” 

Her eyes are glazed over, that thousand-yard look. When she finally snaps out of it, our eyes meet. Although I already know, the hurt on her face makes me sick to my stomach. I swallow hard and my voice doesn’t come out much more audible than hers, “Mine too.”

Rachel’s soft hands immediately take mine and she gives me a small squeeze. I squeeze her hands back and she pulls them away. Peter looks dumbstruck, “He did that to…the both of you?”

Rachel and I nod. I swallow and try to meet his eye when I say it, “John did too.”

Both of the monster’s children look at me. How starkly different they are from him. They can’t seem to understand what I’ve said. I don’t let them, “I didn’t try to commit suicide. It was from the chair.”

Peter’s eyes flick down to the bandages around my wrists. They’ve been changed everyday this week to ensure that all the scars heal nicely. 

“Father wouldn’t-” Peter begins but Rachel lightly places a hand over his mouth. 

“Josh, is it true. Are you…” she doesn’t know how to word it and I’m not sure what she’s asking, “You and Oliver are…?”

Oh. I bite my lip and let my gaze drop. There’s an uncomfortable silence between all of us. Something tells me that Rachel isn’t surprised that John raped me. She’s used to him lying, otherwise she wouldn’t need to ask if I was gay or not. She probably wasn’t sure if it was the truth or not. 

“I can’t believe I’m going to marry Oliver…” She says, looking very sad, “Pa says it’s because no one would want an unmaidened wife and Oliver could never truly love me back.”

“That’s not true.” Peter grabs her hand, “Anyone would be happy to have a wife like you. You know how to cook and clean and you’re polite-”

“No.” she says firmly, pulling away, “If Father tells anyone else, they would never take my hand in marriage unless they are a deviant. Oliver is the best one for me without putting me at risk and that’s his punishment too.”

I never thought of it that way. I thought it was my punishment the entire time, but it’s his as well. John knew that he didn’t need to do anything to Oliver because he’s sensitive. Even after witnessing John and Ross assault me, he already knew that he couldn’t have me. He knew that one day he would have to marry a woman and begin his own family. He knew that time was ticking down for him and that his feelings were just going to make it harder to move on. Meeting me didn’t help much and now he has to marry the one person that would always remind him of me. 

“Thank you for telling me.” I whisper, closing my book. Rachel doesn’t bother looking up from her spot, but Peter looks shocked. I’m not sure why. He probably already knew about what happened to Rachel. Why wouldn’t he? All the children who had their own experience down in the basement kept quiet, at least to strangers. Peter and James had shared a look the first time I asked about the basement. James knew about what happened to Peter, “Why don’t you ever tell anyone?”

“No one will believe us.” Peter says, “And Father will punish us if we do.”

I leave the living room and go outside. In the distance I can hear frogs croaking. I feel less sorry for myself and more concerned about Rachel. She was so excited to get married one day. She was sure that John was going to arrange for her to be married to a nice young man. While Oliver is a nice, young man, he will never be attracted to her. He could be her best friend, but never her partner. She could never remarry. A lot of men around here would scoff at the idea of marrying a woman who wasn’t a virgin. A woman who isn’t a virgin is seen as a prostitute. 

Rachel’s punishment was perfectly orchestrated by John. She probably knew that she wasn’t supposed to dance with me that night. His punishment had to be cruel enough to scare the rest of his kids from misbehaving. Especially me. I am the outsider. Seeing her demeanour change overnight did bother me a lot. Of course, it did peak my curiosity even more, but John might have already known that. I doubt John knew that I liked Oliver, but this series of events just made it easier for John to punish us. Now Oliver, Rachel, and I are stuck in a situation together that we could never untangle ourselves from.

“What’re you doing out here?” I know it’s John before he says a word. He has a gait that I’ve begun to recognize after the numerous times he’s come to sleep beside me. 

“Nothing sir. Just getting some air.” I say. John takes a seat beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I flinch, and he digs his fingers into my shoulder.

“Now, now, you just settle down.” He moves his hand into my hair and pushes me into the crook of his neck. He kisses the top of my head and breathes in deeply, “You’ve been a good boy today.”

I don’t like how he’s talking.

“Let’s go inside and have a drink. I think you deserve it.” He runs his fingers through my hair, gently massaging my scalp. It would feel nice if it wasn’t him doing it. I’m too afraid to move and he pats my head and sits me up. He sits up straight, stretches and I think he’s about to get up but instead turns and kisses me on the lips. His cold eyes meet mine and in a stern voice he commends, “Come on now.”

I stand up and follow him into the kitchen. John sits at the head of the table and I take a seat directly beside him. Anna cheerfully brings him a beer and kisses him on the same lips that just kissed me. 

“Anna, bring Josh a beer too.” John takes a long drink out of the clear brown bottle. Anna pauses for a second but faithfully does what he says. She places an open beer in front of me and gives me an awkward smile. 

“Josh did a good job all on his own today.” John says, “Don’t you think Anna?”

“He did.” She brings over a plate of strawberry cake. The piece set in front of me is double layered with a pink icing separating the two sponges. Anna has imbedded a few strawberries on the white icing on top. It looks sickly sweet, “Chopped enough to last a few days.”

Anna places the rest of the plates along the table. The rest of the children join us but give me a strange look when they see the beer in my hand. I sip small amounts slowly. It tastes pretty good. It has a sort of oak flavour. I haven’t really drunk before, other than the occasional glass of wine or beer during mass supper. I’m only halfway through both the beer and cake when the rest of the children finish their dessert. Anna takes the little ones upstairs to get ready for bed. The rest of the children gather the plates off the table and begin to clean up.

I rise to help them but John interjects, “No, you’ve done enough today, sit down and finish your beer.”

Slowly I sit back down. I’m not really in the mood to eat, let alone drink, but I do anyway. John must think that I’ve been behaving pretty well and is rewarding me. I slowly force myself to finish the cake and take a long drink. I can see John watching me out of the corner of my eye.

“How about we play some cards boy?” he asks. 

“I should get ready for bed.” I say honestly.

John scoffs, “Peter and James can do some of your morning chores tomorrow. ‘Sides tomorrows a holiday. Nobody is working.”

“O-ok.” Eerily nice to me. John asks one of the twins to hand him the cards and two more beers. I finish the rest of my beer and take a new one. He asks me what kind of games I know how to play and I list the ones that Oliver showed me. John deals the cards and we play in an uncomfortable silence. We speak only a few words between each other, mostly comments about rules and letting the other know when one has completed their turn. 

The rest of the children seem put off by John’s demeanour, especially Peter. All six of them take a turn looking back at the table while they clean the counters and the dishes. This is definitely not ordinary and as I take another drink from my beer, I feel more unnerved. Out of sheer nervousness, I bring the bottle to my lips repeatedly. When I finish, John asks Sherry to bring them another beer. 

I’m starting to feel a bit tipsy and relaxed. I don’t think I should drink anymore. But when John offers me a third beer, something tells me I shouldn’t say no. We continue playing in awkward silence until the rest of the children leave. 

“Now then, I have a treat I wanna share with you.” John rises up and strolls over to the kitchen. He opens one of the cupboards and pulls out a clear bottle filled with a purple drink. He pours it into two small glasses and brings them over. He places one in front of him and one in front of me. 

I take the glass and watch him drink the entire thing in one swig. I take a sip and recoil. It’s strong.

“Not like that.” John slams his cup down, “You’ve gotta drink the entire thing at once.”

I press the small glass to my mouth and tip my head back. The liquid doesn’t have a taste until it goes down my throat. My whole-body shivers from the sudden aftertaste. John laughs, “That’s the way you do it.”

He deals another hand of cards and pours me another small glass of purple drink. He puts the bottle back and joins me for the next round of whatever game we’re playing. My head is starting to spin. I take a drink of beer to wash out the taste of the drink. At the end of the round, John wins and points at the small glass. I take another drink and this time it isn’t so bad, but that’s because I’m starting to feel drunk. 

He takes my bottle and finishes the last bit of beer. Then he gathers up all the remaining bottles and throws them away. I sit there, watching him through my tired eyes as he cleans the two small glasses and puts them away in the cupboard. I place two hands on the table and stand up. The room feels like it’s spinning. With the amount I just drank and the fact that I’ve barely been able to eat for the past week, I’m surprised I’m not vomiting. 

“Can I go to bed now?” I ask, “Sir?”

John presses his palms into the table and leans over, “Of course you can.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to get a real good look at John. He’s smirking but it looks lop-sided. I take a deep breath and stumble away from the table. I make it to the stairs when John appears directly behind me. He slings my arm around his shoulder and helps me up the stairs. I’m too tired and dizzy to care. I’ve had too much and I’m not even sure I can make it up to my new room. 

I lean against the hallway wall and John opens the attic. I stumble to the stairs and begin to climb. I barely notice that John follows me up and closes the door behind him. 

Not until he pins me down to the bed. I’m too tired and drunk to do anything useful. I thrash around and he covers my mouth with his hand, warning that if I don’t stay quiet, the whole house could wake up. 

“Anna isn’t available for the next few days.” Available? Available how? The drunken haze wears off momentarily, “Don’t worry boy, this ain’t a punishment.”

He presses his body against mine. He lifts his hand off my mouth and replaces it with his lips. I push against his chest, desperately trying to get him off of me, but I can’t move him. He pushes his tongue through my lips and I bite down hard. 

John pulls away and slaps my face hard. He doesn’t say anything and continues kissing me. He pushes my shirt up and caresses my chest, feeling my skin. His hips grind against mine, holding them steadily in place. I’m not aroused but it’s clear that John is. 

He stops kissing me and brings one of his hands to my face. He runs his thumb over my cheek and then grabs my hair roughly, “If you do what I say, I won’t fuck you.”

I nod. I’ll do anything at this point to avoid that . He grabs one of my hands and places it on his crotch. The tremors from the afternoon return. I can barely grab the zipper to his pants and actually fail pulling it down the first three times until John finally does it himself. 

“What are you so afraid of?” he whispers in my ear. I place my hand flatly on his underwear, feeling the piece of John that intruded my body a week ago. He pulls me closer, rolling onto his side and kissing my neck. I slowly place my hand around him and caress the cotton material. He breathes and bucks his hips into my hand. 

“Come on now. Touch me.” He orders. My hand finds its way under the elastic and John immediately pushes himself into my hand. He gasps and bucks his hips again. One of his hands finds my lower back and pulls me in close. I begin moving my hand in rhythm with John. The faster John cums, the faster this is over. 

He reaches down my back and grasps my ass tightly. A cry bubbles out of my mouth. I’m scared if he doesn’t finish now, he’ll pin me down and…I move my hand faster. John seems to like this and I don’t care as long as he doesn’t do anything else. 

Suddenly he grabs me roughly by my hair and pushes my head against his stomach. He swats my hand away from his dick and grabs it himself. I hear him swearing and telling me how I’m a pretty boy. I try to distance myself, but he tightens his grip in my hair and presses my face against the tip of his dick. I squeeze my eyes shut when he tells me he’s going to cum. 

His hips buck for the last time and I feel John’s warm cum gush all over my face and into my hair. He’s breathing heavily and pressing his dick against my face.

John pulls me up by the hair, places a cloth on my face and wipes it clean, “Always wanted to do that to your face.”

He dabs the semen in my hair and finally releases his grip. He throws the dirty cloth into my pile of dirty laundry and strips down to his underwear. I lay back down, completely immobilized by John’s behavior and fearful that if I remove any clothing, he’ll fuck me. John wraps his arms around my body and kisses my neck, “That’s a good boy.”

Chapter Text

After Sunday night I haven’t been able to eat again. I want to eat, become stronger, get the hell out of here, but anytime I try to eat, I feel sick. I feel John’s cum on my face and smell its salty odour. I’m even more scared now that I know John doesn’t need to wait for a reason for me to mess up. Since I was compliant, not only did he let me drink that night, he’s been buying me small items. Last night, for instance, he bought me new shampoo that he said he liked and would not leave the bathroom until he finished using it to wash my hair. 

The only time I feel safe is during construction. John is busy enough instructing everyone to do their tasks that he normally forgets that I exist. Anytime after that, he always finds a way to be around me. 

The family is sitting down for supper. Anna made a Shepherd’s Pie, usually one of my favourite meals, but I’m not hungry. Rachel has been trying to make me eat by sending small treats up to my room through Peter. I have barely been able to finish them.

“Josh, please try to finish more of your supper dear.” Anna pleads. I almost want to tell her why I’ve been feeling this way, but I don’t want to break her heart. Unless she already knows, it would destroy her. 

“Ok.” I take a small spoonful and force myself to eat it. The consistency of the potato doesn’t agree with my stomach of course. It’s white and thick. 

I can feel Rachel, James, and Sherry stare at me. Even Sherry knows by now what happened. 

“Oh, that reminds me.” Anna says as she finishes feeding Conner, “The summer festival is tomorrow. Why don’t we all go as a family?”

“Sure, we can take the neighbours.” John agrees, “Maybe next year we’ll have one here.”

Anna laughs, “Oh John, you and your ideas.”

The family shares a short laugh and I can’t help but stand. “I’m sorry I’m not feeling well. May I leave?”

“Yeah, yeah.” John waves me away like it’s nothing. 

Go over and sit by the window, in the distance I can see Oliver’s house. I wonder how he’s been doing. Every day I see him, but I don’t have the opportunity to speak with him under John’s watchful eye. I have noticed him looking at me. I’ve even received a sad smile. I just need the chance to have him alone somewhere, away from John. 

I want to leave this place. I want to leave with him or at least help him get out. I’ll be seventeen sometime next year. Maybe that’ll be old enough to get some sort of labour job. I’ll do anything to leave and to make sure he can leave too. If he doesn’t want me even after everything, that’s fine. I just want to make sure that he’s safe. 

Maybe Rachel can come too. She can find a nice man that will love her regardless of what Ross did to her. She’s always wanted to marry her prince in shining armour. She’s been kind to me and been so strong even though she experienced the same torture as I have. She deserves a better life. 

I want to bring Peter and Sherry too, but I’m not sure that they’ll want to go. After our conversation Sunday night, Rachel’s been telling me in secret that she knows that there’s no life for her here. There’s no way Oliver will be able to have a child with her. She’s mentioned Nathaniel’s older sister who ran away before she turned eighteen. We’re both not sure if she’s still alive somewhere, but Rachel wants to believe that she is. 

From the distance I can see his silhouette in the window. He’s quite far away but I know it’s him because his room is on the second floor. I wonder if he looks at my house and looks for me. 

Everyone’s mood is lifted when we pile into the truck. Sherry explains to me that the Summer festival is for celebrating the changing season. Fall is just around the corner and soon we will be harvesting the crops. Thousands of people will be there. There’s dancing, games, food, singing, and ‘just a ton of things to do’ (as per Sherry’s description). Everyone is dressed in a tunic with a cloak. I sort of like this because if I ever need to lose myself in the crowd, at least there’s that. 

It takes us over an hour to arrive at the spot where the festival is held. Just a few minutes out of town, everything was set up by volunteers. John is one of those volunteers. This morning when I heard I almost couldn’t contain my excitement. John would be busy all evening. 

What’s more, Oliver would be coming and I could finally talk with him. 

There’s a grassy area just before the entrance of the festival. A large banner covered in red lights sparkles in the dusk. Beyond that are hundreds of white canvas tents varying in all different sizes. In the distance I can hear music and smell the aroma of food. 

Anna lets us out of the vehicle and gives us money, “If any of you need someone, your father will be at the beer tent and I’ll be with the little ones at the petting zoo or the playground. If you still can’t find us, Mr. Hunter is at the dance hall.”

Hanna, Zacharias, Isabelle, and Conner take each other’s hands and walk with Anna. Jacob, Sophia, Olivia, and James take off to play the games. Sherry, Peter, Rachel, and I stay together. I’m glad that I’m finally able to talk to the rest of the children normally. Unlike a few days ago, the children haven’t been allowed to speak to me. 

“Where to first?” Sherry says, her arms swinging wildly. She’s flapping her cloak as if she is flying. 

“Something to eat?” Peter suggests. Everyone mumbles ok and we head away from the grassy courtyard and through the first row of white tents. Each venue has a different type of food. There’s a lot of smoked meat, soups, cakes, candy, and more. My stomach grumbles when we stop in front of a hamburger shop. There’s a deal for four and we each pitch in a bit of our money. 

“Wow!” Peter says, unwrapping his burger. It’s the size of my unfolded hand, covered in cheese, pickles, lettuce, tomatoes, and a mystery sauce. I take a bite and it’s the best thing I’ve eaten in awhile. 

“Even Josh likes it.” Rachel smiles. I shrug and follow the group onto the next set of tents. There’s a whole bunch of shops down here. From purses to birdhouses to dog collars to clothing. There are rows and rows of shops. Rachel begs us to go with her shopping and we spend the next hour walking through shops and looking at bags and clothing and whatever else catches her attention. 

She finally decides on a pretty dress blue covered in apples. The dress nicely covers her figure modestly. The sleeves come down almost to her elbow and the skirt poofs out. She stuffs it in the bag she brought along with her. 

“Let’s go down this way!” she shouts excitedly, dragging Sherry along with her. The crowd thickens at this part of the festival. There are more booths with homemade food and beyond that I can see the gates to the beer tents.

Peter notices me freeze in my tracks. I know he’s nearby and only a few tents down. Peter grabs my arm, “Hey Sherry, Rachel! Let’s go down this way!”

Rachel stops, the tent closest to the gate and nods. Peter drags me perpendicular and down another row of shops. By the time we stop, I don’t even realise that I’m shaking. Peter sits me down on the bench and pulls out a bottle of water from his pouch, “Here.”

“Thanks.” I take a sip of water and watch Rachel fawn over some piece of jewellery. Sherry rolls her eyes.

“Are you alright?” Peter sits beside me.

“Yeah I’m fine. I don’t know what got into me.” I admit. I really don’t. I shouldn’t be so afraid.

“Ok, well why don’t you sit down for a bit?” He offers, “I’ll try and keep those two in the vicinity. You can join us when you feel like it?”

“Sure.” I nod, and he leaves. Music plays in the distance. It’s an upbeat tune primarily led by a violin. It’s a happy sound. I lean back into the bench. Something catches my eye. On the side of a tent, there’s a small poster. From here I can’t tell what it is exactly. Looking back to see that Rachel, Sherry, and Peter are still in the same spot, I inch my way over. It’s an advertisement. A plain lined border surrounds the rectangular paper with the inscription below:

Do you wish to escape from the modern world?

Do you want a better life for your family?

Has your religion led you astray?

Nova may be the answer you are looking for.

Send a request for information letter to 1000 Tilwood Way.

On the very bottom of the paper, above the torn tabs containing multitudes of the same address, and the same symbol as the books had from the basement’. I immediately rise and look around the busy market. It takes a while at first, but then I spot a second advertisement. A few addresses are torn off the bottom. 

Soon enough I can spot several fliers. All in places that are easy to spot yet blend in. Most of them are posted at every second or third tent entrance. Others are placed on fence posts, on barrels, or wagons. The fliers are missing several mailing addresses. Is this John’s doing? 

Someone not older than me approaches the advertisement a few feet away. He reads the exert and continues looking at it for a few moments. I watch him remove an address and place it in his pocket before walking away. 

The three siblings are still goggling over some handmade product when someone rests a hand on my shoulder. My entire back tenses and I flinch. I swing around, catching the attention of some passersby.

“I-I’m sorry.” His voice soothes my nerves, “I really didn’t mean to catch you off guard.”

“Oliver.” I say, holding the urge to wrap my arms around him. His face is a bit paler than what I remember. His bright blond hair has grown out a little bit, forcing him to tuck the long hair behind his left ear. There are still dark circles around his eyes, but it’s no wonder after what he saw. His collarbone pokes up from underneath his button up shirt. I feel self conscious, if I’m noticing these things about him, he’s certainly noticing these things about me.  

Oliver takes a quick glance around us. A few people who stopped to stare at us have already moved on. He whispers, “Follow me.”

He turns around slowly and walks directly between two of the vendor tents. I watch for a second as he disappears between the white folds of canvas. I look over to the spot where the three siblings were and notice that they’re still busy. I hesitantly follow Oliver into this unknown section of the festival grounds.

I see him turning a corner just as I enter between the mere two feet of space. The narrow passageway is dark, barely lightened by the overhead hanging lamps covering this group of tents. I can hear shop owners speaking to their customers and smell the distinct buttery scent of kettle corn. Oliver takes another turn down and an even narrower passageway. I squeeze between the flapping walls and slowly inch my way through. 

Finally, after a few more claustrophobic steps, I push aside two white flaps and walk into a small grassy area. In the middle, a large tree sits. Dozens of strings of lights wrap around this tree and fan out to the festival grounds. Around the tree, tall grass grows. It’s a small space, but plenty enough room for Oliver and I to sit down comfortably.

“No one will find us here.” Oliver says, bringing his knees to his chest, “Only at the end of the festival when they’ve got to take down the lights.”

I sit down beside him. I’m not sure what to say after the way I spoke to him after our time in the basement. 

He speaks up before I can, “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”

The music from the festival rings a merry tune. Children’s excited screams and laughs carry albeit muffled. The lights above give off a soft, comforting glow in all sorts of colours. I try to pay attention to all these stimulations, anything to get away from the heavy feeling in my chest.

“I’m thinking about leaving.” The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them, “And I want you to come with me.”

I want to say that my chest is fluttering with the prospect of Oliver escaping with me, or that I can feel the oncoming dread of him turning down my offer. But I can’t say I feel anything. I’m exhausted, scared, and at my wit’s end. I just want to offer him an exit. If he takes it or not, it’s his decision. 

“You can’t leave.” Oliver says, his hand gently touches my knee and my body jerks unwillingly.

“I can’t stay here Oliver.” I shake my head. 

“At least wait until winter is over.” He pleads. I know he’s right. If I leave now, I may not find a place to live when the snow sets. I have to be able to find some sort of job and place to stay. At least in the summer I’ll be able to sleep outside. On the other hand, can I really wait a few more months? The last few days have been unbearable. How can I possibly stand John’s advances anymore?

I train my eyes on the grass below my feet, “Will you go with me?”

Oliver wraps his arms around my shoulders and hugs me tightly. He places his face in the crook of my neck. I have to take a breath. The contact of his skin sends an unwelcoming feeling through my body, but I force myself to wrap my arms in receipt. 

“Of course I will.” Oliver mumbled into my neck. He hugs me tighter and I realise he’s crying. 

“Oliver, don't cry.” I pet his hair, “It’s okay.”

“I’m so sorry.” Oliver sobs, “I want to see you everyday. I want to protect you from him.”

The unwelcoming feeling of contact between Oliver and I suddenly disappears. I hug him back and place a hand into his blond hair. I breathe his scent in and squeeze his shoulder, “I know. I know.”

“Please hold on until spring.” Olivier whispers into my ear, “I couldn’t stand knowing that you froze to death.”

“I promise.” Although, I’m not sure if I can keep it. 

As Oliver and I part, I can’t help but feel both happiness and dread. Happiness because I’ve finally been able to see, speak, and touch him. It has been far too long, and I feel a lot better now that I’ve talked to him. There’s a possibility that we can leave this god-awful place. 

I return flawlessly back to the festival without anyone noticing anything strange. Our time was short together because we can’t afford anyone to notice we were anywhere near each other. 

I keep an eye out for the rest of the family. My mind wanders to the posters strewn up all over the festival.

I have a terrible feeling that this somehow is related to everything. 

Chapter Text

John has found additional helpers after the festival. At least seven individuals have been volunteering their time. Because he is now receiving free labour, he fired the contractors he previously hired. I overheard that the new volunteers have no family. They’ve either left their family or have been living as single adults for a long time. Maybe they are some kind of migrants? There are now two women and five men. Mary has taken both women and three men into her home, while John has found room for the remaining two men. Unfortunately, that means staying with me in my room. Both men usually ignore me. I feel sort of safe in the meantime, especially since John has not been visiting me in the last week or so. 

I really am stuck here until winter comes and goes. I have to learn how to protect myself, even if that means shutting my mind down. I know someone will end up assaulting me again. If I fight back, there’s no telling what punishment John will give me. 

The leaves are now falling from the trees. The family has worked hard harvesting the crops and readying the farm for winter while John,  the new volunteers, Oliver’s family, James, Peter, and I work on the new building. The basement has been dug and the concrete laid. The main floor now has floorboards installed and the frame for all three stories are now standing. We’re working on the walls and electrical. 

At some point during the week, we were told to split into two groups and begin digging two new foundations before Sunday. I think John isn't too keen on having two strangers in his house and his daughter's house. The sooner they can leave, the better. I hope we finish soon too because I'm almost certain that John will keep us working even when the snow falls. Winter won't arrive for another few weeks, so the harder and faster we work, the better. 

We have still been attending church, even though at this point the other members of the community have been acting oddly around us. We receive odd stares and even some families have outright glared at us. I’m not entirely sure why, maybe they are suspicious of why so many people are living on John’s land? 

"Did you get to see it last night?" One of the newest volunteers whispers to another. 

"I did. It was beautiful." The man says, he's probably only in his twenties, "I can't believe something like that exists. Do you think we'll be able to join them up there one-day?"

The two men look at the overcast sky admirably, "I sure hope so. If we do what they say, I think we'll go there faster than we think."

The sky? I'm tempted to look up as well, but I don't want to make it obvious that I'm overhearing their conversation. I recall what Oliver told me a while back - John had told his father that he had met someone from the sky. Did John tell these people the same story?

...last night...I think John asked that the new members join him outside for some kind of excursion. I was confined to my room, of course, so I wasn't able to follow them. It seems whatever they saw encouraged, no, inspired them to pour their soul into this work. I wonder if whatever happened last night had been the same catalyst for Oliver's parents, Ross, Mary and Nathaniel, and Nathaniel's family to want to move onto John’s property. I wonder if Anna knows? 

Most of John's children didn't know about the books and I am almost certain they don't know about whatever their father has been showing people. I wonder if you need to wait until a certain age to be shown it. Maybe I need to ask them…

I stop digging when I notice the sound of a large truck coming down the road. They weren't expecting any visitors, all three of John's friend's families and the newcomers are here. My confusion quickly disappears as three large trucks haul in three mobile homes - two large and one, slightly smaller.

I watch John appear from inside the construction site and greet the first truck driver. He pulls out a large folded paper and reviews it with the person. I notice John point towards his home and then again over to the new construction. I grip my shovel and shallowly push it into the dirt, too distracted by the new homes. One of the trucks parks beside John’s home. It stops and backs up as if to line the building up with the pipes Oliver’s brothers laid done a few days ago. The other two trucks stop a few metres away from the church.

Oliver’s brothers meet up with John and the truck drivers. The houses are disconnected from the trailer’s attachment and left overnight while John has us stop what we are doing and begin to dig a crawl space for the new homes. We don’t dig too deep and have to be cautious around the sewer pipes and electrical wires. We create short foundational walls by pouring cement and with the remainder we use to place a few wooden poles in the centre. By the time we do this three times, it is well after dusk. 

I enter the main house completely exhausted and dizzy from barely eating all day. I wash my face and join the family downstairs. There are a few more chairs than normal around the table: three for the new members and two for Ross and his wife. Oliver and his entire family decided to have dinner at their home while Mary and her new husband welcomed his family. 

Ross sits next to me and even though I’m too tired to pay attention to him, the hair on my forearms raise up. Anna places a bowl of soup in front of me and I pick up the spoon without thinking.

“Joshua.” John warns. I tiredly look up at him and see a strange glint in his eye underneath the annoyance I seemed to cause. I place my spoon back down and he smiles. It suddenly feels a lot colder in this house. 

My gaze travels along the table and lands on a bandaged hand. Ross’ wife’s mangled hand only stays on the table for a moment before she pulls it back under. I see him grab her hand gently - if that was at all possible - and whispers something in her ear. I try not to pay attention too much. Either Ross notices me staring or John does. Either situation will not be pleasant. I return my tired eyes back to the soup. It looks like some sort of vegetable soup. Small diced potatoes and chopped carrots bob around the creamy white sauce. I’ve come to hate creamy soups.

Everyone settles down and a prayer is said. It’s a little different than what John usually says, but at least the meaning behind it is similar. The name Nova is mentioned once and then the prayer is over. Whatever Nova is.

I pick up my spoon and slowly dip it into the broth. I’m about to take a sip when something touches my leg. I jump up and my thigh hits the table so loud that all the bowls on the table clatter. Everyone stops their conversation and stares at me. The thing on my leg doesn’t move and I look up at John. He’s staring at me like everyone else is but he’s knowingly rubbing my knee. 

I put my spoon back down into the soup, hands shaking, “S-sorry. I was hungry and the soup was still too hot…”

The chatter continues and even a few of John’s children laugh at how silly it sounds. I struggle picking up the spoon again. John is somehow having a conversation with Anna, his wife, and continuing to touch me as if this is all normal. He moves his hand off my thigh and I begin to eat. He wouldn’t do anything while those two men are staying with me...right?

Sherry removes my bowl and Rachel replaces it with more food. I again feel the lingering touch of a person but this time it comes from my right. I let a small shaky breath go, trying anything to hold myself together. This is the first time that Ross touched me since the time in the barn. I thought that he’d forgotten about me, moved on, or found a second wife like he threatened his wife with. 

His hand slowly massages my knee and sneaks up to my inner thigh. I can feel a cold sweat break out at the base of my neck. Ross continues his conversation with one of the new members. The man’s rusted voice does not stutter and the conversation continues on without any suspicion. 

Those fingers slip higher and higher, until they’re just a hair away from the seam of my pant’s zipper. Ross’ putrid body odour rises from his arm and encases the space around me. My vision blurs and the room around my spins. Why is this happening now?

I blink twice and desperately think of something quickly. I’m not sure why, but I look directly at John. My eyes pleading him to do something, anything. Anna left the table to get the next part of our meal and as soon as that happens John’s gaze locks with mine. At first, I’m not sure if his glaring eyes were meant for me. Those cold, blue eyes stare at me until Ross moves his hand yet again and grabs and fondles me uncomfortably. I inaudibly gasp, parting my lips just enough not to attract much more attention. 

I shut my eyes and bow my head. Not here. Not now. 

I feel a sudden sickness build in my stomach. Dark clouds swarm the room, moving in and out of the space in front of me. The chatter within the room dies down, and I know it isn’t that they’ve all stopped talking, it’s because I can’t hear them anymore. 

“Ross.” the hand pulls away quickly. The dinner plate in front of me finally comes back into focus. The sound of company returns. My heart is still beating loudly in my ears and the cold sweat drips down my face. John is at my side, “Excuse the boy, he doesn’t appear to be feeling well. I’m going to bring him upstairs to lay down.”

The words that come out of his mouth sound sincere, but I hear the sharpness underneath.

Don’t touch what’s mine.  

Chapter Text

I don’t really remember much else that happened after that night. Once John helped me up onto my feet, I barely registered going up all four flights of stairs. I don’t think I even walked at all. It is possible that John carried me up the entire way. I’m sure people stared at me as I was being taken away, but it’s all too much of a blur. I only remember John kissing me on the forehead, tucking me into the bed, and softly, but angrily whispering, “He was touching you, wasn’t he?”

I couldn’t look at him, but I guess my silence was enough of an answer for him. 

“I did not give that bastard permission.” John pets my head, “If he ever does that again and I’m not around: tell me immediately.”

For a brief moment I feel safe, that is, until John kisses me on the lips. The horror of who this man is came crashing back down and I think I passed out after that. 

By the time morning rolls around, I feel uncontrollably hungry. I rise before any of my new roommates wake up and make my way downstairs. I make myself oatmeal and eat quietly by myself. I leave the house almost immediately and begin my chores out of routine. It’s very early in the morning I’m sure, but I want to get rid of the lingering feeling that something horrible is about to happen. 

The sun barely peaks out when I begin chopping wood. It isn’t the best activity to do first thing in the morning, the day after you faint, but I’ll do anything to get the thought out of my head. I place another round log onto the chop block and raise the axe above my head. I slam it down as hard as I can and the log splits into two pieces. I repeat, again and again. 

I stack the wood in the deck and begin feeding the animals. It's a little bit early for them, but it's ok. Anna should be up now and making breakfast.

I wipe my brow and look at Oliver's house. The lights have come on and it looks like everyone's beginning their day. I wonder how Oliver is dealing with this. It doesn't seem he really has anyone to talk to. Even his brother's don't seem to take much interest in him anymore - from what I can tell when we're out on the site digging. I remember that they'd always playfully tease him, but now that's completely vacant. 

I wish I could talk to him. I want to tell him everything is going to be okay. I want to remove the guilt he has about not being able to help me during our time in the basement. I want to be there when he wakes up from his nightmares. 

I sigh, feeling the pressure in my chest lift momentarily. I hope Oliver can last a few more months, heck, I hope I can too. 

I return to the kitchen and sit down in my usual spot. John isn't present quite yet. Rachel shoots me a worried look from across the table. Her eyes shift to the staircase and back over her shoulder to Anna. She clears her throat gently, "Josh, are you feeling better?"

Her voice comes out so quietly, I can barely hear her. The screaming toddlers at the table almost overtake her soft voice. 

"Y-yeah." I lower my head into my folded arms. 

"Are you still feeling unwell?" Anna places a hand on my shoulder and I shoot up unnerved. 

My skin crawls and my hands begin to tremor. 

"I'm just…tired." I fold my hands under the table. 

"That's too bad dear. " Anna smiles warmly, "And you chopped the wood!”

I try to return the smile, "The animals are all fed too."

"Really?!" Anna smiles, "How wonderful."

"What is?" The man's voice sends shivers down my spine. My head turns before I know what's happening. John passes behind me, kisses Anna while his hand sneaks around the other side of his wife and simultaneously strokes the hair on the back of my head. 

"Josh did all the morning chores by himself." She beams, returning to the stove. She pulls out freshly baked bread. 

"Is that so…?" John smiles at me, something twinkling in his eyes. 

The rest of the morning goes without incident. I am assigned to helping Oliver's brother put up insulation while John, Nathaniel, Ross, and Charles move the newly arrived log cabins onto the foundation. John rented a large machine that I've never seen before. The large mechanical arm helps hoist up the home into the air, while John and his followers guide the structure onto the foundation. I don't get to see the rest of the project as Oliver's brother needs help.

The cold autumn wind winds its way through the open building. Oliver’s brother Henry doesn’t say much as he and I push the pink insulation into the framework. We’ve made progress but there’s so much more to do. I’m still trying to figure out what exactly this building is for. It’s large, but not as big as the church in town. There are two floors. On the main floor a huge open room with giant, plain windows. There are four rooms at the very front. One with a window that looks into the larger room and the second hidden across from the main entrance. The remaining two are bathrooms with a single toilet in each. There’s a staircase that goes upstairs, but I haven’t been up there yet. 

“I have to get some more nails.” Henry announces before taking off. I continue to load up the insulation and begin to feel excited for bedtime. This is just as hard as daily chores, if not more so. I adjust the mask on my face, making sure to keep it aligned to my skin so that the thin particles don’t get into my airway. 

As I load the final piece of insulation into the wooden frame, I notice that Henry isn’t back yet. Well, maybe I can take a break and get some fresh air. Before I leave though, the dark stairs leading to the second floor peaks my interest. It’s not as though no one said I could go up there…right? Besides, it isn’t as though the second floor won’t be insulated, so might as well take a peak. 

I take a hold of the handmade bannister and slowly make my way up the extremely steep stairs. I can’t help but wonder how safe they are. The elderly probably should steer clear from these stairs. As I reach the top, the second floor is pretty much as I expected it. A single large room containing a single round window. The light barely shines into the space but thankfully there’s some electricity here. 

I flip on the switch and notice there’s quite a bit of flooring that’s been completed already. Someone has already come up here and insulated and completed the walls, except for paint of course. The floors are treated and polished, but it’s still quite dirty. 

I’m about to leave when I notice something scribbled on the wall opposite to the staircase. Curiously I approach the pencil markings and notice that same symbol as the books etched into the wall, just underneath the window. I don’t know why, but this room makes me feel uncomfortable. 

“Room’s almost ready.” that voice sends a shiver down my spine.

“It’s…” nice? Beautiful? Well crafted? Creepy? “Coming along.”

John stares at me, holding a broom and pan. Even from this distance I can see that his pupils are larger than usual. My body sets off a series of warnings. He signals for me to come closer and against every protesting fibre of my body, I listen.

“Henry will finish up down there, why don’t you start cleaning up here.” it isn’t a question. 

I take the broom from his hand and step back, “Yes sir.”

“Good.” he smiles. I proceed to the very far corner of the hall and start to sweep. I don’t hear his footsteps go back down the stairs though, quite the contrary, they come towards me. 

I stop, “Is there something else?”

“Yeah, you forgot to take this.” he hands me the dustpan. His eyes slowly scan me and I can almost physically feel it. Out of the corner of my eye I watch him wet his lips before announcing his leave. I stand frozen in place until I finally hear his boots tap the wooden floorboards of the main room. I sink to my knees. My whole body is shaking. I thought…

The rest of the day I sweep the floors, both top and bottom until absolutely no dust or debris can be found. Henry pokes fun at me, telling me that I’ll just need to sweep again tomorrow when he finishes putting up the walls. Maybe, but I’m not going to say no to John and risk my safety. 

That night John invites everyone on the property in for a meal. Unlike the last few nights, I don’t have to sit next to John and instead, somehow, I’m permitted to sit beside Oliver who is also seated next to Rachel. Oliver is quiet though and I don’t dare make any conversation with him. John watches both of us like a hawk, even if he’s deep into a conversation, I can feel him keeping a close eye on me. 

Halfway through dinner, John stands up, “Thank you all for all of your hard work. We’ve made tremendous progress. We should have a number of buildings finished before the first snow.”

All of the adults clap and cheer.

“I have a couple of announcements. First, I would like to announce that both my lovely wife Anna and my beautiful daughter Mary are expecting.”

Instead of feeling completely overjoyed and happy, I feel horrified. Does that mean…that Anna won’t be available for nine months and then I will…my thoughts are cut off by a round of applause. 

“Second, if you haven’t heard, my daughter has been engaged to Oliver Hunter. After a lot of discussion, Samuel and I have decided to proceed with their marriage during the winter celebration.” my eyes lock onto John. He’s looking in the general direction of the ‘couple’ but his eyes are strictly on me. I feel sick now. No, he can’t do this. He can’t. 

John pulls something out from his pocket and walks over to Rachel and Oliver. I can’t read the emotions on Oliver’s face but it’s definitely not happiness. John leans down in between them and in a voice almost too quiet for me to hear, he demands, “Smile.”

He places whatever was in his pocket into Oliver’s hand. John commands, “Why don’t you put it on her finger?”

Oliver opens his hands to see a simple gold band with a small diamond. He glances over at me, but only for a split second, before reaching out to Rachel. She immediately gives him her hand and the band is placed on her left ring finger. Rachel forces a smile but can’t look Oliver in the face, instead she stares down at the gold ring. The room erupts into a cheer and John finally takes his place back at the head of the table. 

Then, I feel something squeeze my knee. As discreetly as I can, I look down to see Oliver’s white knuckled hand clenching my leg. John is shaking someone’s hand as celebratory phrases are offered to the proud parents. I grab Oliver’s hand, giving it a small squeeze. I hear Oliver exhale and knowing that we don’t have much time, he pulls his hand away. 

Anna and Mary bring out beer after beer for the men at the table. Shirley and Rachel are asked to take the empty plates and replace them with a dessert that Anna baked for this very day. Shirley places a piece of lemon meringue pie in front of me. There’s two round scoops of vanilla ice cream placed to one side. Before I pick up my spoon, Shirley places a drink beside my dessert. 

“Um, Shirley what’s…” but she’s gone, grabbing more plates for the other guests. The drink is dark but carbonated to some degree. I pick it up, smelling it. It doesn’t seem alcoholic. I take a sip. It’s sweet and it just tastes like soda. Maybe it’s just a reward for all of the hard work I did today. 

After dinner Anna takes the younger ones to bed and the rest of us are dismissed. Everyone except for Oliver and myself. The women volunteers and wives retire to their newly built homes for the rest of the night while the men remain. After a couple of beers, all of Oliver’s brothers retire for the night too. We sit awkwardly as the remaining men begin to play cards and laugh amongst themselves. Before Anna retires, she places another glass of soda in front of Oliver and I. “Be good you two.”

Oliver stares at the top of the tablecloth, unsure why he’s still here. I sip at my drink until it’s nearly empty while he doesn’t seem to watch to touch his. Something begins to feel off…I feel a bit hot.

“Oliver, drink yer soda.” his father calls. Oliver nods and begins sipping the beverage. 

That’s when I realise that there’s something in these drinks. I stand up and push over his drink. The dark cola spills all over the white tablecloth. Oliver jolts up, grabbing a napkin and immediately tries to clean up the mess. 

“What the hell?” Furiously, John stands up and makes his way over.

“S-sorry, it was an accident.” except John knows that it isn’t. He knows that I know. 

“Accident hm?” He pauses and then disappears into the kitchen. I hear the sound of glass clinking and sure enough, he brings out another glass. He places it in front of Oliver, on top of the spilt mess, “Drink up Oliver.”

Oliver gulps, unsure what had just happened and while I had spilt the drink in the first place. He shakily grabs the glass and brings it to his lips. As he’s told, he drinks the entire glass slowly and places it back down onto the table. John places a hand on my head, ruffling my hair. When I look back at Oliver, I begin to feel it. A warm feeling spreads through every inch of my body. 

“Spiked.” I whisper.

John leans down, his hot breath tickling my ear, “Moondust.” 

Against all better judgement, I turn to Oliver. He looks terrified. The room appears to have gone quiet as they watch both of our reactions. Somehow, I don’t care if they’re watching us. My body is beginning to throb, my pants are uncomfortably tight, and I want…

I want…

I want Oliver so badly.

I find myself reaching out to him, trying to lean forward and kiss him but John pulls me back. I breathlessly whine, watching the blond’s face become clammy. 

“Oliver, how are you doing?” John asks with a peaked sense of interest.

He swallows before answering, “I’m r-really hot.”

“...and?” John pries, “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m feeling randy.” Oliver says, turning towards me. His eyes look greener than normal and I feel myself drawn to him again. 

John takes my wrist and places my palm on Oliver’s stomach. I can feel his abs tighten under his clothing.

“Do you want him to touch you?” John asks, intentionally brushing his stomach gently using my hand. 

Oliver bites his lip and nods. 

“Well then, go ahead.” John releases my wrist and steps back. I feel my body react before I can even try to control myself. I grab Oliver by the face and begin kissing him desperately. His hands find their way into my hair, tugging and twisting. His tongue slides into my mouth and I can’t get over how sweet he tastes. A few glorious moments into our makeout session, John and Samuel pull us apart. 

“Do you think it’ll work?” Samuel asks, voice gritty and disgusted. 

“It will.” John walks away, “They won’t be able to control themselves.”

It’s true. I feel dizzy with desire. I feel like I can bust at any moment. I don’t even care that there’s men watching us make out. I can’t feel shame. I can’t stop. 

I bite his lip and climb onto the chair with him. He grinds his hips up and onto mine. I feel someone hook their arms around mine from underneath my armpits and pull me away from Oliver. My dick throbs so badly and a whine, “No, let me go…I need…Oliver…”

“Let’s get you downstairs first.” I hear Ross whisper in my ear. I struggle, no, I don’t want to go down there. I want to be with Oliver. My legs become jelly when Ross tries to guide me to the basement, “Don’t worry, Oliver is comin’ down too. You can continue down there you sick fuck.”

I find the strength to stand again and dizzily walk down alongside Ross. He catches me from falling on more than one occasion. I hear Oliver panting heavily behind me. I swear, I can smell him: A sweet cinnamon smell. My dick twitches again, it’s so uncomfortable. I need to get my pants off right now but Ross doesn’t let me. He forces me down the second set of the stairs until we finally arrive in the sub basement. There’s a dirty mattress on one end of the room. I flop down on it and not too long after, Oliver falls down next to me. 

My entire being aches for release. He grabs me by the face and starts to kiss me even deeper than before. He wraps his leg around my hip and draws me closer while I begin unbuttoning his shirt. His chest is so warm. I brush my hands over his chest and nipples. He pulls back, gasping for air, and then proceeds to unbutton my shirt as well. 

“This is the boy who is supposed to be engaged to that other girl?” one of the volunteers asks, “He’s nothing but a faggot. How’d they even have a child? Why torture the girl?”

“You’ll see…” Oliver’s father responds. I want to ask what the hell is going on but I literally can’t take my hands off of Oliver. The more we touch, the worse the carnal desire becomes. Oliver stops the foreplay and grabs me by the dick. I can’t help the moan that escapes from my mouth. I buck my hips, trying to feel more. Oliver’s fingers stroke me through my jeans while I fiddle with his belt. 

“Oliver…” I moan, kissing him again. He reaches for my belt. I open the front of his jeans and shimmy his pants down. I palm his dick and he calls my name softly. He’s so hard. I can feel a wet spot on the front of his pants. I find the opening to his underwear and pull his dick through. He hurries up and does the same. 

Behind me, I almost barely recognize the sound of a muffled scream. It sounds female. I can’t turn to look though. I have something more important to attend to. Oliver grabs my lower back and presses our sexes together. I try to kick off my jeans, but someone else pulls them off for me. I hear the tapping of boots all around me along with that same muffled, female voice coming closer and closer. 

Oliver wraps his hands around both of our cocks and begins pumping them aggressively. He presses his face into my neck, biting down hard. It only makes me feel even better. I can’t help but kiss him again. 

“I wanna suck you off.” I say breathlessly. 

“Me too.” he responds, spinning me around. In a moment his entire mouth wraps around the heat. I grab a hold of him and open my mouth, wrapping it all around his dick. 

Someone stands over me but I ignore them. Oliver’s mouth accommodates me even as I begin to thrust in and out of his mouth. The dirtiest, sickest sounds come out from behind me. His mouth squeezes and milks my dick but I still can’t come. I bob my head up and down, trying to reciprocate the effort when suddenly Oliver pulls back and begins licking my asshole. I stop the blowjob and moan into his thigh. His tongue slowly slides in and out of me. 

Ross grabs my face and guides me away from Oliver’s dick. He pulls down his own jeans and begins pumping his own dick until it’s nice and hard. I’m about to call out for John out of sheer confusion when Ross grabs me by the hair and shoves his cock in my mouth. Oliver’s tongue prodding me from the balls and then back inside of me prevents me from fighting the older man. 

That’s when I see someone guide Rachel towards us. Her face is stricken with tears and her mouth filled with a thick sock. The person holding her hikes up her long evening gown and pulls down her underwear. She cries out weakly as they pick her up. Another man picks up Oliver’s dick and together the two volunteers guide Rachel onto it. She shrieks from the sudden intrusion and the lack of any preparation. No, no, this can’t be happening. I want Oliver. I want to be his-

Oliver takes my dick back into his mouth and presses a finger slowly inside of me. I’m not sure how he doesn’t know that I’m not the one he’s inside but he clearly isn’t aware. I slobber all over Ross’ monster cock. He thrusts himself in and out of my mouth so roughly that my jaw is beginning to tighten uncomfortably. 

The man holding Rachel begins to pull her up and down as if I’m still blowing Oliver. I hear him moan from underneath me. I want to warn him, I want to tell him what’s going on but I can’t break away. Oliver adds another finger carefully and begins to stretch me from the inside. From time to time, I feel a spark of something so pleasurable that I wish he continues to stroke that spot. 

I feel Oliver pull his mouth off of me and in a horrifying few words he says, “Josh I’m gonna-”

No…please Oliver don’t. 

I watch as his hips buck into Rachel and the man holding onto her presses her down into Oliver’s hips. He swears and arches his lower back, spilling his cum inside the girl. She looks absolutely miserable, staring at the opposite side of the basement floor, away from me and Ross. Tears drip down her face and onto my arm. As Oliver catches his breath, the man keeps Rachel there. 

Then I feel Oliver’s mouth on me again, moving his fingers inside. Rachel is finally removed and white semen falls out of her and back onto Oliver’s naval. Ross roughly yanks me off of Oliver and begins fucking my face, cumming almost immediately. As he pulls away I vomit. 

“What the…?!” Oliver shouts, voice breaking. I look up from my haze to see his pale face staring at Rachel. One of the men is putting her underwear back on but it’s obvious that something is dripping down her leg. He shakes his head, voice screaming, “Why?! Why would you do this to us?!” 

John grabs his daughter by the arm and pulls her away. Cum drips onto the floor as he leads her back up the stairs. Ross releases me from his grip and approaches Oliver. His entire body is still sweaty from the drug, but he appears a bit more coherent than I’m feeling. My body still aches with want. Ross and the man who held Rachel dress him as quickly as possible and lift him to his feet. They literally drag him away as he begins to sob. Oliver’s father follows closely behind. 

“Oliver…” I stumble to my hands and knees, but by the time I can, Oliver has disappeared into the staircase. I crawl, nearly naked across the room as the remaining men watch me. One of them lights a cigar, watching me as if I’m entertainment. 

“Damn, that was pretty hot.” one of them comments, “Do you think that really made her pregnant?”

Pregnant? No. Please God no…

“It better have. It’s the whole reason why they’d be able to marry legally at a young age.” the man with the cigar comments, “Can’t have the king be suspicious of John after all, it’ll ruin everything. That’s why he wants to do everything within the law.”

Everything within the law? Jon drugged us. Rachel had sex against her will. I collapse onto the floor, the cool cement feels good against my hot skin. 

“He looks miserable.” 

“It doesn’t wear off until you come huh?”

“Nah, it still fucks with you for a few hours, just not as bad after you orgasm.” 

Someone comes down the stairs. I raise my head to see John with a smirk plastered on his face. “Y’all have a good night. I’ll take care of him.”

The men leave me alone with the monster. He leans down with a wet cloth, cleaning my face. 

“Such a good boy.” He says softly, the grin never leaving his face, “Didn't even fight Ross.”

“You let him…”

“I'm not going to be involved in the procreation of my next grandchild.” John tucks the cloth in his back pocket, “Someone had to keep your mouth occupied.” 

“Why are you punishing me?” My voice breaks, “I didn't do anything wrong.”

“I had to make sure that Oliver doesn't give you any ideas. When he's a father, his priorities will change and you will be the last thing on his mind.” He knows how much it hurts to hear that. He's just rubbing salt in the wound now. 

“He hasn't even talked to me since our punishment!” I lie.

His grin widens, “Really? What about during the festival?”

How did he know that? 

“I have eyes and ears everywhere.” He picks me up like I'm a ragdoll, “Don't you ever forget that Joshua.”

He drags me over to the bed and throws me down, “Get dressed.”

The movement from the floor to the mattress reminds me of the drug coursing through my veins. My body begins to throb again. “No…no…not now.” 

“Hm?” John stands at my feet, “What's the hold up?”

I know that he can see it. How hard I am. How flush my skin must be. Somehow, without Oliver here, I can think just a little more clearly but my body is still in what I can equate to an animal's heat. 

“ I can't…” I reach around for my underwear but it's not within arm's reach. It's a few feet behind John. I return to my hands and knees and crawl towards the discarded clothing. A ripple of desire courses through my body when my hand touches some of Oliver's semen. I can't control it. I fall face first and lick the mattress. 

“Heh, that'll be your final taste of him.” John tugs me up by the hair. I know that he'll probably yell at me but I cry anyway. I keep my voice down but allow tears to stream down my face. John bends down and grabs my underwear and jeans, “Put them on.”

My arms and feet don't work properly. Simply putting one leg into one of the pants legs feels impossible. When I finally do get one leg in, the heat that builds after feels like my leg is cooking. It takes even longer for my second leg in and when it finally is inside my pants, my cock hurts so badly. I try to zip up my jeans but can't seem to hold the zipper tab. 

I glance up at John. He's enjoying every minute of my suffering . Why, why me? It's like he wants me to ask him for help, but there's no damn way I'm going to ask him to assault me…

He drags me to my feet. My pants fall down around my ankles. I trip and fall onto my knees hard. Pain shoots up my legs and I cry out. With annoyance plastered all over his face, he forces me up and dresses me, tightening the belt around my waist. “Yer so useless right now boy.”

I’m forced to walk upstairs. Each step fuels the heat in my body and by the time I get to the main floor, I am so close to asking John for help. It’s so painful. I want to come so badly. The friction from my pants isn’t enough to let me orgasm. 

With the next set of stairs before me, John covers my mouth with one hand and leads me upwards. The touch sends vibrations through every inch of my skin but I try as hard as I can to ignore it. I just need to go to the attic and then I can relieve myself. Only a little bit longer. 

On the way up to the third floor, John rubs my back. I bit my tongue, trying to hold back a moan. I don’t want him to think that I’m feeling aroused by his touch and I don’t want to be punished by him. I focus all of my energy on climbing the stairs, one by one. 

By the time I reach the attic ladder, I’m drenched in sweat. 

I look up into the dark space and remind myself that I’m almost there. I’ll finally feel relief. I take a hold of the first ladder rung and lift my foot off of the floor. John covers my face again and grabs at my ass, “Shh, better not wake anyone up.”

He lets go and watches me slump. Fortunately, my grip holds me and I slowly make my way up to my room. The other men are no longer there. Privacy, finally!

The sound of footsteps behind me says otherwise. 

John grabs me by the throat and pushes me onto the bed, “Stubborn lil’ brat.”

I feel dizzy, every nerve in my body begging for me to ask John to make me climax in any way he can to make it happen. I can’t. It’s not like it’s Oliver - maybe that’s why I have the slightest bit of self control?

“Go ahead.” John loosens his grip slightly, “Touch yourself.”

John stares down at me, a small smile still painted on his face. He’s been loving every second of this. While I don’t want to pleasure myself in front of him, I’d rather do it than him so I find the coordination to unbuckle my belt and pull down my pants. He slides my pants off for me and then says, “Finger yourself.”

I try to ignore him and reach for my dick, but in that moment he grabs me tightly at its base and squeezes, “Do it. Now .”

I jack off anyways, trying to come quickly but something is wrong. I can’t quite get there. I try to stroke myself faster but it doesn’t matter. 

“Joshua.” John warns and without another thought, I wet a finger in my mouth. John kisses the top of my head the moment I press a finger inside of me. I have to finish right away, then maybe John will leave me alone. It feels weird though. When Oliver did it, it felt so natural and much, much better. When I do it, it just feels invasive. 

John slowly releases his grip and strokes his hand over my balls. Somehow that makes everything feel so much better and I add a second finger inside of me. I close my eyes and think of Oliver. How he tried to prepare me by moving his fingers in all directions and stroking in a spot towards my pelvis. I imitate his movements and suddenly feel the same spark I felt in the basement. 

“Ah-!” John covers my mouth, shushing me again. How can I be quiet though? He’s beginning to stroke me gently! I reach in deeper, pressing against the same spot inside of me over and over again. John moves his large hand up and down, faster and faster. I try to match his rhythm, feeling closer every second that passes by. 

My toes dig into the mattress and before I know it, my back arches and I come. John presses his hand flush against my mouth. I moan into the skin, until I finally come down from my high. Semen leaks all over my blankets. John leans over with the rag he had in his back pocket and cleans me and my bed. He tosses it somewhere in the room and wraps his arms around me. 

I can feel the drug still in my system - just like those men said I would. My skin feels hot but the ache for physical attention isn’t as strong anymore. With my mind clearer, I can’t help but let the tears well up in my eyes. John did it. He severed our relationship without physically getting rid of Oliver. John doesn’t say anything when I begin to cry. He just leaves me alone in the room to wallow in my misery. 

Chapter Text

Rachel isn’t at the table the morning after and the morning after that. I don’t see her for a long time. I notice her absence but when I ask Anna about it, she doesn’t really give me an answer. I know that they’re monitoring her. I don’t want her to be pregnant but a part of me wants to know the truth so that I can stop hoping that Oliver won’t be a father. 

Two weeks go by. We finish off the main building and begin working on a couple new homes. I’m still not sure what the main building is for. John hasn’t brought in any furniture yet so it remains empty. 

Ross and Charles should have their new homes constructed before the winter fully sets in. The thought of Ross being my neighbour terrifies me, but until Ross actually tries to do anything without John’s permission, Ross will continue to be his right hand man. 

I feel numb doing all the physical labour around the farm. I feel the same way when we do any construction. At night, though, I feel emotionally overwhelmed. I can’t keep the window shutters open because if I see Oliver, I break down immediately. I cry myself to sleep and wake up from nightmares from that night. It was horrifying - how out of control we were. I couldn’t stop myself from kissing and touching Oliver. That drug is so powerful and dangerous. Every meal I ask for water. I don’t know if that drug colours the drink it’s placed in, but I’m not taking any chances.  

I drag myself out of bed again. A pipe from the downstairs fireplace runs through my attic room and keeps it toasty. Fall is just about finished and it’ll begin snowing any day now. I’m dreading the snow. 

“Good mornin’ Josh!” Shirley says cheerfully. I try my best to greet her but can’t exactly find the words to keep the conversation going. She doesn’t seem to mind though. Connor and Isabelle keep her hands full while Mary prepares breakfast. 

I stare at the table cloth. The little embroidered flowers follow the edge of the table. Blue, purple, and green make up the tiny little flowers. I trace my hand through the needlework. 

“Eat up Josh.” Mary places a bowl of porridge in front of me. I snap out of my trance and do my best to eat the disgusting slop in front of me. It doesn’t taste particularly bad, Mary’s a fantastic cook - it’s just that it reminds me of…

In the blink of an eye I’m outside. The cold air is nipping at my skin. I feed the cows and horses. Molly nudges me but I don’t respond to her. I simply pick up the feeding bucket and return to the barn. There are still a lot of wheat bundles left over from the harvest from a few weeks ago. I barely remember even doing the harvest now. One by one, I stack as many bundles as I can into my arms and make my way over to the mill. We sold most of the wheat but the leftovers Anna will use to make bread and pastries. 

It’s a little warmer inside the mill. The machine turning from the river’s current slightly heats up the place. I sit down on a bench and separate the grain from the plant. It’s been drying out for a while now so the editable part falls right off the plant and into a bucket. I sit there for hours, not even aware that I missed lunch until my hands feel numb. 

I take the nearly full bucket and pour its entire contents into the machine. It shouldn’t take too long for it to crush the grains down to a powder. I’ll come get the flour after supper and give it to Anna before bed. 

By the time I return to the house, I smell a hearty meal being prepared by Anna. I go to my isolated room in the attic and change for dinner. 

“Josh, you missed lunch.” Anna commented, “You must be starving.”

“I forgot. I’m sorry.” She places a piece of buttered bread in front of me. 

“Forgot?” Anna wipes her hands on her apron, “Funny thing to forget.”

“I was focused on threshing the leftover wheat.” I say. My voice sounds so emotionless. 

“Oh!” Anna smiles, “I’m glad someone is taking care of that. Is there a lot left?”

“A few more bundles.” I mutter before taking a bite out of the fresh bread. 

“Thank you for doing that Josh.” Anna chimes. I don’t feel anything when she praises me. 

But I do when Rachel finally joins us at the table. She looks so much different than her did a few weeks ago. In fact, she looks a lot more vibrant than she has since she went down to the basement. She’s wearing makeup and she’s wearing jewellery in her hair. The only part of her that looks off is her eyes. They look…sad.

She doesn’t dare look up at me but I stare at her. I want to know. Is Oliver a father? Is she really pregnant? 

The front door slams shut and I hear voices in the entryway. Ross, John, and a few workers talk among themself loudly. As they pile into the room for dinner, I feel John’s hand ruffle my hair before he gives Anna a kiss. I know it’s him because he’s been doing it every day since the Moondust incident. 

Someone sits beside me and I do everything in my power not to tear up. I dig my nails into my knees hard. Why is he here today? What is John planning today?

Dinner is served without any explanation. A thick, meaty stew is placed in front of me and I notice that Rachel isn’t doing the serving as usual. 

I know even before John confirms it, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

“Rachel honey.” John says firmly but lovingly, “Please make sure that you eat. You’re eating for two now.”

I grip the spoon so hard that the metal digs into my finger’s joints. I knew it. I just didn’t want to accept it. I feel dizzy from anxiety but try to focus on the small little flowers on the tablecloth. I need to numb myself. If I make a scene in front of everyone, I know that John will punish me. I don’t want to be fucked by him again. 

“Oliver, go sit by your fiance.” his father instructs. Without any hesitation, Oliver stands up  and circles to the other side of the table. I see him out of the corner of my eye but I choose not to look at him. If I do, I’ll fall apart. 

I slowly begin to eat my food, the hot soup burning my lips, tongue, and throat. I don’t bother trying to cool it down. I can’t feel the pain anyways. John and his volunteers chatter amongst themselves while drinking their evening pint. John offers one to me several times, but I refuse. Eventually, Anna leaves one in front of my bowl. 

“Can I be excused-”

“No.” John cuts me off. He returns to his conversation as if he wasn’t interrupted at all. I finish eating and push the empty plate away. I stare at the glass mug in front of me. The wheat beer shines from the lights above. Small bubbles slowly rise to reach the foam at the top. Maybe it’ll make me feel better. 

No. I pull my hand back. Last time I drank, John took advantage of my vulnerability. I didn’t have control over my body just as much as a few weeks ago when he gave me Moondust. I can’t make that mistake again. 

I sit there awkwardly while the rest of the table eats. How much longer do I have to sit here until I can go to my room? I want to go to bed and pretend none of this is real.

“Rachel, have you and Oliver thought of any names yet?” Anna’s cheerful question sends me over the edge. I slide my chair back roughly - its legs scraping across the floor loudly. I didn’t mean to slam my hands on the table when I got up but they did anyway. 

“I’m going to the washroom.” I say, emotion beginning to bubble up. 

“No, sit down boy.” John says firmly. “ Now .”

I shake my head, “No.”

“What did you say?” I hear it. He isn’t angry. The tone in his voice is saying ‘go ahead, disobey me, it’ll give me an excuse to punish you’. My entire body begins to shake and although I’m torn between receiving the emotional or the physical torture, I ultimately accept for former. I desperately try to blink away the tears in my eyes. 

I stop trying to think and grab the beer. It’s warm but it doesn’t matter. I drink half of it without even blinking an eye and then glance over at John. His cold, blue eyes catch mine and he smiles. I finish the drink and Anna brings over another beer. Until I feel a little bit of calmness, I don’t stop. I’m not drunk but I’m a little more than tipsy. 

“Rachel, we’ll be going out with Mary to buy you a dress tomorrow.” Anna says, “Pick out whatever you’d like.”

“Okay Mama.” Rachel replies. As I expect, she is heartbroken. She wanted to be married to someone who could love her back. At least that’s something that we share.

“Oliver, why don’t you come with us? Your brother can help you get fitted for a suit.” Anna isn’t asking.

“Yes Ma’am.” his voice nearly breaks me. 

“Oh dear, please don’t call me that. You can call me Anna or Mom - whatever feels most comfortable to you.” At this moment, and I don’t know why, but I feel like even more of an outsider than usual. Everyone is making plans for a wedding that shouldn't be happening and I’m clearly not a part of it. 

“Rachel, can I be your flower girl?” Sophie jumps up and down in her chair. The calmer of the two twins, Olivia, tugs her sleeve, urging her to sit down. 

“Of course you can.” Anna says, “Rachel, who would you like to carry the rings?”

Before Rachel can answer, a truck horn honks. John and his volunteers immediately rise to his feet, “Looks like the shipment is here.”

I almost expect him to ask me to help out but they leave rather quickly. I keep my eyes trained on my ale until they leave. Anna and Shirley begin to clean up some of the plates. I sit awkwardly at the table with the rest of the children, Rachel, and Oliver. When I finally finish my beer, I ask again if I can leave.

“Josh, before you do, can you pick up the flour you put in the mill earlier today?”

I try my hardest to ignore Oliver’s eyes that glue to me the moment I stand. I can’t afford to stare at him. I’ll break down, I know it. I hurry and put on my coat and boots and leave the house. I take a seat on the wooden swinging chair on the veranda and put my face into my hands. 

“Josh, you forgot to take the bucket.” Anna calls, dropping a metal bucket on the desk outside the door. I can break down later. Not where everyone can see me. I pick up the squeaking handle and the tin exterior rattles. 

The men finish unloading whatever was in the truck that arrived earlier. A large, hooded  trailer is hooked up to it. It’s got to be at least fifty feet in length. Two men carry what looks to be some kind of long bench. The rest of the volunteers are nowhere to be seen. They disappear into the main building’s open doors. I wonder what John bought to have required such a huge shipment trailer. 

I wait a couple of minutes next to the horse pen, waiting for the men to emerge from the building, but they don’t. I step closer and closer, keeping close to the horses just in case someone comes out of the building. After fifteen minutes, I decide to walk up to the building. Beside the entrance, I place the bucket down carefully. 

The lighting from the first floor is on, but no one is there. I see the benches now. There are simple, two plank wooded backrests and cushioned seats on each of them. They line the main room in rows. I can count ten - one one each side. The front of the room still looks empty.

But I know what this is. I first thought maybe that it could be a hall - for dances and celebrations. No. It’s not like that at all.

This is a church.

No one here is qualified to lead religious sermons unless one of the church leaders is also moving out here? No, that can’t be it. John has announced the arrival of each person staying here usually well in advance. Something else is going on here.

Something catches my eye on the hallway wall. It’s a small poster. Something I recognized from the fall festival. This was John’s poster. Or at least someone on the property who made this. Nova…what is Nova? 

The floor above me creaks. I carefully make my way into the building and place a boot on the bottom stair. At the top of the staircase shines a faint glow of a flame. 

I gulp. I know it's a bad idea but I climb the stairs, time step at time. I’m still feeling a bit tipsy so I try my best to make as little noise as possible until my head aligns with the railing. I hear people talking. 

“So, when do we start?” I recognize that voice, it’s Mr. Hunter. I take one step further so that my eyes line up with the bottom of the second floor. All the male helpers, John, Mr. Hunter, and Ross are standing around, smoking cigars. 

“I’m thinkin’ next week.” John says, “I want to get the family involved now. We’ll start with what they know. We all can take turns running the sermon, we’ve all studied it and we can do it on our own.”

So he is going to have church here. I guess that makes sense. We won’t have to travel all the way into town. But how does Nova tie into all of this? My mind conjures up a bunch of possibilities. I think back to the poster. 

Do you wish to escape from the modern world?

Do you want a better life for your family?

Has your religion led you astray?

Maybe, maybe he is creating a place where people who feel like their life is turning upside down can come feel some kind of fulfilment. The hard work does feel fulfilling and it exhausts you at the end of the day. On top of that, there’s a small community of people to lean on. Anna cooks them meals and John provides them shelter. 

For the church, he can’t bring more than his own family to town. There aren’t enough vehicles for that. The new volunteers do not have any means of transportation themselves so maybe this is just an easier way to ensure that they have access to religion?

Yet, for some reason, even though I’m trying to push this as the answer, my mind screams no. This is not the reason for this. There’s something else. Something very, very wrong.

“Charles and Samuel, I need y’all to think of ways to slightly change the sermon as time goes by. You know the material.” John flicks a piece of ember into an ashtray and turns to the new faces, “My family hasn’t seen it yet so we have to be cautious when introducing it to them.”

Introducing…what?

“Can’t you just show ‘em?” one of the men asks.

“No.” John shakes his head, “It’s a right of passage. They were strict when it came to children. They ain’t to see it until they’re older. ‘Sides, it’ll just scare them. It’s better if we slowly introduce the concept to them.”

Samuel shrugs, “Vince and Henry adjusted just fine after seeing it. Maybe Oliver will do the same?”

“I have to listen to them.” John reiterates, “Children will have to wait until their eighteen and have to be exposed to the truth constantly up until then. It worked for Mary only because I began explaining things to her around seventeen. Once she saw it, she accepted it immediately.  But she’s always been a good girl - both she and Shirley are - and Nathaniel helped a lot. The more rebellious children will be more of a problem. Rachel is mine, and yours, Oliver. I can still see him fighting.”

“I know.” Oliver’s father sighs, “I thought with Rachel being pregnant, it would smarten him up.”

John places a hand on his shoulder, “Don’t worry Sam. I have more ideas. This is why punishing children is so important. We can’t have them going off and doing their own thing such as finding their own partner. We as parents need to select their own partner to ensure that their lives are lined up properly.”

Although there’s nothing uncommon about the way people practise arranged marriages out here, the way John says it sends a chill down my spine. 

“What about adults? Ross asks, “What are you going to do with those who disobey?”

John smirks, “Punishment has always worked on my children, even Josh, so there ain’t no reason not to extend it to adults. Once winter hits, we need everyone to know the rules. We’ll work on that but if any of the newcomers have suggestions, we’re open to hearing it.”

“What about building another basement?” I know why Ross suggested it. He’s already used John’s without his permission. 

“I am in the process of finding a spot for it. It needs to be strategically placed, otherwise it won’t have any impact.” Ross’ face contorts into a sinister expression. 

“How’d you convince your daughter?” one of the new members asks.

“Mary has always been a complaint daughter. I told her I have a secret that only she would know and after her marriage, I’d show her. I’d give her little pieces at a time. I’d test her, see if she remembered what I said, and if she did, I’d reward her. I never did have to resort to any negative corrections and Anna helped me since she spent so much time around her. Not that any of you will need to do this, once you have children of your own, we will be settled into practice. Y’all will see. My younger children will learn very quickly.”  

Anna is in on this? Whatever this is? 

“We’d better get to work then.” Charles - Nathaniel’s father shrugs.

“Yes.” John says, “As discussed, a few more changes to this building and we’ll begin sermons here. I have a few other items on my list too. I want Rachel to move into your house Sam after the wedding. I’m going to keep Josh in the house until he smartens up. We’ll complete Ross and Charles’ homes before the winter. Once winter hits, we’ll begin the reconditioning and recruitment, as requested by Ross.”

A few of the men look over to the man with the scar on his eye. He answers their questions out loud, “Wife’s not been too keen on this whole transition. She especially doesn’t want me to have a second wife.”

And as if that wasn’t ever an issue, the same men nod and shrug it off as if it wasn’t illegal. 

“Don’t you worry yourself Ross, she’ll come around eventually.” John grins, “I’ll make sure of it.” 

“I don’t know if I’d want a second wife. One’s already too much to handle.” Mr. Hunter chuckles, “Are you getting a second wife John?”

“I have thirteen children with a fourteenth on the way.” John snuffs the end of his cigar out, “‘Sides, I have Joshua.”

“I was considering a doxy too.” Ross says, “But I think I should start focusing on having some children with someone who is capable of doing so.”

“We all know that it’s the number one priority, then we can consider finding a doxy.” John reassures, “I have already fulfilled that priority so I don’t think there’s any problem. Josh is perfect for the role. I made sure of it.”

All the air is sucked out of my lungs. I back down the stairs, not watching how careful of a sound that I’m making. The very last step creaks loudly and I snap out of my tunnel vision. Two sets of feet hurry across the second floor hardwood. I swing around and leap out of the door, grabbing the tin bucket in hand. It makes an awfully loud grating noise. 

I hear people barrel down the stairs behind me. I rush out to the grassy field but I don’t have enough time to hide behind the corner. I won’t make it to the mill. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” One of the newcomers calls. I stop dead in my tracks. 

I think of the best half-truth I could possibly conjure up, “A-Anna wants me to pick the flour up from the mill for tomorrow’s breakfast.”

“It sounded like you were in the building.” Another accuses.

I shake the bucket a bit, it creaks and groans loudly, “No sorry I wasn’t. I must have been too loud. I didn’t mean to make such a racket.”

One of the men doesn’t seem to be convinced but eventually shrugs his shoulders and waves me off. I rush into the mill, close the door behind me, and collapse to my knees. 

Chapter Text

I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop staring at the door.

Anna is pregnant. John is using me as a replacement for Anna. He’ll come for me soon. It’s only a matter of time. I have to get out of here. 

Anna smiles at me warmly. If I hadn’t overheard anything last night, I’d smile back without forcing it. She’s in on it too. 

“Good morning Josh.” she says in a chipper voice. I avoid eye contact and sit at the table, between Sherry and Peter.

“You okay Josh?” Sherry tilts her head. “It looks like you haven’t slept all night.” 

“Y-yeah…I didn’t sleep well.” I reach for a loaf of bread and tear it open. 

“Oh why’s that?” Sherry presses. 

“I don’t know.” I lie. She presses a finger to her bottom lip and hums. I focus on spreading butter on the warm bread. All I can think about is if I didn’t pick up the flour, John would have found out that I was spying – that I know that he is planning on using me. 

Almost as if he could read my mind, John comes into the kitchen. I keep my head down, trying to make myself as noticeable as possible. The bread tastes good, really good. I try to drown myself in the homemade breakfast while John walks around behind me. My entire body jumps off the bench when he ruffles my hair. 

Anna begins to laugh, “Oh John, you scared the poor boy.”

The family laughs. Everyone except for Rachel. I see it on her face - blue eyes wide and eyebrows knitted together. Concern. She knows that I know something, she just doesn’t know what. John’s hand lingers for a moment too long but when he retracts his hand I sigh a huge breath of relief. 

John tells Anna about how there’s just a little more work to do before the winter and then they can finally relax for a bit. He tells the family that this winter they’ll be using the new building as a church so that they won’t have to drive all the way into town when the roads are bad. 

“Your father has learnt how to teach us the word of God from the Church Leaders. Isn’t that wonderful?” 

The younger children - as John expected - don’t seem fazed by the entire shift. Instead, they seem really excited about the change. 

“Wow! Papa built a church?” Zacharias beams.

“Pa can do anything Zach.” Jacob proudly states. 

The twins, Sophia and Olivia seem a little sad. The more vocal of the two, Sophia, speaks up, “You mean we can’t see our friends all winter?”

“Just for the winter.” Anna says, giving them each a plate of freshly picked berries topped with cream. 

The twins nod their heads and begin to feast down on their sweet breakfast. 

“Papa, can I still wear my red dress to church?” Hannah asks innocently.

“Of course my little angel.” John chuckles, glancing over at me before sipping his coffee. I focus on eating whatever Anna puts in front of me. I can feel those hungry eyes all over me. My stomach lurches at the thought of how he used me for his own pleasure last time - when Anna was ‘unavailable’. 

“Peter, James, Josh - I’ll need your help in the church this afternoon. Finish your chores this morning. We need to do some painting.” John finishes his coffee and passes by me, his hand trailing alongside my back before leaving. Rachel looks at me in horror.

That afternoon the three of us helped paint the walls of the church. Now that John is out of the room, I can finally think. I know I promised Oliver that I wouldn’t leave until after winter, but now the circumstances have changed. I can’t leave around lunch – it was already suspicious when I accidentally missed it last time. I can’t leave during chores or working hours, it’s much too obvious. It’ll have to be sometime at the end of the day, before supper. 

“You seem kinda off all day.” Peter says. 

“I’m just exhausted. I-I didn’t sleep well last night.” 

“So I heard.” Peter shrugs, “I won’t press you.”

James is talking off Oliver’s ear on the other side of the church. I can hear his voice every once in a while, but I make a serious effort to not make any eye contact. It still hurts that he’s going to be a father and marry Rachel. I know it’s not his fault but it’s so hard to take. I’d much rather think about how John is keeping me as a substitute to Anna. Somehow, that’s easier to think about. 

“Pretty small church to what we’re used to.” Peter’s attempt to make conversation isn’t really helping.

“Yeah.” I respond because what am I supposed to say? That the church lessons are going to be slightly altered as time goes by? And altered to accommodate what? I don’t even know. All I do know is that when these children turn eighteen, that they’ll be exposed to something . Something that would be terrifying to a child but welcomed to an adult. 

Peter gives up and focuses on working. I don’t want to speak to anyone because if I do, I’m scared I’ll give away my plans. Time is ticking down now and I’ll have to take off. The room is almost done. There are one of two spots to touch up but someone else can worry about that tomorrow. Peter reseals the paint cans and takes off with James on a race through the yard. I pass by Oliver silently and begin washing my hands in the now functioning sinks.

The door clicks behind me.

I swing around expecting John to lock himself in here with me, knowing what I’m just about to do. Instead, I see Oliver, face slightly red and lips slightly upturned into a pout. “Why are you ignoring me?”

“I’m not.”

“You are. You can’t even look at me.” Oliver’s voice is scratchy, like he hadn’t used it in a long time.

“You know why I can’t.” I dry my hands on some paper towels, voice quickening in a desperate attempt to get him to leave, “You shouldn’t even be here. John’s going to catch us and he’ll-”

Oliver steps forward so quickly that I don’t have time to react. He hugs me tightly. His voice shakes, “I feel stupid. I can’t believe I mistook her for you. I’m such an idiot. I don’t want to be a father.”

I relent and hug him back, “I know. I don’t think Rachel wanted this either.”

“It isn’t fair.” He says, putting his nose into my hair and breathes in, “I don’t want her. I want you.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, tears quickly building in my eyes. I can’t break down. I’m going to be leaving in the next little while. So I hold him tightly, holding onto the memory of how his body feels in my arms. 

A knock at the door tears us apart. “Oliver, are you in there?”

It’s his brother - Vince. Oliver flushes the toilet and shouts out, “Yeah, I’ll just be a minute!”

“Hurry up now. Mum’ callin’ us for dinner.” I hear his boots tap against the floor and the front door slamming shut. 

“I’d better get going.” Oliver says. Grief clearly wracking over him. He leaves faster than I can muster up the courage to say or do something. If I was honest with myself, I’d admit that I wanted to kiss him goodbye. 

I take a deep breath, waiting until I can’t hear his boots tap on the wooden floors and when the front door finally clicks shut. I open the bathroom door carefully - the last thing I need is for someone to notice that we were in that room together. No, I’m alone. Thank god.

I leave the church and notice that everyone must have gone in to wash up for dinner. I rush across the grass trying to avoid anything faster than a speed walk. There is a possibility that someone from one of the other houses could come out at any time or that one of John’s children are still out doing chores in the barn or chicken coup. I scramble to come up with a story as I untie my coat from my waist. That’s when the berry bush catches my eye. It stands flush against the treeline, red and blue berries ripe and ready to be picked. 

I immediately turn my course of direction and head straight for the bush. As I walk, I make sure that my gloves are still in my pockets. The late afternoon sun is still quite warm, but in a matter of hours the air will cool fast. I should have packed a bag but I don’t have anywhere to hide it during the day or any way of hiding it. I’ve thought long and hard last night but the only way to hide a bag would have been under the cover of darkness. Unfortunately for me, the attic door is always locked and that would mean scaling down a third story window. I would have been caught. It especially wouldn’t have been possible during the daytime – John’s children and family friends are everywhere. If I get caught doing anything suspicious he’ll know. 

I reach the bush, not before Sherry’s voice calls out behind me, “Josh it’s time for dinner!”

I pretend to pick a few berries from the bush, startled by her sudden presence, “Y-you go along ahead of me. I just wanted to collect some berries.”

“You’re going to spoil your appetite, you know.” She places her hands on her hips and cocks her head. 

“With a couple of berries?” I pretend to laugh, “Nonsense. I’ll be in in a few minutes ok?”

She looks at me with some scepticism but shrugs her shoulders, “Well, hurry up okay? Ma doesn’t like when we’re late for dinner.”

I nod and thankfully she skips away. I pluck a few more berries until she’s rounded the corner. I take one last long stare at the farmstead, scanning each and every building - including the windows - before slinking into the forest. 

I immediately bolt into a sprint, trying to distance myself from John’s house as much as possible. There isn’t much coverage this time of year. At least half of the leaves have fallen from the trees and the underbrush isn’t thick anymore. The leaves and dried up sticks snap beneath my feet. I keep the road leading out and away from the property to my right, but eventually move further and further away from that as well. If John takes his truck, he might be able to see me from there and I’m not risking anything. 

The house eventually fades into the distance and I focus every effort on moving as quickly as I can. I begin to do the maths in my head. It usually takes John an hour to drive into town at the speed he normally drives. I’m not entirely sure how fast a human walks but obviously it’s a lot slower. I know I’ve guessed that it will take me an entire day so I’d better get a move on. I pull out a small flashlight from my pocket - something that I found in the attic late last night. I’m not sure how much juice is left in this, but I should only begin to use it when I can’t see two feet in front of my face. 

Hopefully I won’t be outside for too long. As long as I can reach town, I can at least not have to worry too much about being eaten or freezing to death. More importantly, I don’t have to worry about John or Ross. 

My speed begins to slow a little bit but I keep the pace. The sun peeks through the large pine and maple treeline. It’s not quite at the horizon yet and the sky's still blue. The entire forest floor is coated with a thick green moss and golden maple leaves. I can smell a faint decaying odour and the warm, humid smell of plant matter. The late day birds are still chirping. 

I swallow. My throat’s a little dry from the panting. I wish that I could have grabbed a bottle, but that would have raised suspicion. Anna would have been in the kitchen the entire time and noticed me. 

I can see the main road in the distance as I make my way over the crest of a hill. The road twists and turns into the foothills until it disappears from my sight. If I stay up here, I should have a pretty good lookout and I’ll be able to follow the road until town. I can also keep a vigilant eye on my surroundings - much easier than on the flat surface. 

I take a seat on the fallen log and watch the sun disappear behind a mountain in the far distance. I’ll need to use the flashlight soon. I’ll have to watch my footing and be extra careful now. I could sleep a night in the forest but I’m not sure how I’ll be able to survive. I don’t know how to make a shelter that would keep animals away. I don’t even know what kind of animals are in this area despite the fact that I’ve been living here all summer and most of the fall. 

I lick my dry lips. I’m starting to feel quite thirsty and the hunger from missing dinner is starting to set in. Maybe I’ll come across something small to satiate me until tomorrow, if not, I’ll just have to man it out until I get to town. 

Where am I going to turn to? The orphanage would only call John and I’d be sent back to his farm. Going to the police would result in the same. There’s the church. They are known to be charitable and often will provide hospitality for those in need, but will they contact John too? Or will they give me the benefit of the doubt and give me a place for the evening? There’s also a vagrant shelter where you can exchange labour for food and shelter. That’s probably the best place to go as long as they have room. I’ve heard that it's normally filled up though…

I reach the end of the hill's summit and am forced to descend its shoulder. Shadows race across my path and I begin to regret following this path and not closer to the road. It’s getting harder and harder to see. When I walk straight into a branch full of pine needles, I fish out my flashlight. 

The cold fall night sets in and the forest goes silent. Why didn’t I leave earlier in the year? At least in the summer there are crickets chirping at night. Unconsciously I slow down, pointing the light behind me to ensure that nothing is following me. My paranoia of the local wildlife ultimately costs me my footing and the ground beneath me gives away. A piece of moss tears away from the rest. The mud slick and wet underneath slides my feet forward and I slam onto the ground. 

I try my best to cover my head as I tumble down the hill. I roll faster and faster, unable to slow down or grab anything to stop myself. I feel roots and thorny plants jab into my face, stomach, and back. It’s a long way down. I have to stop myself. 

Panicked, I begin grabbing anything and everything I pass by but it isn’t until I slam into a tree that I finally stop. The air is knocked out of my chest and I lay against the tree gasping for air. Slowly, I am able to suck in more and more oxygen. 

Slowly I assess the damage. My chest hurts pretty bad but I can at least breath and move. Both my arms and legs can move but there is a gash on my head and my finger hurts to move. I can’t see my hand very well and look around for the flashlight. I dropped it during the quick descent. Down, far down, I can see a faint light from the torch. 

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” I scoot downward on my butt, feeling every twig and plant along the way down. It’s slow, but at least it’s safer than risking another tumble. I descend until the ground evens out. Thankfully the flashlight is still intact. Otherwise I’d be sleeping against that tree for the rest of the night. 

I reach out to grab the light with my right hand and now I know there’s something really wrong with my hand. I can’t grab it without pain shooting up and down my arm. With my left I grab the flashlight and shine it on my fingers. Two of them are swollen and bent awkwardly. Did I break them? This isn’t good. 

Carefully, I cradle my right arm into my chest. I try not to think about what this means. I have to focus on moving forward. It’s the only way to escape John and get help. 

I hear sniffing behind me. Slowly I turn around and stumble backwards. A fair of brown eyes stare back at me a few metres away. Its long, brown ears perk up while its black nose takes in the scents around it. 

“What is a dog…?” I shut up. The dog howls loudly. Suddenly I know exactly why a dog is here and I turn and run. I focus the light on the path ahead of me, ducking and jumping over fallen logs. The adrenaline coursing through my body helps me forget about my broken fingers and bruised rib cage. 

Not long after, I hear the stomping of horses’ hooves not long after the dog stops howling, but I keep running. 

Stupidly, I look back to see how close they are and trip and fall hard onto my right side. 

“Aghh!” My hand throbs as I land on it with my full body weight. I cradle it close to my body and look for the flashlight. It’s nowhere to be seen. 

I lay on my side, listening for any sounds to indicate where they are but my heart is pumping so loudly in my ears that I can't hear anything. I lay there for a long time before I realise that I need to get up and move now. No matter if I have light or not. 

I roll onto my stomach and push myself back onto my knees. I stand up, one foot at a time, and slowly, but terrifyingly make my way through the forest. A tree branch smacks me in the face and I swat it away. With one hand, I blindly feel my way through the forest. 

I hear the dog howl again, albeit much closer this time. It begins to bark menacingly at me and for a second I’m worried that it’ll attack. Instead, I hear the sound of hooves again. I turn around and a bright light blinds me. I hold my uninjured hand in front of my face, but I can’t make out the shape of the people behind it. No, I’m not going down without a fight. I turn away from them and begin sprinting away as fast as I possibly can. I know it’s fruitless but I have to try and do something. 

Unexpectedly, something wraps tightly around my torso and I slam into the ground. I dig my fingers into the soil and try to kick off whatever has attached itself to me. As it tightened, I realised that it’s a rope. Whoever is at the other end of it begins to pull backwards.

“No. No. No no no no no!” I desperately try to dig my boots into the ground and pull forward, but whoever is dragging me back is strong. The rope digs into my jeans tighter the more resistance I give it. The dog, some kind of orange, brown, and white hound, circles my head and growls when I move. 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” the man’s voice comes out mockingly, “Tried to get away did ya?”

I freeze, hearing another set of hooves approach. That rider’s light illuminates Ross. He has a sickening sneer on his face and a hungry look in his eyes. 

“I’ve roped up your escapee John.” Ross says dismounting. John says nothing, he holds the light directly on my face. 

I try to spin around onto my back but the dog snaps at my face. 

“Good girl Bella.” I hear another riding come up from behind. It sounds like Henry, one of Oliver’s older brothers, “Told ya it was worth it to get my dog first. Her nose is the best in the county.”

“It isn’t a bad idea…” John finally speaks up, “I think a couple of dogs would be useful around the farm. The kids will love ‘em too. Let’s discuss tomorrow.”

Ross jumps on top of me and quickly grabs both of my arms. I scream in agony when he pulls both hands behind my back. Ross swears at me, frustrated that I’m not standing still. 

“Wait.” John instructs. I hear him dismount and walk up to us. He flashes the light onto my back, “Damn little faggot fucked his hand up.”

“So it seems.” Ross releases my hands and suddenly flips me over. He winds the rope around my wrists from the front.

“Had a bad tumble boy?” John snickers, “That’s what you get for taking off.”

I don’t say anything. I focus on how bad my finger looks right now. It’s so red and swollen. Something drips into my eye and down my cheek. John leans down and wipes something across my forehead. I flinch back. He wipes his bloody fingers on his pants.

“Hm, might have to bring the doctor in tomorrow.” John raises himself, “Probably will have to anyway, after I'm finished with him.”

Ross drags me to my feet. I immediately spin around and try to take off but Ross grabs me. He clicks his tongue, “Ain’t no way we’re chasing after you again.” 

I struggle against him. There’s no way I’m going back down to the basement. Not again. I don’t want John to fuck me. Kick my foot backwards, trying to land a blow on the man. I focus struggling so much on the man who’s restraining me that I don’t notice John sneaking up, holding a cloth. He smothers it against my face, “Goodnight Joshua .”

Chapter Text

The entire trip back I fell in and out of consciousness. Ross kept my hands tied to the saddle horn and placed me pretty much on his lap, constantly brushing against his erection. I remember gaining consciousness several times and then John holding that cloth over my mouth and knocking me out again and again.

The next time I awaken, it’s due to the cold pavement against my skin. My entire body aches. My mouth is completely dry. My hand is in unimaginable pain. When I move my legs, I hear a chain rattle. I open my eyes to complete darkness. 

My good hand reaches back to find that there’s a shackle around both of my ankles. Someone removed my shoes and my jacket. My right hand feels hot, hotter than it should be. As my lungs inflate, my ribs ache. I feel hunger claw from inside, but it isn’t as bad as how dehydrated I feel. I’m so thirsty. 

The lights turn on and I hiss. My head feels as if it's been stuffed with cotton and my eyes burn. I scramble backwards until I hit the wall. I bring my knees to my chest when I see John, Ross, and one of the new volunteers enter the room. 

They barely glance at me before they begin talking, “I’ve never had one of my own run away. I’m havin’ a hard time choosin’ an appropriate punishment. I want something that really gets the message across.”

John suddenly stares at me, “Although, I could use more than one. William, can you get my drill set from the barn?”

“Yes sir.” I watch the man leave obediently. My mind begins to wander. What is he going to do with it? I cradle my injured hand.

“Ross, go pick out a plug. Oh, and start boiling some water.” John begins walking towards me, head held high and scowl on his face. His footsteps echo off the walls of the concrete prison, ticking like a timer counting down. He stops a foot from my feet, his ice cold eyes staring straight into my soul, “I was gonna say it’ll be worse if you try a stunt like that again but, you’re not going to be able to try it again. When we’re done with you, you’ll listen to every word I say, because if you don’t, I’ll start punishing your little boy toy, and physically this time.”

“Y-you wouldn’t…” my voice comes out in barely a whisper.

John grabs my chin, his mouth contorting into a sinister grin, “I would….and didn’t I make it clear that you two are not to be around each other?”

John never verbally said it, but I can’t build the nerve to correct him. “H-how did you know?”

“I told you.” he strokes my cheek, “I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“W-what are you going to do with me?” I can’t keep the fear out of my voice. I’ve never seen him look so deranged before. 

He suddenly releases my face, “If I told you, it wouldn’t be much of a punishment, now would it?”

The man turns around and joins Ross at one of the workbenches. I try to see what they’re pulling out of the cupboard but it’s impossible to see from this angle. Ross suddenly leaves up the stairs and John returns with a pair of metal cuffs attached to a full length chain. The chain is fed through a link on the wall and attached to a pulley system. He roughly grabs both my wrists and latches the cuff around both. 

“Tsk tsk.” John turns me around to face the wall, “Broke two fingers huh? Going to be awfully hard doing chores in a cast.” 

He forces me to my feet and pulls the chains through the pulley. My hands press against the wall, about shoulder height. My entire right hand begins to throb. John slides his hands up my chest from behind, kissing me on the back of my ear, “We’re going to have so much fun with you. You’ll learn to never run away again.”

It hurts to breathe. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest that I don’t even realise that John has returned to the table. In fact, it’s worse that he’s left because that means he’ll come back with more. What is he going to do? 

I stare at the blank grey wall in front of me, too scared to move a muscle. I hear both William and Ross come back down the stairs. I hear the swish of the boiling water from the kettle and the jingling from the screws in John’s drillbox. Someone turns on some old folk music and the subbasement’s door creaks shut. 

“Hm, a quarter of an inch will do. Two of them.” John says. Someone digs around the box and pulls out what I can only assume are screws. The sound of pouring water hits a bowl followed by the plunk of two screws. 

“What’s next?” William asks.

“We’ll leave them there to sterilise but while we’re waiting…” John chuckles, “Let’s go have some fun.” 

I twist around at the mention of ‘fun’. My two broken fingers protest the movement, but my innate fear is stronger. I press my hip against the wall and try to curl up in a desperate attempt to protect myself. The chains holding my wrist don’t allow me to lower more than an arm’s length. I hold my crouching position, watching as the three men painstakingly come closer and closer. Ross rolls a table behind him. 

I let the words slip before I realised it, “I’m sorry….please…don’t-”

“Haha!” Ross howls, “The boy’s already scared?”

My eyes flick between Ross and John but ultimately fall onto the stranger. William fixes his aviator-style glasses. His two dark brown eyes stare back behind the thin lenses. I search his face for some kind of mercy but what I find isn’t anything remotely close to that. What I find is intrigue. 

I close my eyes, “I won’t do it again, please…”

“Should have thought about that before you bolted.” John says sternly, picking me up and guiding my hands back against the wall. The breaks in my middle and ring finger spark to life. I stifle the sound coming out of my mouth. 

I immediately twist back and curl back into a loose ball, “No! Don’t touch me!”

Ross cackles again, pulling the table into view. A bottle beside what looks like a silicone, plump spade. It sits on a flat edge. I don’t know what it is but I know it isn’t good. 

“It’s your first time William, do you want to go first?” The man doesn’t answer but I hear him walk up and his belt unbuckle. John forces me to turn my face towards him as William hastily unbuckles my own belt and unzips my pants. I hear the sound of a bottle snapping open. 

“Please no…” I whisper. 

“Now now. Don’t worry. You can scream as loud as you want.” John squeezes my cheeks, nails digging into my skin, “You don’t have to worry about waking up Anna or the kids.”

William lowers my underwear just enough to begin prodding my ass. I start thrashing and successfully break away from William for a moment. John grabs me around my rib cage, fingers prodding my bruised ribs. Will grabs my hips and I kick him in the leg. 

“Ross.” John calls as William swears, “Hold him down.”

I won't stop fighting. I’m not going down without one. Ross waltzes over and doesn’t bother doing what John asks. Instead he simply grabs my middle finger with two of his own and twists. A scorching pain shoots through my finger. I scream, sinking down, trying to pull my hand away. My nerves are on fire. Pain shoots up my arm like white hot lightning. John yanks my head towards him the moment that Ross lets go. He kisses me deeply, shoving his tongue in my mouth. I recoil but I have nowhere to move. His hands drop to my ass and squeeze one of the cheeks. Someone else grips the opposite side and suddenly I feel Willliam enter me. 

It’s worse than last time. I can feel something tear the further and further William pushes inside. An intense pressure builds in my stomach, even when he finally stops and bottoms out. Why does it hurt so much worse this time?

John doesn’t stop kissing me the entire time I’m screaming into his mouth. His hands run through my hair and wipes the tears off of my cheeks. William pulls back and then buries himself into me deeper. 

“Shit, he’s bleeding.” He says with a slight bit of concern. 

“It’s okay. Doctor is comin’ tomorrow.” John reassures and with that, William continues thrusting. He slowly picks up pace and the pain becomes worse and worse. There’s something really wrong on the left side, inside my body. With every thrust I can feel something pinching. 

William wraps his arms around my waist and lays his head against my back. He begins thrusting faster and faster. The sick sound of the lube - and my blood - squelching. My underwear falls past my knees and around my ankles. 

“I’m coming-” he calls, slapping his hips hard into me one last time before swearing into my back. He groans, riding his orgasm out and pushing his cock as deep as he possibly can and then pulling out. 

Ross doesn’t let me rest for a moment. He takes Williams' place as soon as he pulls out of me. His thick cock enters my body and my body resists. It’s unnaturally big and it hurts so much. 

“Stop…ah! It hurts! It hurts!” I cry out, “I’m sorry…please stop!”

I don’t know where I find the tears. My throat and mouth are dry. My body is completely dehydrated and swollen. Yet globs of tears roll down my cheeks. My voice gargles out another scream when Ross begins to thrust into me at an ungodly speed. I look down at the ground. There’s specks of blood everywhere. Each and every time Ross’ plunges back into me, drops of blood rain down onto the cement. 

“Please! I’m hurt. Stop, please! Ross-”

He smacks me across the head, “Shut up. Don’t you dare call me by my first name, you disrespectful cunt.”

I try to shift forward and away from the intrusion but Ross moves with me. My cheek presses against the rough, cold wall. John leaves my side, allowing Ross to have his way with me. Ross grabs my hips with his disgusting, cigarette stained fingers. He slows down, his dick sliding out of me slowly and then back into me roughly. 

“Hmm yean.” Ross grasps a chunk of my hair, rocking his hips back and forth, “This is exactly what you were made for you little fag.”

He tugs my head backwards, leaning forward and biting the side of my neck. He grunts a few more times before stilling. I choke back a sob. He slides out of me but replaces his dick with something else. I muster the courage to look over my shoulder and notice that black phallus is no longer on the table. 

My legs are shaking and I’m having a hard time standing. I try to push the sex object out of my body but it feels like it’s suctioned inside of me. William places a bowl of the boiling hot water on the table, next to a drill. 

“W-what are you going t-to do with t-that?” I tremble. John doesn’t answer me. He leans over to my left leg and lifts up a metal ring that has been embedded into the floor. The ring opens slightly and fits into the loop on the cuff on my ankle, immobilising it almost completely. My right foot is moved further away and attached to another ring.

John yanks the silicone plug out of my ass and replaces it with his cock. I tense up but hold my tongue this time. The mix of semen and blood, as awful as it is, smoothly glides his dick into my body. John leans down, kissing the bite mark that Ross left behind and gently rocks himself into me. I smell liquor on his breath when he exhales onto my earlobe, “Sexy little boy.”

If I had anything in my stomach, I’d vomit. John slides his hand up my shirt and pinches one of my nipples. I shutter unexpectedly. 

I can feel John smile into my neck, “Atta boy.” 

His hand caresses my stomach, travelling lower and lower until I hear the drill’s motor turn on. I snap out of my daze and look back at the two men. Both Ross and William have gloves on. Ross steps around John and squats in front of me, seizing my left calf. 

“No…” I mutter at first, trying to find my voice again.

William joins Ross, holding the shiny, silver screw in one hand and the drill in the other. 

“No! NO!” I scream, squirming against John. My feet won’t move. They’re crazy! They can’t do what I think they’re going to do-

William places the clean bit on the chuck and then places the point of the screw against the side of my leg. He takes one last look at Ross who nods, ready to go. As soon as I hear the motor turn, I feel my flesh being torn into. 

I scream in agony. The metal screw rips through my skin and muscles. Small pieces of flesh fly onto William’s shirt. I try and try to jerk away but it’s impossible. I feel every millimetre of the hot metal impale into my bone. As quickly as it started, it stops. William tries to adjust the torque drills half a rotation further. My whole body racks in pain. 

“So tight…” John mumbles into my ear. I completely forgot that he’s still having sex with me. The pain from being fucked by him is in no way even comparable to the screw drilling into my leg. 

William returns to the table and I think it’s finally over until I hear the second screw being fished out of the bowl. 

“Please…stop!” my voice rasps, “I beg you, please!”

William ignores me and grabs my leg yet again. This time, the screw pointed into the opposite side of my ankle. I sob uncontrollably, knowing that this will feel even worse than the first side. 

“This is what you get for running away.” John chuckles. He reaches down and grabs my soft dick, fondling it in his hands, “Now you’ll never be able to run again.”

You’re evil. I think before the drill roars to life. I scream so loud that John is taken back but he doesn’t stop fucking me. I can’t even feel him thrusting anymore. I feel the destruction of my nerves as the metal cork destroys my bone. My right leg gives away when what can only be described as an electric shock seizes up all of the muscles in that leg. 

By the time the drill comes to a stop, John is literally holding me up. He’s buried deep inside of me, panting hard, calling me names of endearment. My head is spinning but I don’t pass out. John pulls out of me and inserts the black plug in again. It sits uncomfortably inside of me but I’d welcome it over the way my leg feels like right now. 

William and Ross remove the metal cuffs around my legs and arms. I slump forward, pants around my ankles. Both men hold me up and drag me over to a stool. Everything is out of focus except for the small trail of blood. The phallus inside of me shifts uncomfortably as I’m sat down and that’s when I realise this thing is holding the cum of all three men inside of me. My stomach grumbles uncomfortably. 

John carts the table back to one of the work benches and spins around abruptly. There’s a softness to his face, almost as if he’s pitying me, “I’m not going to ask you again if you’re going to stay because I’ve made sure that you will.”

He strokes my face, leaning in and kissing me in the most vulgar way possible, “Be a good boy and I’ll make sure that it won’t get infected. Disobey and you can say goodbye to your leg.”

Chapter Text

John carries me up the stairs. I bite into the sock in my mouth. They’ve tied the gag tight around my head, but even if I did want to remove it, I wouldn’t dare do it. 

John sits me on the toilet and draws water from the sink into a wooden bucket. My legs are dipped into the cold water. He pulls out a new bar of scented soap and begins to clean my legs. Sharp, acute pain flares through my ankle. I try my best to hold back my screams but they come anyway. John doesn’t bother looking up at me to send me a warning. 

The soap burns so badly. It feels as though my skin begins to sizzle. As my feet are dunked back into the bucket, the pain goes away. I try my best to keep myself from crying. The fabric is so thick in my mouth I doubt that I’d be able to breathe if my nose becomes clogged with mucus. 

John carefully gathers my legs and dries them in a towel, placing them down when they’re completely dry. My ankle is still bleeding profusely. The torn flesh surrounds a hole. As John treats my injury, he moves my leg slightly and I see the silver screw. He fishes out the first aid kit and begins wrapping gauze around my ankle after a thick cotton pad is placed on either side of my ankle.

“There we are.” he says softly, “Should begin to scab over in a few days.”

He smiles at me endearingly - as if he hadn’t just raped and tortured me. He scoops me back into his arms. I feel the plug move uncomfortably inside of me. 

I’m taken upstairs, all the way back into the attic where he finally lays me down. I howl when my feet knock against each other. John chuckles, looking around, “I guess we’ll need something that’ll help you get around hmm?”

There’s no god damn way that I’m going to be able to walk for weeks! How is he going to expect me to ‘get around’?

“Let’s see…” John walks up a closet at the far side of the room. Inside there’s a bunch of miscellaneous things - fishing rods, a wooden stool, a net, but what he brings out is something that I didn’t expect. He places a set of wooden crutches on my bedside and sits down. He places a hand on my stomach and rubs it. I grimace. 

“We’ll get your hand looked at tomorrow and once we’ve set the bones, you’ll be up and about in no time. I’m sure the doctor will give you some painkillers and somethin’ to prevent infection.” he slides his hand under my shirt. I flinch and let my voice muddle into the sock. I feel the sperm slide around the rounded sides of the plug and the tip itself digging against my organ.

John smiles, “Oh the thing inside of you? I’ll decide when to take it out.”

I can’t stop my eyes from widening. When?! I could get an infection. I know I’m bleeding down there. What if I have to use the bathroom? He reaches around my head and unties the gag. My jaw cracks loudly when the sock is finally extracted. 

“Now, you be nice and quiet.” John begins kicking off his boots and taking off his shirt. I lay there, eyes locked on his every move. When he’s down to his wife beater and boxers, he begins stripping my pants off, putting a single finger up to my lips to be quiet. I bite my lip and shove a hand over my mouth. Even though he’s careful, pain flares up my leg from the slight movement of taking off my pants. 

“There’s a good boy.” John tosses the dirty pair of jeans to the side and unbuttons my shirt. After he undresses me he carefully covers me with a blanket and joins me, holding my head against his chest. I’m so scared that I don’t move a muscle until I fall asleep. 

-

The next morning I awake to a man coming into the room. It’s the same doctor as last time - the one who gave me the stitches. He takes a quick look at my fingers and confirms that yes, I did break both of them. He gives me a couple of pills to block the pain out as he sets my fingers. The pain is nothing compared to having two screws being drilled into my ankle. After he’s done, he attaches two splits to both fingers and gives John a bottle of pills for me to take. The bloodied gaze is changed and replaced with something new and sterile. 

I think that I’m going to be able to rest for the day but I am dead wrong. After a painful and awkward moment of John dressing me, John lifts me into his arms and instructs me to hold the crutches. He brings me all the way down to the first floor. “Now then, you’re all ready to help out now.”

I gave him a look. He’s not serious, right? He responds by handing me the crutch, helping me place it under both of my armpits. How am I supposed to hold it when two of my fingers are broken? 

“I’ll get you a medical sock and you’ll be ready to feed the animals.” John steadies me, taking one last look up and down my body. He turns and leaves me in the hallway, fumbling with the crutch and dealing with the intense pain in both limbs. I step forward with my good leg, swaying back and forth. I step back again, realising that won’t work. I reset and move both the crutches forward, and then hopping forward to catch up with the supports. Pain shoots through my hand every miserable step that I make, but at least the pain in my leg is stronger than the constant bruising from the anal plug brushing inside of me. 

The children look up from their breakfast for just a moment before returning their attention on their freshly cooked meal. I notice Rachel’s frightened gaze linger for a small moment longer than her siblings. I hobble my way over to the table and plop down as quickly and safely as I can. The moment my injured leg hits the ground I whine. A dull, feverish pain jolts up my leg, all the way up to my knee. The area around the screws doesn't stop throbbing.

Anna places a bowl of porridge in front of me. I drearily look around. Everyone else has pancakes, bacon, and a heaping serving of berries. I smile bitterly, this is another way that they’re punishing me. 

Before I leave for breakfast, John places a thick, blue sock around my ankle and helps me put on my left shoe before leaving me alone for the day. I’m still in charge of feeding the horses and the cows. How exactly I’m going to hold a bucket is beyond me.

I focus step by step until I reach the barn and take a break. My hand hurts from just the short distance that yesterday I would have had no problem with. 

If I hadn’t escaped. Tears form in my eyes. I’m so stupid. Why didn’t I wait until the spring? I’d much rather John touch me for a few months than to never be able to run and jump again for the rest of my life. I sob as quietly as I can, giving myself a moment to release the built up balloon in my chest. 

Wiping the tears from my face, I turn to the task at hand. The impossible task. More tears fall down my face at the mere sight of the grain, knowing how painful it’ll be to try and hold that heavy thing in my hand while moving on my damaged leg. I slide over to the sack and begin filling the bucket with grain, testing the weight and filling it some more. I can’t fill it too full if I can’t carry it. 

I line up the crutches and curl my fingers around the handle of both the crutches and the bucket. I step forward. Maybe this will work after all…I make it halfway through the barn when the bucket slips from my tired fingers. “Shit no.” 

As I try to fish the bucket off the ground, one of the crutches catches something underneath the hay and I tumble down, spilling the grain in the process. I howl out in pain. I reach to grab the injury but it just makes everything much much worse. The plug inside of me shifts and I feel something leak out from behind. 

“Josh?” I look up and see Rachel. 

“No. No, get out of here. You’ll get in trouble.” I grit. 

“Nonsense.” She says stubbornly and leans down, helping me to my feet. She immediately drops to her feet and begins cleaning up the grain. 

“What’s going on in here?” John and Mr. Hunter are at the barn door. I must have sounded like a dying animal for them to race over here so quickly.

“Josh fell.” Rachel says, scooping up the last bit of feed. 

John walks up to her and for a moment I think he’s going to hit her, but instead he pats her on the head, “Good girl, always looking out for everyone else. Give me the bucket. I’ll go and feed the animals.”

She takes off obediently. I breathe a sigh of relief. I thought she was going to be punished for merely helping me. John leans down towards me, “Can’t even feed the animals huh? Maybe Anna can use you in the kitchen.”

I nod, my arms still shaking from the fall. 

“If you do a good job, maybe I’ll take it out after lunch.” he gropes my ass once and turns to leave, “But you’d better do a good job. Everything’s fine Sam, let’s get going.”

I shuffle back to the house, taking extra effort not to fall this time. Anna is understandably surprised when I return. “John wants you to help me?”

I nod, taking a seat at the table. My stomach tightens. The prod deep inside my gut is starting to feel more and more uncomfortable. 

“Rachel does all the helping but I suppose I can use an extra set of hands.” She hands me a large knife, “You’ll be in charge of cutting up vegetables then.”

And that’s what I do, for the entire morning, sit there and cut vegetables, trying to ignore the ever present, pounding pain in my body. Rachel sits beside me, quietly focusing on her tasks until Anna leaves the room to check up on the younger children.

“Josh.” she whispers. It’s so quiet I almost don’t hear her talk. 

“Thanks for helping me.” I say, quietly.

“Of course.” she says, eyes flicking over to the hallway, “Why’d you try and run away?”

“...I didn’t want to become his plaything.” I throw the cubed potatoes into the bowl in front of me. 

“His what-” Rachel cuts herself off. She grabs a handful of dill and shoves a stalk into each of the jars in front of her. She doesn’t finish her question.

Anna returns shortly after and continues to give me tasks that I can handle sitting down until lunch. By then the pain is unimaginable and I know that I need some kind of relief. The plug inside my ass is becoming uncomfortable too. I’m going to have to use the bathroom and I’m scared of what will happen if I’m not given the chance. 

John brings in his entire workforce. I barely register Oliver’s presence, although he's instructed to sit by Rachel anyways. John places a hand on my knee and I yelp. The process of him doing that alone sent a ripple of pain up my ankle as it was forced to touch the ground. 

“Looks like we’d better get you some medicine hm?” He helps me to my feet and I follow him over to the main hallway and to the bathroom. My head begins to pound by the time that I make it through the doorway. He locks the bathroom door behind me, “Sit on the edge of the tub.” 

I do so obediently. I’ll do whatever it takes to get some kind of relief. Although it didn’t cross my time at the moment, it would have been incredibly embarrassing to have been walking around with spoiled pants.

“Pull down your pants.” I hesitate, only for a moment until I realise that this thing is finally coming out. I drop my pants hesitantly and sit back down on the edge of the tub. I notice there’s only a little bit of fluid that slipped out when I had my fall. John tosses my arms around his neck and reaches around my back. I feel the plug being slowly dislodged from my body in a pop. Embarrassingly, more than blood and semen comes out. I hide my face in the crook of his neck, feeling absolute shame fill the inside of my body. John holds me as if it isn’t much of a big deal. He turns on the water and cleans out the tub thoroughly, wiping my backside. 

“Now then, hopefully we won’t have to use that for a while.” John sneers, “Let’s get you some painkillers since you’ve been such a good boy.”

I redress myself and swallow the two pills that John hands to me. “Let’s get back to lunch then shall we? Then I have a surprise for the family.”

I don’t like the sound of that. Every ‘surprise’ so far has been either heartbreak or something horrible. John guides me back to the dining room, where lunch is already served. There’s a feeling of relief now that the black object has been removed from inside of me. Even though I’m still in pain, at least I don’t have to think about that stupid toy. I take a seat next to John and stare at the tomato soup in front of me. 

“Henry, did you bring them?” John asks Mr. Hunter’s son.

“Sure did. Two adults and two young ones.” he grins. He brought more people here?

“Been working on them for a while now. They should be ready. The little ones will need work.” Henry grins proudly. What the hell are they talking about?

I shakily bring the soup to my lips and make the mistake of catching Oliver’s eyes. There’s a mixture of concern and anger reflected in them. Rachel must have told him. He has every reason to be angry. I broke his promise and now I don't think I'll have another chance to escape. I had no idea that John would be that sadistic. 

“I want my kids to meet me outside at one o'clock. I have a surprise.” John announces. The kids begin to chatter amongst themselves, throwing guesses to what it could possibly be. This is the first time John has done something like this. I can't help but be concerned about what this surprise could be. 

John leaves the table, giving me the usual pat on the head, and leaves his children in anticipation. Rachel, Shirley, and Oliver stay behind to clean up the table and wash the dishes while Anna takes the younger kids over to the living room to do some writing exercises to pass the time. 

I hear Shirley and Rachel begin to wash the dishes. The dishes clink against the basin and each other. Anna shuts the glass doors to the living room and that's when Oliver does the stupidest thing imaginable.

“Why would you leave?” He whispers, sitting too close, “You promised!”

I can't respond to him. My throat feels as though it's closed up. I check the room that Anna is in and notice that the door is still closed. Behind us Shirley and Rachel are looking back but remaining quiet. John and his helpers can't be seen from the dining room window. 

“You said you wouldn't leave until-”

“Oliver shut up.” I growl and my body begins to tremble, “Are you trying to get us in trouble? You can't talk to me.”

“Of course not.” Oliver snaps, “But I might not get the chance to talk to you anytime soon.”

I glance at the girls, “I can’t talk to you. Leave me alone…”

I reach for my crutches. He needs to stop or else he'll be the next one in the basement. Yes, I know I screwed up. I know I should have waited until the spring so that we could leave together. But if I say those words out loud, someone is going to hear and I don't know the repercussions for that. Oliver looks both hurt and angry. Doesn't he understand that I'm protecting him? 

I slide off the bench and haphazardly stand up the crutches. My right foot slides against the floor on my first try to stand up. I bite my lip incredibly hard, but it doesn't stop the loud muffled scream from coming out. 

I hear Anna rush into the room, “What's going on here?”

I blink tears back. The piercing pain in my leg subsides though for me to speak properly, “I-I banged my f-foot on the ground. I just wanted to go to the living room.”

I hope my performance is good enough for Anna to accept. The pain is real though. She stares at me for a moment and then snaps back into reality, “Josh, you need to be careful. Come sit down with the young ones. No more work for you today.”

She guides me out of the room. I try so damn hard not to cry. I focus on the pain in my body instead of the emotional turmoil brewing in my mind. I can’t think about Oliver. How upset he is. How I let him down. Anna carefully guides me onto an armchair. “Now if you need anything, let me know hun.”

I stare blankly past her. My ankle throbs in time with the grandfather clock in the room. Conner and Isabelle lay on their stomachs only a few feet away from me, pointing at some pictures in a book. Zach, Hannah, Jacob, Sophia, and Olivia scribble in their notebooks. The time ticks away in what feels like no time at all. 

“It’s time. Let’s go outside and see what your father has to show us.” All seven of the younger children begin to cheer and race to the door. I struggle to my feet, knowing that I won’t be able to sit this one out, and hop across the room. I keep my eyes trained on the wooden floor. Anna carefully puts the medical sock around my wrecked foot and helps me put on my shoe. By the time she finishes, the children are squealing outside. 

“Sounds like a great surprise.” Anna smiles softly to herself. I could care less. She holds the door open for me and peaks outside, “Oh John, how thoughtful.”

I stop on the deck. It makes sense now. On the night I ran away, John had said he thought dogs would be a good idea after Henry’s dog tracked me down. I just didn’t think he’d get this many. As Henry said earlier, he brought two adult dogs and two puppies. Two bloodhounds and two shepherds. The adult bloodhound happily jogs up to Sophia and Olivia and wags his tail. The shepherd doesn’t seem as interested in the kids but allows them to pet her. The two puppies jump up on top of Connor and licks his face, butts wiggling wildly the more he giggles. 

 Henry picks up the smaller shepherd, “I’ll need to do some more training with these little guys, but the adults are ready to work.”

“What’s their names!?” Hannah yells.

“The puppies you need to name.” Henry pats her on the head, “The shepherd over there is Lucy and the bloodhound is Cooper.”

“I love Cooper!” Olivia’s soft voice raises unexpectedly, “Thank you Papa!”

John smiles warmly, “Of course my little angel.”

Henry hands the smaller dog over to John. Anna steps down the stairs and up to John, giving him a kiss and thanking him for being so thoughtful. I turn around and carefully step my way over to the swinging bench. My hand is starting to ache from holding my weight up for too long. As I sit down, the small puppy is placed on my lap. A hand combs through my hair and I shutter. John leans down, whispering in my ear, “Cooper is just as good as the other dog who found you last night. You’re going nowhere no time soon. Do you understand?”

I swallow, nodding. 

“Good.” His breath tickles my ear. I look down at the small puppy on my lap. It curls up on my lap. The merle markings on its back and head are silver in colour and its face is almost entirely white. I know it’s just an innocent puppy but will it be raised to terrorise me too?

Chapter Text

The next few weeks are agonising. I get no sleep. My ankle is in constant pain for the first two weeks. I knocked my feet together so often during sleep that the pain woke me up. Merely moving my foot without any resistance is painful. The muscles around my legs and feet would lock up and pop if I avoid stretching it for too long and then when that happens, a sharp pain so searing explodes through every cell of my leg. 

My fingers feel the least messed up. The doctor came yesterday to look at them and they’re nearly healed. Only another week or so until I can remove the splint. My ankle will probably take longer, but the doctor hasn’t been looking at my ankle. He doesn’t even know about it - I’m always sitting when he arrives and my crutches are put away. 

John regularly visits me at night, sleeping next to me, holding me. It’s so awkward but at least he’s not trying to touch me sexually. In a way, it’s almost comforting to have someone look over me and make sure that my wounds don’t become infected. I’ve listened to every word he’s said, although he hasn’t really asked much of me since. I focus on helping Anna around the house and reading because there’s nothing else I can do. Probably after a week of nearly no communication from the other children, they begin speaking to me. Most likely because John permitted it. It isn’t that stimulating though, nothing of substance is shared. 

John slides his arms around me in the middle of the night. I’m slowly getting used to him being there even though I don’t want him to be anywhere near me. I’m just a toy to him. I’m pulled against his chest. His large hands stroke my chest, dipping lower and lower until they rest on my hips. He exhales and I still. 

The skin around my ankle has finally scabbed over. I try to keep my right leg as far away from John as possible in case he shifts his body into mine. I don’t want to reopen anything otherwise it’ll take even longer for it to heal. I don’t want to be in pain any more. 

I manage to get a couple hours of sleep before John awakes me with a kiss on my temple. 

“Time to get up.” he says softly. He dresses himself and then helps dress me. I’ve become accustomed to this embarrassingly quick but I don’t really have any other choice in the matter. It’s still painful to do anything by myself. 

He helps me down the stairs for breakfast. I take my usual seat next to John, bowing my head for prayer. The prayer is almost completely different since the first small change was introduced. None of the kids have been questioning what Nova is. I want to ask John but the pain in my leg reminds me to remain quiet. 

A light snow falls from the sky. It began last night. Even if my ankle was uninjured, I wouldn’t be able to leave. The air is cold and crisp when the family heads to the church for morning mass. Or celebration? I’m not sure what this is. There are parts of the sermon that are similar to the sermon in town, but again, there’s mentions of Nova and the Eternal instead of the mention of the old religion’s God. John leads it every Sunday. There’s no music, or at least for now. 

John always makes sure that I’m at the front and personally escorts me to the first row on the right hand side. Anna sits next to me with a pleasant smile on her face. On the other side of the aisle, John has intentionally placed a distraction. He’s testing me. I try my hardest to keep my eyes forward. 

Someone is always watching.

“It is only a matter of time before the surrounding communities catch wind of our new community.” John addresses the small congregation from the front, “There are now thirty-three of us, with three more on the way. We unfortunately have limited room for more members at this time, however, it doesn’t mean that we cannot demonstrate our values for future members.”

I can’t look John in the face. This is awkward. I don’t want to be here like the volunteers that joined us a few months ago. I want to leave. 

“I will continue to work with the King until sometime in the spring. After that, I will be committing my efforts full-time to Nova. We are very fortunate to have such a bountiful crop each year. Next year, we will expand our operations to increase revenue. We will also start on construction once the ground thaws.” 

My mind has been debating what exactly John is up to for a while now. From an outsider, this does look like a new community. Almost as if John is creating a hamlet or his own. Is Nova the name of the community? That would explain the housing construction. It doesn’t explain the church though and the changes to the prayers. Unless…John is trying to start his own religion?

“To conclude our mass today with a demonstration of love.” John smiles, his eyes momentarily land on me. “Please embrace the person beside you.”

John steps down from the platform and places a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. He guides him towards me. I keep my eyes on the ground but struggle to my feet. My hands grip the 

crutches tightly. 

“Go ahead.” John whispers in his ear but it’s intentionally loud enough for me to hear, “Show me that you can love him as a friend and not a lover.”

I can feel Oliver’s gaze on me. Since our last interaction, I don’t know if he’s still furious with me. I do everything in my power to focus on the ground. Oliver steps forward. He hesitates. John chuckles, “Go on then.”

Oliver’s arms shakily slide around my shoulders and awkwardly he stands there. There’s a space between us which John closes by pushing Oliver closer. His chest bumps into mine and I can feel his heart beating rapidly. I can smell the pine aftershave on his face. 

“Good.” John ruffles my hair. I stand there awkwardly, unable to return the hug. John drapes his arms around both of us, squeezing the three of us together. It only lasts for a second, but I feel every inch of my skin crawl. 

John separates us and I return to my seat. Anna turns to me and gives me a kiss on the head, giving me a hug as well, before helping me up to my feet again. She leads me out of the church and watches me hobble my way back to the house to help prepare dinner. John is planning on having a huge feast today. 

As usual, half the children attend their chores outside, but for a shorter period of time since crops no longer have to be tended to. It’s getting cold and Anna doesn’t want them outside for too long. I help prepare vegetables by washing, peeling, and slicing potatoes, carrots, onions, garlic, and whatever else Anna hands to me. It’s mind numbing work - I can see why Rachel zones out when doing it. 

I flex my foot every thirty minutes or so. The screw grinds in my bone uncomfortably and I wonder if my body is trying to reject it. The muscle around the injury aches but it no longer hurts as bad as it did. I still can’t apply much pressure on that leg. 

All the children eventually return and are guided back into the living room for some reading exercises. Now that winter has set in, Anna has decided that we need to catch up on all of the school work that we missed during the construction period. While Anna helps half the younger children with reading, I diligently work through the math and reading exercises that she’s given me. Not that it’ll be of any use, but it’s better than doing nothing. I almost miss the hard labour of the farm. 

Rachel and Anna leave to prepare the big feast. Peter sits next to me and hands me a book, “Do you like comics?”

I shug, “I guess so.”

“Hey, I know that your leg hurts but you have to find joy in something.” he hands me the thin comic.

“I guess so.” I repeat, placing it down on the table. 

Peter lowers his voice, “How did you hurt your ankle?”

“I didn’t.” I say blandly, “Mr. Miller did.”

“Your fingers too?”

“No…I feel down a hill.”

“How far did you get?”

I sigh, “What does it matter? Why are you asking anyway?”

“Just curious.” There’s something peculiar about the way he says it. Peter flips through the comic absentmindedly. 

“Just over the ridge. I don’t know, maybe a few kilometres?”

“That’s pretty far…” Peter muses.

“Not far enough.” I mutter under my breath. 

“How’d they catch you?” Peter pries.

“Dogs.” I open up the book, flipping absentmindedly through the pages. Peter shuts his mouth when Anna comes back into the room calling Sherry for help. She happily skips out of the room. Sophia and Olivia beg to help and Anna caves.

“Peter, it’s getting awfully cold in this room. Be a dear and light the fire please?” Anna asks before leaving.

“Okay Ma.” Peter opens the fireplace and starts to assemble basic kindling made of dried leaves and small sticks. He’s well versed in starting fires because it only takes a few minutes before he has a small fire crackling.

He slides back into his seat beside me, “How did Pa hurt your ankle then?”

My anger comes out of nowhere. I snap back, “Why do you care? You didn’t talk to me for an entire week after my ankle was messed up. You took weeks until you told me what happened in the basement and even then you got quite angry with me when I asked.”

With that Peter is taken back. He leaves to tend the fire and gives me a few moments to calm down. James and the younger ones stare at me, nervousness painted all over their faces. I bury my head into the comic, not really reading any of the words on the pages. 

Peter comes back as soon as the fire grows considerably. The temperature in the room increases and my ankle feels a little bit better. The cold seems to make the feeling worse. 

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I did get angry at you. Only because I was afraid that we’d all get in trouble for telling you what happens in the basement.” Peter eyes the living room doors, “Everyone was told to ignore you that first week you were injured or face going down to the basement.”

It doesn’t make me feel better but I guess I understand where he’s coming from. I was desperately trying to save Oliver from going down into the basement the last time when he spoke to me. Not playing by John’s rules meant discipline - in the most cruel way humanly possible. 

“There were two screws and…” I begin, lowering my voice so that the younger children couldn’t hear me, “One of the volunteers drilled them into my ankle.”

Peter goes pale. His blue eyes slowly look downward to the foot covered with the blue medical sock. 

“And then three of them fucked me.” I say without a filter. He visibly flinches when I spit out the word. 

Peter knows what his father had done to me previously, but I wonder if he actually believes me.

“Does Pa…always touch you? Um, like sex?” Peter asks.

“No.” Which I still don’t really understand. It’s as though he only wants to rape me when I get in trouble.

Something flashes through his eyes, maybe realisation? There have been multiple occasions where John has physically touched me in front of his kids. Most of it was innocent, but the unwanted touch was still present. 

“I thought my Pa only loved my Ma.” Peter says. He’s clearly conflicted. He really doesn’t want to believe that his father would do something like that.

“He sleeps beside me every night.” I say, closing the book and pushing it away, “Your Mom’s pregnant right? They’re not supposed to have sex.”

Peter is quiet. He’s old enough to know the rules. I wonder if Peter knows that his father is more than just a strict parent. I’m hoping he’s beginning to realise that John is a psychopath or a sadist or something. The way he was asking me those questions was almost as if he wanted to disprove his theory of what happened to my battered body and about his own father, but the answer wasn’t what he was expecting.  

Anna calls everyone for supper. There are a couple of tables and chairs set up for additional guests. I wonder what the occasion is for. Every announcement seems to be getting worse and worse it seems…

Jacob carries the new shepherd puppy into the kitchen. The puppy has grown so much in the last little bit. Henry has started to train the two puppies nearly every day. I’m having a hard time getting attached to them after meeting Bella’s snarling snout. 

“Now, now Jay. The puppy can’t come into the kitchen.” Anna scolds softly. He scowls, placing the dog back in the hallway. The front door opens and John and the other workers come in for supper. I notice at that second that Sherry runs up to John and gives him a big hug. She whispers something in his ear and returns to the table. John stares into the kitchen, a soft smile painting his face.

What was that about?

The group files into the room and takes their seats. Ross, his wife, and both female volunteers sit at one table, while all the male volunteers sit at the other. Oliver’s family joins us at our table. I keep my head down. 

“How’s my boy feeling?” John’s large hand ruffles my hair. The word ‘boy’ rattles my very core. I know he doesn’t mean it as if I’m his son. 

“Fine.” I lie. I wish that I could start putting pressure on my foot. The only thing that seems to be really improving is the break in both of my fingers. 

John hums, sitting next to me, placing a hand on my knee. I cautiously watch his body language. Something feels off. John seems content, but my gut is telling me otherwise. Maybe I can appease him somehow? 

My hand lifts off of the table. I really don’t want to but something is telling me I need to. I slowly lower my hand onto my lap, crawling lower and lower down my leg until the tips of my fingers bump into John’s hand. This seems to catch him off guard. I swallow my pride and place my hand on his own. His eyes soften, glancing over at me. 

Before Anna brings the next meal, John begins the prayer. I zone out, ignoring the words all the while I press my damaged foot against the floor. 

“I’d also like to give thanks to my wife who has prepared this wonderful meal. Tonight we celebrate the upcoming wedding of my second eldest daughter and my soon to be son-in-law.” Almost, on que, Rachel and Oliver walk into the room. Anna is dressed in a dark, wine coloured dress. Sequences dazzle in the light. Oliver is wearing a simple grey suit, with a tie and handkerchief that matches the colour of Rachel’s dress.

I forgot about today. I think John had mentioned this during the first few days of my new injury. I barely even recall it. I most likely pushed the thought of the event out of my head because I didn’t want to remember it. That only meant that Oliver would be getting married in a short time from now. 

The room erupts in cheer and clapping. Oliver guides Rachel’s hand around his arm and they walk towards the table awkwardly. Rachel looks unbearably comfortable but Oliver seems a bit more confident than last time. He avoids my stare as he carefully pulls out a chair for Rachel and helps sit her down. She isn’t that pregnant, one couldn’t even tell that she was, and yet he’s acting as if she’s made of glass. He leans down, kisses her on the top of the head and for a split second, his eyes land on me. 

He’s still angry.

Or maybe…he’s come to the realisation that this is his destiny. He always knew that he would be matched up with someone for marriage. It would only be a matter of time. Sure, the time had come sooner than he expected, but he knew it all along. 

Why do I feel so jealous? 

Anna begins to serve us a meal. It’s fancy. Braised duck with a side of green beans coated with a garlic sauce. The salad is a mix of whatever fresh lettuce she had left from the autumn harvest and mixed with fruit and nuts. A generous serving of mashed potatoes and a rich gravy is added to my plate and a special cider is served to all the adults and Oliver and I. I begin drinking it before I touch the meal. John’s hand returns to my leg and I finish the entire mug before my first bite. 

The food tastes amazing. Sherry gives me another cider and tends to the other guests. I drink it fast. I can’t acknowledge why. It’s too painful to think. 

“Now, now. Slow down there.” John presses his fingers against the top of my glass, forcing me to set it back down. When I turn to face him, I feel the dizziness set in.

“Yes sir.” I return to eating my meal. His hand squeezes my own, thumb trailing over my skin. I take a sip of cider after every bite, I’m not sure if John notices that. I’m feeling a little bit buzzed but I want to be drunk. We’re having this well prepared meal because Rachel and Oliver are getting married. They’re getting married!

“William, if you can, I’d like those decorations done by next week.” John asks.

“Sure can do.” the man cheerfully replies behind me. The mere sound of his voice sends shivers down my spine. 

“It’ll be a beautiful wedding, especially with the snow.” Oliver’s father muses. 

John squeezes my hand, “That it will be. It will be perfect.”

The chatter in the dining room increases in volume and I drown myself in drink. John stopped trying to stop me. A few of the volunteers begin playing some instruments they brought into the house and Mary begins to play the piano. I slump forward, resting my head in the crook of my arm, watching Oliver drink and talk with his brothers. I can tell it’s forced, but by the fifth drink, he’s starting to seem less angry and upset and happier. Seems to me like a great way to start a marriage - drowning yourself in liquor and developing a drinking problem. But who am I to talk? I’m just a hypocrite. 

From across the table, a set of blue eyes lock with mine. Peter sips at his drink. He just turned fifteen didn’t he? Kind of early to begin drinking. There’s a faint red haze sprawled across his sun kissed skin. I try to ignore him but his stare drills holes through my skull. 

“What?” I ask sternly. 

Peter quickly looks over to John and back again. I sigh, fishing for my crutches and drunkenly wobbling to my feet. It’s a little difficult but I manage to stand up with the crutches under my armpits.

“Where are you going boy?” John asks suspiciously. I sense a tinge of hostility - probably because I didn’t excuse myself.

“I need to use the bathroom.” 

John stands up, placing a hand on my shoulder, “Should have said somethin’. Peter, help Josh to the bathroom.”

“I’m fine.” I begin slowly hobbling my way across the dining room. I sense Peter following me anyways. One crutch catches the side of the staircase as I pass by it and Peter clumsily manages to steady me from in front. “I said I’m fine.”

“Pa wants me to help you so I have to-”

“Then just watch from afar.” The bathroom on the main floor is behind the staircase and away from the crowd. My head still feels like it’s buzzing as I enter the quiet room. I bounce on one foot, placing the crutches beside the sink and go to close the door. Someone places a hand on the doorknob.

Except it isn’t Peter. 

“Get in the bathroom Peter.” 

“B-but Josh needs to use -”

“Did I stutter?” John hovers over his son, eyes narrow. 

“No…” Peter steps backwards slowly. John follows him, latching the door behind him. His face is rosey, probably from all of the beer he's been throwing back the entire night. I didn't actually need to use the bathroom, I only wanted to get away for a moment to take a breather. 

John doesn't waste any time at all, “Peter, do you remember what I tell you every time we finish in the basement?”

Oh no…how? How does he know? 

Peter stares at me in complete shock. John snaps his fingers and forces the boy to look at him. 

“I'm sorry…” 

“Don't tell me you're sorry.” John snarled, “Tell me what I told you “

I hear Peter gulp, “Not to talk about what happens in the basement.”

“And did you?”

Peter nods, eyes now locked onto his feet. John guns, stalking across the tiled floor and up to me. My leg throbs, I can't take much more torture. I didn't even want to talk to Peter about it. 

“Did you?” There's no point of lying though. I did, even though I didn't want to. Should I defend myself and tell John the truth? Peter is scared, visibly cowering from what's next to come. 

“Yes sir.” John looks drunk, or at least tipsy. Well, I am too but I'm sober enough to know that lying to him will result in punishment. John doesn't respond at first and I almost decide to throw Peter under the bus until I see how pale he's become in the last few seconds. 

John is abnormally calm, “Josh, go and sit on the floor over there.”

He points to the sink. Reluctantly, I hop over and take a seat, sliding onto the ground. John walks forward, only stopping when he towers over me. He has one foot on either side of my outstretched legs. 

“Come here Peter.” He taps the countertop with his palm. The boy slowly creeps up beside us and stands there awkwardly, “Sit on the counter. Since you're so curious, I'll let you watch.” 

Wait. Watch what?!

The moment John begins unzipping his pants, I attempt to push my way out. John grabs me by the hair and yanks me back against the cabinet doors. “Listen boy, we have guests over tonight so let's make this quick. If you do well I won't punish you later.” 

I feel a knot in my throat. He pulls his half hard cock out. Peter turns away. “Peter, this is your punishment, if you don't watch, I'm bringing you down to the basement tomorrow.”

The boy tenses and his head snaps back towards us. John smiles, “Good. Now, since you're curious about what happens between Josh and I, we'll gladly demonstrate.”

His fingers dig into my jaw’s tendons, popping my mouth open. He strokes himself until he's hard and doesn't waste any time shoving it into my mouth. I have at least half of a mind to remind myself to not bite down. John would probably knock out all of my teeth if I did. 

The cock slides deeper into my mouth. When the tip of the head brushes against the back of my throat, my stomach lurches. John chuckles, “Breath through your nose.”

Easy for him to say. John begins slowly thrusting. I don't bother moving at all. The worst thing I could do is put any effort into this. Drool spills out of my mouth and onto my chin and throat. There's a distinct taste of semen on my tongue. 

“Good boy.” John praises. He begins to thrust faster. My jaw is starting to ache and lock up but I don't dare pull away. The faster he comes, the faster I can pretend this never happened. 

He grabs my hand and presses it against his balls. He doesn't need to tell me, I'd better do it or else. Tears prick my eyes as I wrap my fingers around them. I massage the testicles in a way that I would, unfortunately, like. The cock in my mouth hits my throat repeatedly and I'm beginning to find myself unable to breathe. My hands press against his hips, trying to push away but he continues thrusting faster. 

Black dots begin to swim in my eyes. I panic. I try turning my head but he simply tangles both hands into my hair and grunts. Something warm and salty fills my mouth and I realise that he's cumming. Once his dick slowly pulls out of my mouth I gag, splitting his cum on the floor and taking long, uneven breaths until the darkness has just about faded. 

“Next time I'll make you swallow.” John pats my head, praising me in such a disgusting way. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and sit up. John places himself back into his pants. He smirks, “Peter, come here.” 

His son listens without any hesitation. John places both hands on Peter's shoulders from behind. “Josh, look who got excited from your performance.”

My eyes go wide. Peter’s pants are tight. What the fuck? No, he's not going to make me- Peter isn't gay- 

“Why don't you help him out, hm?” John's voice is ridiculously smooth. 

Peter shakes his head, “No Pa, please. I didn't mean to. My body isn't listening to me. I like girls.”

“It's okay Peter. Sometimes you can like girls and boys.” John stares at me from behind his son, “Just like I love your mother and Josh.”

Peter covers his crotch with both hands. His erection isn't going down. It's as if the mere messed up sight of me is turning him on. Like father, like son. 

“Go ahead and try him out.” John encourages, “After you're married and have kids, I can find you someone just like Josh.”

“He doesn't want it.” Peter says. He's right. I don't want this. Thank God Peter has some kind of sensibility in him. 

“Didn't you notice how he didn't fight back?” John pushes him forward a step, “Towards the end yes, but he's still new to it. He doesn't know how to breathe properly. Maybe he just needs more practice.”

John guides him closer, “Josh can't have kids. He doesn't like girls. This is the only way he'll ever be loved.”

Oliver's face flashes through my mind and my heart clenches. If they left us alone, maybe I'd be happy and loved, but they didn't. John is using me and I can't do a damn thing about it. I'm trapped. 

Peter's demeanour suddenly changes. I almost don't even realise during my self wallowing. He steps towards me on his own. No. I want to tell him to stay away but I can't get the words out. He places himself in the same position as his father. His hands drop to his belt. My eyes plead with him to reconsider. 

“Peter, the guests are waiting for us to return.” John gently says. Peter nods unbuckling his belt. I open my mouth to protest but close it when the demeanour on John's face changes. The glare in his eyes disappears when he realises that I'm going to be quiet. 

Peter's face has turned beet red, but he pulls his cock from his pants. He copies his father and digs one hand into my hair. I reluctantly open my mouth and squeeze my eyes shut. Peter's penis is smaller than John's but it's still uncomfortable. 

Peter gasps. I can feel his cock twitching. He begins thrusting in and out of my mouth. Wet, slapping sounds echo off of the bathroom walls. Within a few seconds, he's fucking my mouth. The boy probably hasn't had many sexual experiences, if even any. 

Peter groans and pants and within a very short time he orgasms. Semen fills my mouth. Some slips from around my lips. 

“Josh, swallow.” John commands from beside me. My throat doesn't want to work. Peter's cock is pressing against it. I manage to push back just though for me to force my throat to contract. “Good boy.” 

I feel a pat on my head and Peter pulls himself out of my mouth. John leans down and pats a towel over my face, neck, and chest. My shirt is wet and sticky but he manages to clean it up enough to look presentable. John forces us to return to dinner, pretending as if everything is okay.

Chapter Text

It is already bad enough that John harasses me. Now Peter won't keep his eyes off of me. I catch him staring at me in the living room nonstop. I can tell that he's itching to touch me.  Peter is almost two years younger than me. I should not have been submitting to him. In a twisted way, at least my mind is not focused on Oliver. This whole situation kind of pisses me off.

The rest of supper was humiliating. I know I looked unkempt. My shirt felt dirty and I couldn't stomach dessert. I noticed Oliver sneaking looking my way but I ignored him. When I came out he had been trying to make conversation with Rachel and trying to embrace her. She clearly looked uncomfortable but he didn't get the hint. 

I massage my ankle. The heat from the cracking fire next to me feels good on the joint. I rub my thumb over the skin where the screws lay underneath. I feel a small, but present, bulge. The spot is sore but at least not painful. My foot flexes without pain now and I can put more pressure on it now. I still can't walk on it but I can tell it's getting better each day. 

Except, I know that it'll never feel the same. 

Mary makes us sit at the table in the afternoon to help make decorations for the wedding next weekend. There aren't any flowers in the winter time so we bunch together some pine branches and preserved cranberries. The actual number of attendees will be quite low. Only family and members of the community are invited. 

Anna makes Rachel try on her dress in the backroom. I sit there holding pins for Anna to fit the dress. Rachel holds a soft smile as Anna pulls in parts of the dress. Rachel hasn't really gained much weight but I guess Anna wants to make sure that the dress fits. 

The shimmery sleeves flow around her long arms. A delicate looking flower neckline holds the dress up around her shoulders. The dress hugs her waist and chest but flows outwards and down to the floor. I can't help but notice how miserable she looks. If I could feel anything towards her, I'd be her husband. She doesn't deserve any of this. She never did. 

Anna looks through her basket full of needles and thread, “Oh, I'll be right back, I'm missing the white thread.”

Rachel watches her leave and right away turns to me, “Oliver has been acting weird. Like he actually wants to marry me.”

I shrug, “Maybe he had a change of heart.”

“No way. Up until a week ago, he kept talking about how much he misses you and how he wishes that things could be different.” Ouch. That hurts. “He was very upset that you pushed him away like that.”

“I was just trying to protect him.” I say.

“I know, but don't you think it was a little harsh?” She plops herself down on Anna's sewing chair. 

“I had to be. How didn't he see how dangerous it was to talk at that moment? Anna was in the room next door.” 

“You're right, he's just sensitive…” Rachel twirls a piece of her short golden hair. 

“I'm sorry. I didn't know that he'd take it out on you.” I flex my right foot, “Mr. Miller shouldn't have pulled you into this. I don't understand why he did that.”

Rachel straightens up, eyes locked on the door. “It's because I almost told you Pa's plans.”

“Plans?”

“Remember? During Mary's wedding?” She imitates walking with her fingers, “We were dancing and I told you that Pa was going to build a community. I think he didn't want anyone else to know at that time.”

Oh yeah, I almost forgot about that,  “He sure puts on a good act. He made it sound like I was trying to make some moves on you.”

A small but genuine smile grows on her face, “Of course not. As if you’d ever see me more than a sister.”

I grin, “You’re damn right.”

“You know, I think there’s a little more to what’s happening around the farm.” I was wondering if Rachel had her suspicions. 

“Same here. A few weeks ago I overheard Mr. Miller and some other men talking about it. They were talking about construction and then your father started talking about holding back showing the children something . There's something that he shows the adults and we can’t see what that is until after we've become adults.” my voice lowers, “Do you know anything about this?”

“No, not really. Ma doesn't talk about it either. She acts like everything is normal. All I know is that I overheard Pa talking about building some kind of compound and that we'd all live together. I am beginning to have a feeling that I know why though.”

“What's that?”

“Pa recently had been having an issue with the church's teachings. I noticed a few months before we stopped going. He'd go up to the church leader and have long conversations with him. Pa asked a lot of questions, taking up a bunch of church leader's time, and didn't seem very happy about the responses. I always watched from afar but I could hear bits and pieces, enough to know that he was drilling the poor fellow.” Rachel explains, “I think my father wants to build his own church.”

“I kind of gathered that.” I shrug, “But why is the sermons different from the old church we attended? Do you know what Nova is?”

“I don't.” Rachel shakes her head, “And I don't think Pa wants to just have his own physical building, I think he wants to have his own religion.”

“Ok good. I'm not the only person who suspects it. Where do you think he gets this idea from. It's not like he's a prophet-”

I shut my mouth. Anna is coming down the stairs. Rachel stands back up and scuttles over to the small window and leans her head outside just in time for Anna to enter the room. “Don't put your arms on the windowsill dear, it's dirty.”

Rachel nods and stands in position, remaining as calm as possible. She must know that Anna is in on everything too. And in that moment I realise that she's one of the only trustworthy people in this house. She either doesn't want to get caught or is a great actor and I doubt that it's the latter. She's been through too much to want to rat me out for talking. 

“Josh, can you please go over to Mr. Becker's house and ask Ms. Becker for some silver and opal sequences?” Mary asks, handing me a small bag. 

“Sure.” I grab my crutches and begin making my way out of the house. There's a shovelled path that the boys dug early this morning. It's been snowing buckets all week and it was getting too deep for some of the younger children to walk through. It hasn't been cold over the last few days though, the volunteers - recruits are more like it - have been working hard on the last two homes. How they manage to build these so quickly is beyond me. 

A few doors down, I stop at Ross' house. I knock on the door and wait. It's sometime in the afternoon and I know that he's not home. That in itself is less stressful. 

A woman I've only seen at church opens the door. Behind huge, round lenses is a tired, aged face. She's supposedly younger than Ross but the stress of being married to him has taken a toll to her youth. Her black hair is tied back in a messy bun. Flour covers the front of her apron. 

“Oh hello.” Her voice is weak, almost brittle. Completely opposite of Anna's. “Joshua right?”

“Hi. Um, yeah. That's me ma'am. Anna is wondering if she can use some of your sequences?” she smiles, motions for me to enter. 

“Yes, how about you have a seat in the kitchen while I find them.” I carefully place my crutches through the door and hop up into the entranceway. No wonder the houses went up so quickly. The place is pretty small and plain. Upon entering the house, there's a small kitchen on the left separated by a staircase and a living room to the right. A fire rages in the kitchen and living room. 

“What colours do you need hun?” She opens a small cabinet near the dining room table. 

“Silver and opal.” I take a seat next to the warm oven. I can smell something sweet baking. 

“Did she say how many?” Ross' wife pulls out two small containers. 

“No ma'am, but it's for Rachel's dress.” I think she's making cinnamon buns. 

“Ah that's okay. How about I just give you the entire container? Anna can give it back to me later.” I pull out the bag that Anna gave to me and let her place the two small glass containers into it. Just before she places them in the bag, I notice her fingers. Two on each hand haven't set properly. The middle and ring finger bend away from each other. 

Without thinking I say, “I’m sorry about your fingers.”

She immediately steps back, dropping the sequences into my bag. “It's n-not your fault honey.”

Her dark brown eyes darts over to the oven. She grabs her oven mitts and pulls out a pan. She definitely made cinnamon buns. 

“I just…” I trail off. She feels uncomfortable. Why? Is she embarrassed or is it something else? I wonder….

“I'm sorry I couldn't stop him.” Mrs. Becker turns around slowly. 

“You saw…didn't you?” She whispers and rushes to the nearest window, shutting the blinds. The lady leans against the counter, chest heaving.

“Um, please don't worry. I'm not going to tell anyone. I promise.” 

She peeks through the blinds. “You know what we could get punished for talking right?”

I gulp, “I know.”

Mrs. Becker begins cutting up the cinnamon buns, “What would you like to know?”

I think for a moment, I haven’t had a chance to ask any questions about John’s new beliefs. I remember the reason why Ross began torturing his wife and decide that it’s a good place to start, “Did Mr. Becker really break your fingers because he thought you’d tell others about Mr. Miller’s books?”

She stops, pulling off the oven glove and examining her fingers, “Yes. John and Ross were adamant to keep everything quiet until things were ready here. It’s easier to control everything once you can self sustain yourself. They, to some degree, know what they’re getting into will seem insane to some people and they expect pushback.”

“What exactly is Nova?” I ask.

“It’s a new religion. I don’t know much. I didn’t go through the initiation like the new men and women did, partially because Ross asked me to prepare the house. During the next one, I will be a part of it. Ross made sure of it.” She places a few rolls into containers, “I know that they believe in a God that John has seen with his very eyes. I know that they have some strange beliefs-”

“-like polygamy?”

She casts her eyes down, “Yes. Ross tends to keep me in the dark but I do know that is something that drew him to the religion. He is very adamant on finding a second wife because…well, I’m sure you heard.”

“I’m sorry…” She speaks so softly, Ross must have broken her down over the years.

“Please, there’s no need to apologise.” She drags a bowl closer to her and begins filling a large, white bag full of white icing, “I tried to tell someone in town but I was so hysterical that they didn’t believe me. I couldn’t keep calm because Ross had sprung the idea of a second wife so unexpectedly that I couldn’t handle it. Ross overheard and well…that’s how I ended up in the basement. It’s such a terrible place down there. I don’t know why those new followers have any interest in Nova.”

“I’ve been to the basement too.” I flex my ankle, “I know how you feel.”

“I know.” She squeezes the bag, out of the other hand, icing is sent through a cone shaped metal tip and onto the pastry, “Ross often tells me how great John’s children respond to punishment and that’s why they are so obedient.” 

“It’s traumatising more like it…” I mutter, “You talked about the initiation, what exactly is that?”

“John apparently brings new followers down to see something . Whether it be a sign from his God or God itself, I have no idea. All that I know is that once you see it, you’re convinced that Nova is the right path. Honestly, I am scared. I don’t know what to expect and I’m worried what will happen if I don’t think Nova is the right path after the initiation.” She finishes applying the icing to the cinnamon buns and begins to seal the containers.

“When is the next initiation?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think you can…tell me about it after you go?” I might as well try. I’m not seventeen until the spring of the new year and it’ll still be a year. I want to prepare myself as soon as I can.

“I’ll see if I’m in the right capacity, but no promises.” She begins handing me some containers when the front door opens. “Here take these to Mrs. Miller. They’ve just been baked.”

She helps fill my bag along with the sequences as Ross enters the room. There’s almost a look of disgust until he catches sight of me sitting on the chair. I can feel my pulse immediately sky rocket. 

“Mmm, freshly baked cinnamon buns hm?” He stands a few feet away from me, “Shouldn’t you be helping out Anna?”

“She wanted me-” I clear my throat nervously, “to get some sequences from Mrs. Becker for Rachel’s dress.”

He eyes me suspiciously, the scar on his face twisting along with his eyebrows. Mrs. Becker finishes filling my bag and zips it up. She places it on my shoulders and helps me to my feet. He doesn’t back up when I begin walking with my crutches. I swear I can feel the heat off of his body as I pass by him but he allows me to leave without any incident. 

Chapter Text

I put weight on my leg for the first time in weeks. I can feel how weak it is. My ankle wobbles from side to side. The muscles have deteriorated in such a short time. John gave me a cane to walk in the meantime until I can support myself. I try not to think about it when I’m alone, it only makes me feel hopeless.

It’s a bit easier getting around with the cane. With the crutches, I had to walk in pace with each of them and the pegs routinely were stuck in the snow. My leg feels stiff as I make my way through the packed snow and to the church. The air is freezing cold. My ears are numb by the time I complete the short walk from the house and to the newest building. 

I hobble my way to the front of the church. As usual, Anna saves a seat beside her and I’m forced to sit close to both John and Oliver. 

“I’d like to welcome our newest members.” I slowly turn my head and notice a few benches behind me - normally empty during every sermon - filled. I quickly count - it looks like there’s ten new faces. It takes me a second, but one of those new people is a younger boy around my age. “Thank you for choosing Nova. As mentioned during our meeting, we don’t have room to board all of you in our new lodging but we can see where we can fit you for the time being. As soon as Winter is over, we will ensure you have a place of your own. We always make sure that your needs are taken care of so that you don’t have to worry about yourselves.”

I thought that there wasn’t room for more followers. Where is he going to put them? Maybe he’ll put them in the attic with me like last time. I do like the sound of that. He’ll leave me alone then.

“Let us begin the practice by holding the hands of the neighbour next to one another.” I reach my hands out, Anna’s soft, warm hands holding my right. My left hand reaches out to the air beside me. John walks up to me, grabbing Ross’ hand and mine, holding a pose in the middle of the aisle. 

“Let us thank the Eternal for watching over us, allowin’ us to be together. We are grateful that our family is ever expanding. It’s to you that we have to thank for that.” John continues rambling on. I glance over at Anna. Her entire being is relaxed and she has a soft smile on her face. The crinkles of her eyes grow as she watches John speak. How in the hell is she okay with all of this happening? Was she at one of these initiations? 

I look back to the front of the church. John locks his eyes with mine. He continues to speak about how the whole community is thankful for all that ‘the Eternal’ gives them. What is ‘the Eternal’? 

“In order to ensure that we are living up to Nova’s intended way of life, we will be making a few adjustments. First, we will rid our homes of books that do not follow the teachings of the Eternal. Any fictional stories, political pieces, or history books need to be removed. We will be supplying all members our own doctrine and teach the language written within.” 

This is strange. A few of John’s children seem to look at him in disbelief - most notably Peter. He was reading comics just yesterday. Surely those would be removed from the living room. 

“Second.” John holds up two fingers, “We will have designated members who will focus on trade outside of our community. We need to limit any threat to our members. There are people who will harm our most vulnerable. The outside doesn’t understand what we believe. Only people who are ready to embrace Nova should be let in.” 

“Three: we will begin wearing clothing approved by the Eternal. With the exception of special events, we will wear the clothing as required. Men will wear light coloured trousers and long sleeved button up shirts during work time. The shoes will not change at this time. Women will wear cloth over their hair and a simple, light colored dress. My wife Anna has been working with Ms. Becker and Ms. Hunter on these dresses and I have personally approved their design. All three women will assist the ladies on the proper hair covering procedures. During rest and recreational periods, all members will wear a long throbe. It will cover your body shoulder to ankles, so when indoors, members will not need to wear extra clothing underneath. The exception to this is if the season is winter - then members can wear warm clothing underneath.”

Out of all the items John rambles off, the clothing bothers me the most. I don’t want to essentially wear nothing but my underwear under a robe. It’ll make me feel…exposed. Unless that’s the point?

John rambles through his sermon, taking more time than he did last weekend. He approaches me and asks me to stand. Hesitantly, I get to my feet. “Please, everyone stand and embrace the person next to you.”

Awkwardly, I am sandwiched between Anna and John. I feel their arms embrace me. It lasts a little longer than I feel comfortable with. Fortunately, John and Anna release their hold and turn to others to hug other members. I watch the people around me doing exactly what John asked of them. Smiles, looking all too real, paint their faces as they exchange pleasantries. 

Someone hugs me unexpectedly. As his chest hits my own, I realise who they are. Peter wraps his arms tightly around my shoulders and whispers, “I’m sorry about the other day.”

I freeze in place. I want to push him away but I know that if I do, John will know something is off. In a very low voice I whisper, “I won’t forgive you.”

“But-”

“You were right. I didn’t want it and you did it anyway.” I notice John talking to the newcomers. He looks over at us and I quickly return the hug. John smiles.

“I-I didn’t want to get in trouble. If I didn’t…” Peter stutters.

“If you didn’t open your mouth in the first place, you wouldn’t have got either of us in trouble.” John leads the newest member, a boy with light, brown hair and dark brown eyes away from the others. I drop my arms away from Peter and step back. As they approach, I notice that the boy has a sling around his neck and his arm in a cast. 

“Peter. Josh. This is Milo.” the boy offers an awkward smile, “He’ll be staying with us from now on.”

He places a hand on his cast, averting his eyes. Peter and I greet him with a lack of enthusiasm. 

“Go ahead, let’s show each other that we’re welcoming.” John guides Milo towards me, “Joshua, Peter, you know what to do.”

I bite my lip to prevent me from sighing and just do what I know that he wants me to do. My right foot twinges when I take a step forward but it’s slight enough for me to ignore. I’m not sure why, but the act of actually wrapping my arms around a complete stranger ignites a fire in my chest. I can feel the tips of my ears turn red. He isn’t returning the hug.

Peter reaches around from behind me, sandwiching me between them. I can feel Milo begin to pull away. John places one hand on my shoulder and the other on the new kid’s back, “See? We love our new members. No need to be worried.” 

Milo’s body is stiff. The muscles in his shoulders are tense and I can hear his breathing get heavy. 

“Now then…” John releases us both. Let us conclude this sermon and return to our warm homes. My daughters Mary and Rachel will help distribute the new clothing so that you can begin wearing them today. We will continue to work over the winter to make sure that each member has multiple changes of clothing.”

The church begins to empty. Milo twists away from my loose hold. His face is beet red. 

“Sorry…” I whisper under my breath, shaking Peter’s arms off my shoulders and grabbing my cane. How I didn’t realise that I was holding him still is beyond me. Maybe I’m tired. Or hungry. 

“Josh.” I freeze at the sound of the voice. A warm, soft scarf wraps around my neck. John leans down and ruffles my hair, “You looked cold.”

Milo stares at us as he walks by. I do my best to keep my eyes on the ground, “Thank you sir.”

“You’re welcome.” he pats my back. 

I am the last person to enter the house due to my ankle. John finds spots for three of the new members in his house. One of them is in my old bedroom on the boy’s floor and another is in Mary’s old bedroom on the girls floor. Milo is placed in the attic with me. I’m not sure why he isn’t staying with his parents, but I don’t bother asking for my own safety.

Anna gives me new clothing. It’s like John said: a long, white throbe. It’s soft but thin. I peel down to my underwear and pull it over my head. It’s spacious and more comfortable than I thought. In the middle of the chest is a half finished ‘A’ sewn in with silver threading. The same symbol that was on the book covers down in the basement. 

I pull on some thick socks and sit down on my cot. The new boy’s cot is only a foot away from my own. It reminds me of the time when the first newcomers joined and had nowhere to sleep but the attic. At least there’s only one in here. 

Milo is also sitting on his bed, facing away from me. He’s hunched over, cradling his arm. I don’t know why John specifically chose him to be my new roommate. I’m not sure if it’s a test or if there’s something more sinister. It’s best if I ignore him in the meantime.

I head downstairs and notice that the mainroom is oddly quiet. My cane taps against the hardwood floor and I begin to think that everyone left when I notice something happening in the living room. Next to John is a pile of books. Almost all of the shelves they used to lay on are empty now. John, Anna, and two of the new members are ripping pages out a few at a time and throwing them into the fire. A few of the children stand behind them with tears in their eyes. The younger ones watch but don’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation.

It doesn’t take them long to finish destroying the literature and closing the wood stove door. John doesn’t say anything to his children and leaves the room. He pats me on the head, “How about a drink, hm?”

I follow him. No need to piss him off. 

“The new clothing looks good, doesn’t it?” He runs a hand down my back. The two new followers - a man and a woman - nod enthusiastically. I notice that John isn’t wearing the clothing though. Why?

As we sit down at the table, more members come into the house and Anna returns to the kitchen with Rachel and Sherry. They too are wearing their new clothing and a piece of fabric covering their hair completely. The women return to the kitchen and they immediately begin working on a meal and bringing John alcohol. I’m poured a drink straight from the bottle. An ice cube is dropped into the golden liquid and a small bowl of snacks placed in front of me. 

I consider leaving the drink alone. The rest of the table is served the same drink from the same bottle, so I consider it safe. I sip the drink slowly, just like the rest of the men, until I feel a warm sensation build in my stomach. I snack to prevent myself from getting drunk.

The men around me appear to be happy. I don’t understand how they are. Most of them are cramped in a small cabin with several other men. Each of them has that stupid throbe on over some thicker clothing. Even the brand new members are wearing it. 

“Josh, where’s your new roommate?” John calls, touching my arm in the process. My stomach churns.

“I think…he’s still in the room.” I lower my gaze to watch his thumb caress my arm. 

“Go and fetch him.” John smiles, “He shouldn’t be missing out on this.”

I leave the table. Anything to get away from him. It takes me a while to reach the top floor again but when I do, I can see that Milo hasn’t moved from his spot. He lay on the cramped cot on his side, staring at the wall. He hasn’t changed into his new outfit. 

“Mr. Miller wants you to come down.” I say. 

Milo doesn’t answer, he raises a hand to his thick brown locks and massages the top of his head. I feel a little bit annoyed that he doesn’t want to answer or even acknowledge me.

“They’re going to give you alcohol and snacks.” I wait. When he doesn’t respond again I sigh, “Look, it’s better if you come down. Believe me, you don’t want to make him angry.”

Milo sits up abruptly, eyes locked onto me, “And what will he do?”

I gulp, looking behind me, almost expecting John to be there. “I can’t…”

I’m turning into his children. If I say anything, John will skin me alive, but if I don’t tell him, the poor bastard won’t know what he’s getting into. There has to be a way to convince him without actually telling him what the basement is for. I shift onto my good ankle, “See my leg?”

He nods.

“Let’s just say this is what happened when I disobeyed.” A knot forms in my throat, “So, come downstairs.”

Milo takes a moment to contemplate his options, but ultimately gets to his feet. “And put on the robe. Everyone else is wearing it.” 

I wait for him by the door, tapping my cane on one of the loose floorboards. In the corner of my eye I watch him struggle pulling his shirt over the cast on his arm. 

“How’d you break it?” I ask, trying to break the awkward silence.

“Screw off.” Milo snaps. The haze I felt in my head over the last few weeks suddenly clears. He stomps up to me and shunts me to the side.

“What the-” I stumble back nearly falling. He takes off down the stairs before I can say anything. Fuming, I make my way back to the kitchen. I almost don’t smell the delicious aroma of a duck being slowly cooked and the tantalising smell of freshly cooked bread. My ankle feels a bit sore now from walking too quickly. Milo is sitting one seat away from John, next to Oliver. Seeing him encourages the depression to slowly take a hold of my mind again. 

“Josh, come join us.” John pats the seat next to him. I obey and sit next to him. “Good job for bringing your roommate down to the dining room.” 

He strokes my hair. My entire being goes rigged. A few of the men begin staring at me, at John’s affection. The hair on my arms raises. 

"You’ve been such a good boy.” John praises, “I’ve gotten you something.”

He takes my right hand and pulls something out of his pocket. My vision blurs in anticipation. I take a deep breath as inconspicuous as possible. John pulls out a thick, golden chain and wraps it around my wrist. I look at him in disbelief. Why?

“Do you like it?” he taps his fingers on one of the links.

I lie, “Yes. Thank you sir.”

“Good.” John grins, “You deserve it.”

The man leans in and softly kisses me on the temple. I feel my face turn red. The men who were previously staring return to their conversations as if nothing had happened. I don’t dare even glance at Oliver through my peripherals. John is treating me like a girlfriend on the side. I can’t, I don’t want to know what Oliver thinks of this. 

Milo’s face softens, staring at John and I. He grabs a drink and downs it. And the next and the next. I suppose I would need to have a few drinks if I saw that public display of affection too…

Anna serves a nice roasted duck with mashed potatoes and pickled beets. The table of men begins to become more rowdy as the night wears on but that doesn’t seem to bother her. She eats with the women and serves a nice pudding dessert when the men finish their meal. I’m on my fifth drink when John finally shifts his focus back on me, “Josh, I thought that you and your roommate could bond over having something in common.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Milo is an orphan like you.” John ruffles my hair. The mere utterance of the word ‘orphan’ turns my whole body numb. Without any restraint, I turn to Milo. His eyes are trained on the drink in front of him, not moving a muscle. His face is tense and angry. 

“You need a friend.” John laughs, “But don’t get too friendly. We don’t want a repeat incident now do we?”

I want to snap back at him and ask him what he means by that, but I don’t. Even though he has had a lot to drink, there is no way he won’t forget that I raised my voice to him. 

Anna finishes clearing off the table and rushes the young ones to bed. She serves Milo and I two more drinks before heading to bed herself. My head feels fuzzy now. Shoot, I’m drunk. Why did I drink this much? 

A few of the men move back to their houses as the hour wears on. I sip on one of the two remaining drinks and watch John, Ross, and a few other members play card games. The pegs on a small board are moved every time someone wins a round. I’ve never bothered to ask them what they are playing or how it works. I just focus on trying to finish my drinks and be excused from the table. I’ve come to realise that John won’t let me leave until he verbally tells me. And knowing him, he’ll let me leave when I finish my drinks.

“Think I’ll head in for tonight.” Oliver’s dad signals for his son to follow. He heads out with his head bowed down like a kicked puppy. 

“Can I be excused?” Milo’s rough voice suddenly asks. 

“Finish yer drinks first.” John commands,not bothering to look up from his hand of cards.

“I’m not thirsty.” Milo grumbles.

“You can sit there until you’re done then.” John frowns, placing a card down, “Or if Josh finishes your share.” 

I’m getting pretty drunk. My stomach is full and I can’t drink anymore. I’m just finishing up my own share. I swiftly respond, “I don’t have room for yours. I’ll get sick if I drink anymore.” 

Milo grabs his glass angrily, gulping down its entire contents and slamming it down on the table. My stomach jumps into my throat, expecting John to respond but he doesn’t. He’s lost in conversation with the men he’s playing with. I want to say something to Milo - warn him - but with John literally a few inches away, I don’t think it’s a good idea. 

“Mr. Miller…” I call out, “Can I be excused.”

He looks past me, examining Milo, “Once he’s finished. I want him to help you upstairs.”

Milo sighs heavily, lifting the cup to his lips. I’m beginning to feel a surge of anxiety built inside of me. I don’t know why I’m feeling this way. Maybe because what happened last time I was drunk? John seems preoccupied with his game though and hasn’t made any physical moves on me. 

I watch the boy with brown eyes finally finish his portion and I immediately get to my feet. Milo doesn’t really help, he just stands there awkwardly until I pass him. We return to our room and he tears off his clothing and shuffles under his bed covers. 

“You shouldn’t try to upset him.” I whisper, laying down on my bed.

“I don’t care.” Milo mutters, “I don’t want to be here.”

“You and me both-” I hear a creak from downstairs and sit up. My ears strain to hear the soft steps of someone coming up the staircase. I knew it. I knew he was getting me drunk for something. I feel the air leave my lungs quickly. 

The door to the room creaks open slowly. I pull the bed covers up to my chin. A long black shadow runs across the wooden floor boards. My body begins to quiver and break out into a cold sweat. John stands at the end of my bed, cowboy hat casting a shadow on his face. Out of the corner of my eye I see Milo flip over and freeze. His mouth opens but no words come out. John glances over at him and puts a finger to his lips.

Then he walks over to my side of the bed, placing one knee at a time onto the mattress. He leans down and brushes his lips against my cheek, “Be quiet.”

I gulp, closing my eyes tightly. He rips the duvet off my body. I feel a set of teeth on my earlobe. His hand immediately grabs me by my dick and I gasp, “P-please not in front of-”

“Hm? You never had an issue with it before.” John chuckles, glancing over at Milo, “Each and every time you were fucked you had someone watchin’ remember? And you didn’t care that you sucked off Oliver in front of an audience.”

I know Milo and I have only known each other for a few hours, but the humiliation already begins creeping in. It’s like an outsider has been exposed to our dirty laundry and the desensitisation has reversed course. To hear that I’ve been involved with multiple men without any context will allow him to make his own judgements about me. I don’t know why that bothers me so much but it does. 

“Heh, maybe Milo will be interested in you when we’re done - just like Peter.” 

Something snaps Milo to life, “A-as if.” He scowls. 

“Really?” John raises to his feet and walks over to Milo, “You’re just like him. Almost down to the very detail.”

Milo’s eyes go wide. He shakes his head, “No, I’m not.”

I’m confused. What does John mean by that? 

John places hands on both of his hips and leans down towards Milo. “I suppose you’re right. There is one thing that sets you two apart. Now, as long as you keep your mouth shut, you can watch. If not - there’ll be punishment.”

Milo doesn’t say anything. He is frozen in place, watching as John returns to me. My chest begins to tighten as he crawls back on top of me. I feel sick when he begins to kiss me. I want to push away but I’m terrified of the consequences. 

“Now what should we do tonight?” John strokes the side of my face, “Ah, I know.” 

He reaches down and pulls the robe up and over my chest. My underwear is ripped off of my body and thrown across the room. John gets naked from the waist down and lines up his dick with mine. 

“Liquors too strong for you huh?” he grabs me and begins stroking. It’s hard to feel any semblance of arousal. Last time it was easier because of the drugs. This time, not so much. I am not attracted to this monster, “If you can’t get hard then I’ll just fuck you.”

“No I’ll-” I scramble, “I’ll get it up. Please don’t make me do that .” 

I try to think of something, anything, to make me feel excited. I try to think of Oliver - before the pregnancy happened - but I can’t feel anything. The attraction I once felt for him is gone. The sudden realisation swells my eyes with tears. John was actually successful - he ruined my connection with Oliver. 

John’s hand doesn’t stop moving but my dick remains flaccid in his hands. The smile falls from his face, “Looks like I’ll have to.”

“Please, nothing but that.” I beg. He slaps a hand over my mouth.

“Too loud.” he grumbles. He removes his hand and begins bending my legs until they reach my chest. 

“No please!” my voice hitches again and he slaps me hard across the face. My cheek throbs from the stinging sensation of being struck.

“What did I just say boy?” the tears spill from my eyes. He threatens to hit me again when a squeak leaves my throat. I recoil with terror. I thought that John would only fuck me if I misbehaved. I didn’t think he’d do this to me unless I was in the basement.  And I don’t know why, but I look at Milo desperately. 

There’s a look that I can’t quite place on his face as he watches John reach down and prod my ass with his fingers. The digit pushes through the tight ring of my ass and wiggles its way through. A second finger begins shoving its way inside, stretching and spreading my insides until all I can feel is burning. He pulls his hand back and pumps his dick again.

“Come suck it or I’m shoving it in dry.” he doesn’t need to say anymore. I scramble to my knees and put it in my mouth. I drool all over his cock, trying to cover every portion of it before John decides he’s had enough. Through a drunken haze, I reach behind me, fingering myself. The spit from the blowjob covered my fingers with enough that I could enter myself without hurting myself too badly. It doesn’t feel good. I am only doing this so it doesn’t hurt more than I know that it will. 

John knocks me back onto the bed and lifts my legs. He nestles in between my thighs and begins pushing into my ass. I cover my mouth and try my hardest to not make a noise. Red, hot pain builds inside me. I don’t think the spit worked. It probably dried before he had a chance to put it in. 

I can’t look at John’s face. He’s lost in a sea of pleasure and drunkenness. I’m sobering up fast from the pain. It hurts so damn much. Tears trickle down my cheeks and onto the pillow. My eyes dart around the room, trying to look at anything that can distract me from the searing pain. I watch Milo turn away, curling into a ball on his cot. 

John’s hits finally hit the back of my thighs. He takes a breather, spitting into the part that connects out two bodies, and then begins thrusting in an ungodly speed. As the pain hits my threshold, I sink my teeth into the flesh of my right forearm. The skin rips the same moment something inside of me breaks. Something warm drips onto the bed and I already know what it is. 

The bed begins to creak and I thank whatever is up in the heavens that no one is below us. It would kill me to know that anyone else in the house knew what is happening to me in this moment. The sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room. For some reason I look over at Milo, who hasn’t moved since he curled up into a little cocoon. 

“Fuck.” John swears, cumming inside of me. His fingers dig into my hips. The orgasm is long. His dick pulses, spilling his seed inside my body. Eventually he pulls out. His dick is covered in dark, red blood. He doesn’t seem to be alarmed and wipes it off with a handkerchief. I flinch when he gives me a final kiss, “Good boy, I’ll come clean ya up later.”

He leaves and I wait but he never returns, leaving me to sleep in my own waste. Milo doesn’t move from his spot for the rest of the night. I nearly get no sleep, my back throbbing and insides burning. 

Chapter Text

White, shimmering laces hang down from the church’s ceiling. Fake white and red flowers span the length of the pews down the centre of the aisle. A deep, purple carpet is laid down from the entrance to the front of the building. A pair of doves sit in a golden cage near a newly constructed altar. 

Oliver stands at the front of the church, hands resting in front of him, watching for his soon-to-be bride. He has a soft smile on his face, almost like he’s anticipating Rachel with glee. He’s dressed in a dark, grey suit jacket, a red tie that matches the church’s flowers, and a white dress shirt. His brothers stand beside him, dressed almost as nicely as him. 

I loosen my tie slightly. It’s so hot in here and it’s sort of difficult to breathe. John has me right as close to the front as possible. Anna sits at the end and I sit between her and Milo. As the time ticks by, I feel more and more confined. My chest hurts, aches. I don’t know. I want to get out of here but I know that John is waiting near the entrance.

Suddenly everyone stands up. Music begins playing. Oliver’s face lights up as his eyes catch something behind me. I cast my eyes to the ground just as Rachel and John reach the front of the church. I can’t handle this. 

“We come here today to celebrate the union of Oliver Hunter and Rachel Miller. In the eyes of the Eternal, it will be recognised that these two young lovers will become one.” John announces. As he speaks about the impending union, his voice becomes fuzzier and fuzzier. I almost don’t notice that we need to sit until Anna grabs my arm and guides me back. My eyes wearily look up at the two, holding hands as John speaks the dreaded words, “You may now kiss your wife Oliver.”

I can see it in Rachel’s eyes. She doesn’t want to, but she does it anyway. They press their lips together and the entire church erupts in cheer. All except for me. Even though I no longer feel any urges towards Oliver, the connection we had, even as friends has been obliterated. The pain I feel inside is insurmountable. 

The rest of the church follows Rachel and Oliver out of the building and to the main house for snacks. A few men stay behind to stack the pews and help lay out the tables for dinner and two women to decorate the dinner table centrepieces. I take my sweet time getting back to the house where beers are being handed out.

I sit in the living room by myself while everyone else sings and drinks in anticipation for the big dinner. I throw a couple of logs into the fire and poke it with a metal prod. Then, for some reason Milo comes into the room.

“Hey.”

“What?” I snap. I’m not in the mood for conversation, especially to someone who just tried to ignore what happened to me a few nights ago. I know if he tried to intervene that he’d just get punished but why did he have to pretend like he was turning a blind eye to the situation? 

“Um..” He scratches the back of his neck, “How are you feeling after…everything?”

I roll my eyes, “What? Being fucked or watching Oliver getting married?”

If I was truthful, my insides feel better. I thought that it would hurt for longer because of the amount of blood that I saw. Fortunately for me, the injury wasn’t too bad and it only took a couple of days to recover. Even the bite mark on my arm is already healing, but I feel so ashamed that it happened in front of him - a complete and utter stranger. 

Milo leaves and I think he’s just about given up on me until he returns with two mugs of beer, “Here.”

“Not really in the mood to drink.” I mutter, focusing all my time and energy into tending the fire.

He sits the beer beside me and watches the fire. There’s a moment of significant, uncomfortable silence before he speaks, “Look…I’m not great at saying these things but I’m sorry I was an asshole to you. I just really don’t want to be here.”

I shrug. I don’t really care that he’s trying to apologise. He’s the furthest thing from my mind right now and I want to keep it that way. 

“You want to know how it happened right?” He raised his arm, “How I broke it?”

“I don’t really care anymore.” I mutter, grabbing the beer off of the ground and gulping it down.

“I’m sure you want to get your mind off today.” he reaches his glass out. I roll my eyes and clink my glass against his. “I was always looked over so I spent a lot of time with the caretakers. Frustrating so I guess I acted out. Took their motorcycle out and took it out for a joyride. Except, I don’t have great balance.”

“So, you crashed it.” I state blandly.

“I took a ramp to jump a car and…yeah I crashed it.” A huge grin grows on his face, “Totally worth the shit I got myself into.”

“Uh huh. And did you impress John - er, Mr. Miller with that?”

The smile disappears from his face. He checks over his shoulder to see everyone still enjoying themselves in the kitchen and dining room. The artery in his neck is throbbing in an unnatural beat. “No. I don’t know why he adopted me.”

I return to tending the fire. It’s exhausting trying to make conversation with someone, but at the same time, I’m curious. Why did John adopt someone else? Is he getting tired of me or is he just not satisfied?

“What was it like when he came and picked you up?” I ask.

“Pretty uneventful. He came alone, saying that his wife couldn’t come because she was sick or something. He didn’t say much to me. We picked up a couple other people on the way and we came to church.” Milo finishes his drink, that’s when I notice that his eyes aren’t both brown. One is hazel and the other brown. I try not to stare too much and return my focus on the burning log, “I remember him coming the first time though. Asked to see what boys were there. He said he needed some help around the farm and he needed someone strong. I was the oldest so it makes sense that he picked me.”

I sneak another look quickly. He’s a lot bigger than Oliver. A bit taller and a lot less lanky. He could almost take John on if he grew a few more inches. 

“That’s why they said they wanted me.” I mutter, thinking back to that first day I ever saw John, “Now I wonder if that was really the case.”

Milo bites his lip, “Did he…uh…do that to you from the start?”

I shake my head, “No. It happened after I kissed Oliver. It’s a long story.”

Anna calls us all out to the hallway and gives each of us a portion of food to bring out to the church. Oliver and Rachel stay behind. Milo sticks beside me and I can’t help but notice that Peter does too. That little pervert. 

Several round tables covered with white table clothes were placed within the hall. Where they even came from is beyond me. There are small bunches of flowers in the centre of each table, along with a silver number. Plates, red napkins, and cutlery were placed carefully by the women before we arrived. 

Anna escorts us to our seats after we set down the food. Along one of the longest walls are long, skinny tables. Various kinds of foods are covered but ready to be eaten. At the very end in the corner, are a few small pies and cheesecakes. The aroma of smoked meat hangs in the air and for once I feel hungry. Maybe I’ll just drink and eat this feeling I have away. This empty feeling - like I lost a part of myself. 

Peter attempts to sit beside me but I growl, “Don’t you dare sit there.”

I don’t think he expected me to snap at him and jumps up. Milo squeezes beside him and takes the empty seat. Maybe he isn’t so bad after all…

“Didn’t Rachel look beautiful?” Sherry beams, hands cradling her head. 

“Yeah.” I respond. Her blue eyes study me, as if she’s waiting for me to say more.

“You seem sad.” she states, the smile on her face not faltering.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” One of the women who set up the tables begins serving us drinks and small appetisers. I grab a beer from their platter and take a long drink. Sherry watches me, shrugs, and then turns to the twins beside her. When did she become so…creepy? 

Everyone stands up and music begins playing. Simple violins and guitar riffs through the room. I feel Sherry’s eyes and look over at her. She pretends to look past me. I know because the spot she’s staring at has nothing of note and doesn’t move until Rachel and Oliver suddenly come into the dinner area. If the building agony from their presence wasn’t building in my chest, I would have examined her further.  

Rachel’s eyes are cast on the ground, her long eyelashes brushing against her pale cheekbones. She’s forcing a small smile - the same as during the wedding. The gown on her looks incredible but I know she doesn’t want to be wearing it. There are silver flowers decorated throughout her short, golden blond hair and her eyes are decorated with a deep red eyeshadow. Her lips are a sharp contrast against her white skin. I take in her beauty and try hard not to think of anything else.

They take a seat at the front of the church. Oliver pulled out the chair for her, smiling like a madman. They’re served a plate of dinner first which Rachel picks at. Oliver slings an arm around her shoulders and kisses her on the cheek, whispering something in her ear - to which she cringes at. 

A plate of food is placed in front of me, breaking me out of my trance. I take another gulp of liquor and scan the room for John. He’s in a deep conversation with Oliver’s father. Regardless if I drink or not, I don’t know for certain if he’ll crawl into bed with me again. I think it’s gotten to the point where if he’s horny enough, he’ll take what he wants. 

When the alcohol is no longer being served to us at the table, I finish my beer and make my way to the bar. Milo eyes me but doesn’t say anything.

“A beer please.” One of the men pours me a beer and I stumble back to the table. My cane pushes down on the floorboards with every step. 

“Could have got me one.” Milo says apathetically.

“Get your own.” I slip my drink. 

“Think I will.” he leaves. I try so hard to eat the rest of my food but I can’t seem to find any room for it. I pick at the smoked meat, taking small bites at a time. Everyone around me suddenly begins clinking their glasses with their spoons, prompting the newlyweds to kiss. I feel the muscles in my face tense - I know that I’m scowling but I can’t help it.

“Here.” Milo sets another beer in front of me as well as a few smaller shot glasses, “Look like you need them.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I ask suspiciously.

“I told you. I’m a sorry asshole.” he sits back in his chair. “‘Sides, you’re the only sane person around here.”

“Not true.” I scoff, I nod towards Rachel, “She’s just as sane as me. If not more. Are you just sorry or is it something else?”

“Nope. After what Mr. Miller did to you…I realised that by being a dick to you, that I was making things worse.” Milo loosens his tie, “I don’t need to be piling on top of that.”

There’s a look in his expression that lasts only a moment, as if he’s staring off into the abyss. But just as soon as it appears, it vanishes again. Music begins playing again and Rachel and Oliver rise to their feet. 

Milo leans over to me and whispers, “I notice that the violinist likes to lean over everytime he gets lost in the music. We should drink every time he does that.”

I watch a man with a scraggly beard fall forward, a look of passion as he strings the bow back and forth. I chuckle and drink. Okay that is a bit stupidly silly. 

I lean over to him, “Okay well, that guy over there.” I point to an overweight man, “Keeps looking at the desserts. You drink every time he takes a glance.”

Milo laughs, “Fine.”

While the rest of the guests watch the couple dance, Milo and I take turns watching for the prompts that we made. By the time the five minute song ends, we nearly can’t stop ourselves from cracking up. 

“To this awkward wedding?” Milo raises a shot glass.

“Yep.” We clink glasses and shoot them back - just as John and Rachel have their dance. My entire body is becoming numb and for once I’m feeling okay. Milo is making this whole experience sort of fun. Anna dabs her eye for the nineteenth time and I take another swig. Of course she’s this emotional watching her second daughter get married - even if it’s forced.

Milo unbuttons one of the cuffs on his dress shirt and pulls the sleeves up, exposing something that I thought I’d never see. Black ink permanently covers his forearms. On the arm closest to me are a number of snakes entangling a clock. The hands of the clock land on the two and the five: 2:15. Blades of grass weave in between the clock and the snakes. I wonder if the other arm bears another sleeve of ink. 

As the song stops, Milo raises another shot glass, “Again?”

“Sure.” As I take another drink, Anna leaves our table to join John in the next dance. 

“Josh, do you want to dance with me?” Sherry asks, tugging on my suit jacket.

“Better not - still healing.” I point at my leg. She pouts and darts over to Milo, “How about you?”

“Nope.” Milo waves her off, not even bothering to entertain an excuse. She glares at him, “I’m off to get another drink.”

“Same.” I stumble to my feet. I’m getting drunk but I’m not there yet. Everyone else in the building seems to be consuming enough to knock out a cow so it’s probably fine that we’re doing the same. We both take a few unopened bottles of beer and a bottle of rum and sneak up to the second floor and away from the music.

The room is illuminated by a red underlight. It looks a lot different here since last time I was up here. There are a few small couches pushed up against the wall, a circular carpet in the middle of the room, and a small altar near the back. Milo flops down on one of the couches and chugs one of his beers.

“So, how did you get a tattoo under the watch of the orphanage?” I sit on the corner of the couch, twisting the cap of my bottle off.

“I worked for a farmer one summer - he paid pretty good. I was able to save up a bit of money.” He pulls back his sleeve further, “I thought - fuck, let’s just get it done. Said I was going out for the last day to work but instead I got tatted for eight hours straight. I’ve never seen the head of the caretakers so pissed before.”

“How’d you get them to do it? Aren’t you like…uh…” I trail off. He can’t be eighteen - otherwise he wouldn’t have been in the orphanage. 

“Just turned seventeen last week.” Milo licks the end of the bottle before setting it down, “And I knew some people to get it done.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Nah. It stung, but nothing too bad.” Milo smirks at me, “Why, thinking of getting one?”

I shrug, “Haven’t really thought of it before.”

“At first I wanted to get it as a big ‘F U’ but when I started to look at designs and talk to the artist, I took it a bit more seriously.” He turns his arm in the red light, it almost appears to shimmer. 

“It does look cool.” I lean over, examining the scales of the serpents.

“It’s the only thing that I couldn’t take off.” Milo rubs a finger over his lower lips, “Mr. Miller made me take out my nose ring and my earrings.”

 I tease, “You probably looked like a demon or something.”

“Hah, yeah maybe to these religious fanatics.” Milos white teeth glisten blood red from the room’s lighting. It doesn’t help his case, “So, what really happened to your ankle?”

Oh yeah, I did tell him that he’d better behave himself or else John will punish him. I vaguely remember John threatening him too. I whisper, “I tried running away and he made sure I couldn’t run again.”

Milo seems to sober up - but only for a second - before grabbing the rum bottle, breaking the seal, and swigging a good portion of it down. He sets it down beside him, catching his breath, “How?”

I look towards the stairs, “Imagine a drill. Then imagine it drilling two quarter inch screws into my leg.”

Milo stares up at the ceiling motionlessly. He doesn’t move to drink anything for at least a few minutes, giving me time to reach over to grab the rum for myself. It’s strong, but at least it tastes great. 

“I would run away too if I knew that he’d do that to me.” I know that he’s not going far if he decides to bolt.  “Fuck, I couldn’t imagine how much that must have hurt.”

“Tell me about it.” I move my ankle unconsciously, the liquor dulls any pain from the jerky movements. Miloo and I sit in silence, passing back and forth the bottle. Somehow it’s comforting.  

“So, how’d they die?”

“Excuse me?” I slur.

“Your parents.” he has a serious look on his face now.

“Oh um…” I scratch my head, the memory is growing fuzzier and I can barely remember. “To be honest, I think I’ve forgotten.”

“That bad huh? I’ve heard of it happening before. Where, y’know, people forget.” Milo says, “Wish I could forget what happened. It was over ten years ago but I can remember as clear as day.”

“I’m sorry…” I attempt to reconcile.

“Nah, it’s okay.” Milo shrugs, drinking out of the rum bottle, “Don’t know if Mr. Miller told you but I’m not from the same province as you are. I’m one over to the north. We had been invaded several times when I was younger by a bunch of bandits. They didn’t usually leave anyone alive unless they were young children - at least they have morals right?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that here.”

“You’re lucky. They are - and still are - awful people.” Milo unbuttons one of the top buttons of his shirt, “Shoot it’s hot in here.”

“Is that why you’re here?” I swipe the rum from his hands. The music below begins to grow louder and louder. 

“Yup, they transferred me a few times. Been near the north border for at least five years.” Milo pulls his tie off and ties it around his forehead, “They decided to move me here a few weeks ago because I’m almost of age.”

“I was running out of time too.” I toss my suit jacket on the back of the couch, “But the place I was at needed to make room for younger ones. I probably could have found work in the mine or something.” 

“Is that what you’re going to do when you turn eight-”

“What the hells are you two doing up here?” I grab my suit jacket and cane and rocket to my feet. 

“N-nothing. Just hanging out.” I stutter. Ross stomps over to me, stopping a foot short.

“‘Just hanging out? Yeah, sure, just like you did with Oliver hm?” He grabs me by the arm, eyeing Milo behind me, “Looks like you’re getting all cosy up with the new boy.”

“N-no I-I was just…” the hairs on the back of my neck raise. Ross doesn’t really care that I’m up here right? Is he jealous? Is he just watching me to report back to John? 

“Get your hand off of him.” Milo grabs his arm, “We weren’t doing anything but drinking and talking. That’s it.”

Ross backhands Milo faster than either of us can react. “Talk to me that way again and I’ll cut your tongue out. Get both of your asses downstairs now . This area is off limits to the both of you.”

Milo scrambles off of the floor, pulling the tie off of his head. Ross eyes him up and down, “And cover your arm. You’re going to scare the kids.” 

There’s a hint of fear in his eyes and he complies. We return to the party and even though I’m terrified of Ross’ sudden appearance, I feel comforted knowing that maybe I found someone that I can trust. 

Chapter Text

Mrs. Becker and nine of the new followers head out after dinner one night. It must have been the initiation because John locks Milo and I in the room. Neither of us can escape easily through the window outside anyways - that with my ankle permanently messed up and Milo’s broken arm.

“Why’d they lock us up?”

“Maybe they’re testing us.” I blurt out.

“For what?” Milo turns his head to face me. We’re laying on our cots, nothing better to do now that John has burned nearly all of the books in the house.

“I don't know…maybe to make sure we'll stay?”

“Well I don't have any reason to leave - at least right now. It's cold outside and my arm is still healing. Plus I don’t want Mr. Miller on my ass.” Milo rubs his cheek, “It’s bad enough that Mr. Becker hit me.”

He pulls the white garb’s sleeve back and examines his tattoo, hand reaching up to the sky, “Where do you think they all went?”

“The initiation.” I say, “They’ll go and see ‘something’ and they’ll come back more excited and braindead than ever.”

“Sounds fun.” 

“They won’t let us go and see it until we’ve turned eighteen.” I explain but Milo doesn’t seem interested.

“I’ll be out of here by the time that happens. I can’t believe the orphanage would let me go to these wackjobs.” the brunette turns over, “With the experience I get here, I’ll go work for another farmer, maybe learn how to work on some machinery.”

I feel dread build in the pit of my stomach - like I believe that won’t come to fruition. I can’t tell him that though. I can’t instil doubt in his mind. “Do you really like that work?”

“They can’t hold me here when I’m legally an adult.” 

“They dragged me back when I tried to leave.”

“Maybe it’s because they still have legal authority over you.” Milo jumps to his feet. He looks strange with that white robe over his body. It’s so loose and bright. His hair sticks all up all over the place from working outside in the howling wind. He didn’t bother to fix it. His skin is tanned evenly, like he often didn’t wear a shirt while tending the farm in the summer. I can see the holes in his earlobe where the fabled earrings once were. 

A strange light flashes through the tiny window up near the peak of the attic ceiling. Various colours momentarily streak across the room. Milo and I look at each other, “Did you see what I just saw?”

“Yeah…” We rush to the window only to see the remaining colourful light face just past the church. It’s the same direction that the ten members followed John. 

“Something is out there.” I fiddle with the window’s latch.

“Hold up.” Milo grabs my hands, “And just how are you going to get down there?”

“Climb of course.” I swat him away.

“Your ankle is messed up. How in the hell are you going to climb back up here?” I sigh in response. It’s true. If I can get down there and check what’s down there without being detected, I’ll have nearly an impossible time climbing back up. “Didn’t you say that Mrs. Becker is out there?”

I nod, “I’ll have to speak to her the next chance I can get.”

Milo lets go a sigh of relief, “Look, when my arm heals then we can go look together. That’s if Mrs. Becker doesn’t tell you anything.”

“Deal.” I flop back down onto the bed, glancing over at him, “You were that worried about me?”

It’s been two weeks since the wedding. Milo and I have gotten to know each other better and his icy exterior has pretty much melted away - at least around me. He doesn’t seem to want to talk to anyone else in the family. 

“If something happens to you, then who the hell am I going to talk to?”

- 

A loud smash echoes through the kitchen. Shards of glass from a busted jar are strewn across the floor. Anna scolds Sherry and begins picking up the pieces. 

“Josh dear, can you go over to Mrs. Beckers and ask for a jar of beets? She should have a large one.” 

“Yes Ma’am.” Finally, I’ve been waiting for days for an excuse to head over there. Sherry hands me a bag to put the jar in and I head over to Becker's home. This time however, Mrs. Becker answers the door in a strong, cheerful voice. 

“Why hello Josh.” she beams, “How are you doing today?”

“Um, well, how are you?”

“Fantastic!” She kisses me on the side of the cheek, her veil brushing the side of my head. “What can I do for you?”

“Um Anna needs a large jar of beets.”

“Of course! Come on in.” The house is quiet besides the whistling of a kettle in the kitchen. Like last time, I take a seat next to the small table and watch her rummage through her pantry. “Spiced or regular?”

“She didn’t say.” 

“I’ll give her both.” she holds two different coloured jars and places them in my bag, but before she does, I notice something very strange. It looks as though her fingers are no longer warped from the time that Ross broke them.

“Thanks.” She hands me the bag but I don’t budge. “Um, so your fingers look a lot better than before.”

“Oh, yes.” she places the bag on the table, fanning out her fingers so that I can see. They look like normal, feminine fingers. No longer inflamed joints and incorrectly set bone. The next words out of her mouth are chilling, “It’s all thanks to the Eternal. Praise it. I am forever indebted for this blessing.”

“The Eternal?” 

She looks at me, clasping my hands, “A being so powerful it can heal and fix the wrongs within our bodies.”

Did she see…God?

“Do you mean…?” I press.

“Yes, I have been granted the ability to bear children.” she smile softens as she brings her hands to touch her body, “Ross will be so happy when we finally have a child.”

I want to tell her congratulations but something is very, very wrong here. 

“What happened at the initiation?” I press but as soon as the question leaves my mouth, she straightens up and hands me the bag. 

“It isn’t your time yet Josh.” she points to the door, “When it is time, you’ll understand everything. If I tell you anything, the Eternal will not be pleased.” 

“But-”

“The Eternal punishes those who disobey their elders Joshua.” when she speaks, I almost hear John’s voice flowing through her. It isn’t worth risking torture just to ask her a few questions. She no longer can be trusted. 

Chapter Text

“What’cha doing out here? I thought that you don’t work outside.” Milo heaves a small, square bale of hay over his shoulder. Milo got his cast off yesterday. I’m jealous that his arm has fully healed. I wish the same could be said about my ankle. 

“Mr. Miller thinks I can start doing some light work now.” I carry a bucket full of oats in one hand and my cane in the other. As I make my way towards the horses I wonder if I’ll ever get rid of it. 

“How is it feeling?” Milo throws the compacted hay over the side of the fence. The horses trot over, eyeing the new food. 

“A little bit tight.” I stare down at my winter boot, “But it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Glad to hear it.” He grabs the bucket out of my hand faster than I can complain and begins pouring little piles within the fence. 

“I may be disabled but I can do a simple task like this.” 

Milo chuckles, “You're disabled in the head to think you're ready to do some physical work.”

“Ain’t that a knee slapper...” I stand awkwardly, watching him empty the bucket. Molly takes the last pile of oats and stares at me before chowing down. 

“Hey so, I was thinking…” Milo pulls his work gloves off and tosses them into the bucket, “After we’re finished here, do you want to go down to the area where we saw the lights?”

“You think there’s something left over there even after a few days?” Truth is: I’ve been wanting to go down there since we saw the lights but I wasn’t sure if John would have skinned us alive. 

“I hope so.” Milo says, looking over his shoulder. We finished a few more chores: filling up the water troughs for the cows and horses, feeding the chickens, and chopping some wood. As we work, I can’t help but notice Milo’s light green pants - the outfit that we were forced to wear while working. He stacks the remaining wood, “What?”

“That colour looks ridiculous on you.” I point.

“Now you say something?” he feigns disgust, “You should have told me when I bought them.”

I laugh. We finish stacking the wood and Milo signals for me to follow him. We trudge through the deep snow between the church and the fence. It hasn't snowed much since the day we saw the lights but it's still deep. The weather has been quite nice and can even be considered warm.

“The fence goes along all the way towards the mill. Not sure where they'd have gone.” My cane pokes through the soft snow. 

“What about past the mill?” 

“Suppose we can check it out.” The snow travels up past my calf and nearly up to my knee. It's a good thing that Milo stopped me from checking the initiation out. I didn't think I would have been able to get there quickly or quietly. 

The mill’s wheel turns even in the winter river. I can hear it grind against the ice. I carefully watch my footing and notice to my left a flattened section of snow. 

“Hey Milo, looks like they went this way.” My eyes follow their steps up to the treeline. My chest tightens - will John think I'm trying to escape if we start walking through there?

“Good eye.” and without any second thought Milo begins pushing his way through the tree branches. I look over my shoulder and don’t see anyone in the yard. Maybe it’s okay if our intention isn’t to escape. The snapping of twigs stops, “Hey, are you coming?”

I nod, carefully stepping my way into the needled branches. The snow crunches below my boots. I pull the gifted scarf from John over my nose as the temperature slightly drops. Through the tight treeline, a clearing emerges. In the summertime, this runoff is a swamp, but since it’s been so cold, everything has been frozen over. 

“Nothing’s here.” Milo stops, taking in the open space. His hot breath comes out in a hazy cloud. 

A bit of snow finds its way into my boot. The cold sinks into my skin, muscle, and bone. It’s almost like the screw is sucking the chill straight into my leg. I lean over to scoop it out when I notice something strange on the ground. I gently brush away the newly fallen snow. Charred grass lay beneath. 

“Milo…” I kick away more of the snow, “This is strange. It looks like something burnt the ground.”

He cups his chin, “What could have done that? A torch?”

“I don’t know…” The pattern curves around and meets itself again. It’s a circle - six foot diameter.

“There’s another one over here.” Milo kicks away some snow a little off to the right. The more we investigate, the more of these circles we uncover until there’s seven in total.

“This is…huge. All of the patterns are evenly spaced out and the circles are perfect.” I feel the ground. The grass is completely dried out and breaks underneath my fingertips. “It’s like someone took a giant brand and stamped the ground.”

Milo stares off into the water, “Do you think they burnt those trees too?”

There are a few trees standing in the half frozen swamp burnt down to mere charcoal stumps. I shake my head, “I’d know if they were carrying any equipment out here.”

“Wonder what did all this damage then.”

“And how did they avoid burning alive?” I dig my cane into the seared grass. In the distance, there’s the sound of a vehicle rolling down the road. The sound of the dogs barking sends shivers down my spine, “We’d better get back.”

Milo and I return to the yard in time to see a car - a very fancy car - slowing down into the driveway. The logo on the car looks familiar, like a government logo of some sort. By the time we reach the house, a man in a top hat and a monocle exits the vehicle. He speaks in a very proper manner that I’m not used to, “Good afternoon boys, is John Miller around?”

“Yes sir. Let me find him for you.” I say awkwardly. The man pulls out a pocket watch and flips the cover open.

“Good thank you.” he shoves the watch back into his front peacoat pocket and straightens his red tie. 

“Who do you think that is?” Milo asks in a hushed tone.

“Mr. Miller works for the government so maybe it’s someone he knows from there?” I open the door, “Um, Mr. Miller, there’s a feller outside to see you.”

I make an effort to pop my boots off as soon as I can. John’s footsteps stomp out of the kitchen, “Who?”

“I don’t know…he might be from the government. I didn’t talk to him much.” I watch his face momentarily turn sour but returns to mutual and inscrutable. 

He pats me on the head, fluffing my hair, “Good boy.” 

A tiny part of me feels happy that I’ve made him proud. John pulls on his boots and jacket and leaves in haste. 

“Come on.” Milo tugs me into the living room. We take a seat next to the window. Milo cracks the window open just slightly.

“Milo it’s cold outside, you need to close the window.” Sherry scolds.

“Turn up the fire. It’ll only be for a few minutes.” Milo waves a hand at her, trying to watch the scene unfold outside.

“I’m getting cold.” She protests. John walks up to the man and shakes his hand. From where we are, we can just make out their words.

“You’ll be fine.” Milo mumbles, scooching closer to the window. He closes his eyes, trying to make out what they’re saying. 

“Shouldn’t you be changing? Pa said we need to be in our robes-”

“Oh my god, do you ever shut up?” Milo snaps at her. “Fuck.”

Sherry clenches her fists beside her hips, cheeks rosy red. Her bottom lip protrudes out slightly the entire time she glares at Milo. She looks at me for a second and then swivels around on her heel, leaving the room. Her hair covering nearly falls off. I kind of feel bad for her but this could be important.

“I’m sure you know the reason why I’m here.” The man adjusts his glasses, pulling out an envelope. 

“Not really no.” John pulls out a cigar, lighting it in front of the man nonchalantly. 

“We have records that one of your daughters has been married.” He opens the envelope and pulls out a few papers.

“Yup, just a few weeks ago.” John smiles. 

“She’s underage John. So is the boy.” he hands John one of the papers. 

“There’s been special circumstances.” John pretends to look over the paper and gives it back to the man. 

“The ministry would like to know what that is.” the man places the papers neatly back into place and hides the envelope away.

“The boy had gone and got my little girl pregnant.” John says flatly.

“I want to extend congratulations to you John, but you know that we can’t accept the marriage without medical records. It’s illegal for them to be married under eighteen - even with parental consent.” 

“Well you’re more than welcome to test. She’s a couple of months along now.” John hands the man the cigar but he turns it down. 

“Thank you for your cooperation John. I’ll come back in two days with a nurse to perform the test.” he turns, placing his hand on the car’s door handle, “You know, you’ve been acting very strange ever since last year. I was surprised when you announced that you were retiring as an advisor.”

The man appears to notice all of the extra homes on the land.

“Well, Smith, you know that I want to focus on my farm. We have a lot of land and it’s about time we begin using it.”

“You know that isn’t what I mean.” Smith opens the door to his vehicle, “You’ve been quiet lately.”

“Is that a crime?” John puffs his cigar.

“Of course not, but it is peculiar that you have quite a few new structures on your property. How many people have moved here?”

John cocks an eyebrow, “I already told you, I want to focus on the farm. I have a lot of people who are interested in working here. Are you trying to rile up the herd? I ain’t have nothing to hide.”

Smith throws his hands up, “I mean no harm by asking. I’m just concerned.”

“Anything else you need, Smith?” John says. The tone is gentle but the words say otherwise.

“Yes, this sounds a little invasive but that boy with the cane…”

“Ah, Josh. That boy had quite the tumble the other day. Sprained his ankle pretty badly.” John chuckles, “Told him not to go riding on a horse that wasn’t broke.” 

“Life at the farm huh?” Smith buys it. Of course he does. If the doctor that set my fingers didn’t question anything, why would he? Smith says his farewells and leaves. John watches him drive down the road before turning back towards the house. I wonder if I spilled the beans about my ankle to that man if someone would come and free me from this hell. But knowing John, he’d have an excuse for everything. 

My heart feels heavy. No wonder he set the marriage and the pregnancy up. The king takes marriage very seriously there. Even though John needed an excuse to split Oliver and I up permanently, he needed to make sure that he didn’t get extra attention in doing so. 

Milo shuts the window around the same time that John enters the house.

“Papa!” Sherry runs down the hall from the kitchen. “Milo was being mean to me and he swore in front of the youngins.” 

“Really?” I hear John say. Why is Sherry making such a big deal out of this? Was she that upset by Milo? Well, her brothers and I do treat her better…

John places an arm on the doorframe, staring at Milo, “I ain’t needing to hear that my baby girl is being picked on by a newcomer.”

Milo’s face turns sour. He doesn’t say anything though. 

“And he was listening to you and the man outside!” Sherry tugs at her father’s shirt. There’s a hint of a smile on her face. What in the hell is wrong with her? Does she dislike Milo that much?

“You bitch.” Milo let’s slip out.

“Excuse me?” John gently pushes his daughter away.

“She’s stirring up trouble.” Milo glares. 

“Sounds to me like you’re the troublemaker.” John takes a few steps forward. “Sherry, take your siblings and bring them into the kitchen.”

She calls the younger children and they follow her without haste. I slump in the chair. John isn’t showing it well, but I can tell he’s furious. 

“Go to the basement.” John towers over Milo who defiantly holds his scowl. I can feel my own body begin to tremble. Surely I’ve made it clear to Milo what happens down there. Why is he not backing down?

“No.” Milo stands, but he’s still a little shorter than John, “I’m not going down there.”

What is wrong with him?! It’s just little Sherry being a brat. He doesn’t need to get so worked up over it. He should have just apologised. 

John suddenly loses all tension in his body, “Yeah? You think so do you?”

It’s as if the calm demeanour is more menacing because I can see Milo’s fists begin to shake beside his waist. It’s too late to back down now. John is going to punish him. 

Milo swallows auditably, “Y-yeah.”

In a flash John grabs Milo by his newly healed arm and twists it around his back. A high pitched squeak escapes Milo’s lips. John pulls him close, “I want to be done by supper time so be a good boy and follow me.”

John guides him towards the hallway, twisting his arm a little more as a warning. I hear the locks on the basement unclick and the door creak open. Then, silence. 

I sit in the front living room by myself until supper time. Two hours go by. Even when Anna calls me for dinner, the basement door remains closed. I’m tempted to watch the door but scared shitless that someone will tell on me, as crazy as that sounds. 

I’m halfway through my food when I hear the familiar creaking of the basement door. The locks return to their places and two sets of feet walk across the wooden floors. I glance up in time to see Milo take his seat on my left and John on the right. John pats me on the head, “Heard you worked outside for the first time today. Glad you’re feeling better, but next time make sure you change when you’re finished with your chores.”

“Yes sir.” I say obediently. With all of the will in my body, I slowly look in Milo’s direction. A red, black, and white bandana covers his nose and mouth. He’s slightly slumped forward and his eyes bloodshot. An empty placemat sits in front of him. 

“You're such a good boy.” John remarks, eyeing me.

“He is, isn't he?” Anna beams. John gives her a kiss and begins eating his food. The younger children giggle and tell John about their day. I catch Sherry smiling sinisterly in Milo’s direction. There have been a number of times that Milo has dismissed her or outright hostile towards her. He did thrush her off at the wedding when all she wanted to do was dance, but I didn't think any of this warrants such a reaction. 

I catch Peter staring - but this time it's not at me. I know what he's thinking: what did John do to Milo? Did he pull out some teeth? Did he cut out his tongue? John is always creative with his punishments. 

“Peter, James, it's not polite to stare.” The two boys lower their gaze and focus on finishing their food. The family continues eating as if nothing strange is afoot. Everyone but Peter and I relax in Milo’s presence. I can see the worry on Peter’s face, or rather, fear. James is still a little young to really grasp the reality that this isn’t normal. This is more than a punishment. He just doesn’t want to get into trouble. 

The rest of the meal goes by agonisingly slow. When we finally are dismissed, my nerves are on fire. 

John slaps a hand on Milo’s shoulder, “You’ll make sure to treat my daughter right next time, right?”

Defeated, Milo simply nods. We scurry up to the attic. I’m finally able to calm myself when John locks the door.

“Milo.” I whisper. He’s changing into the robe we were supposed to wear earlier. The bandana still wrapped around his face. “Milo what happened?”

He averts his eyes away from me. 

“I’ve been down there three times.” I say, “I know how bad it can be.”

Milo stands silently, holding a hand against the tri coloured fabric. 

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine too.” I begin changing out of my work clothes and into the robe. I sit on the side of my bed, playing with John’s bracelet. Milo sits across from me. When I lift my head, he slowly lowers the bandana. 

My breath catches in my throat. 

Black threads poke out of his lips. The strings crisscross from upper to lower lip. The skin surrounding it is bright red, irritated from the foreign material. A speck of blood clings onto the corner of his mouth and a dark black and blue bruise covers his left cheek. 

At the sound of someone climbing the stairs, Milo pulls the covering back into place and slides himself onto the bed. I climb into my own cot as the door opens. John enters the room as he shuts the lights off. Unwillingly, my body trembles in fear.

But John doesn’t stop at my bed. He towers over Milo’s bed, leaning over and whispering, “Let’s see how long you last.”

Chapter Text

John makes us chop wood in the morning. He and some of the other followers have taken down two large trees in the morning. They saw the branches off and cut the log up into smaller portions for Milo and I to make into firewood. 

The sun beats down on us warmly. If it were summer, it would have been unbearable, but the nice winter air makes it welcoming. I’d much rather do this kind of work than be in the kitchen. 

Anna brings us each a glass of lemonade, “For my good boy. Working so hard.”

I thank her and drink down thirstily. It’s sweet with a slight tang. “What about-”

Milo wipes his brow and stares at the ground. His shirt is drenched with sweat.

“What’s that Josh?” Anna asks.

“Nothing ma’am.” I finish my drink and hand the empty glass to Anna. How long is John going to keep those threads in Milo? He won’t be able to eat or drink. Sure, someone can go a long period of time without eating, but drinking?

We continue to chop wood up until lunch time. All the men involved in harvesting the two large trees join us. The smell of homemade bread and tomato bisque soup makes my stomach growl loudly. Anna serves another homemade juice along with a sandwich and soup.

Everyone except for Milo.

He’s forced to sit there as we eat. Intermittently, I hear his stomach protest, but he himself doesn’t say anything. He stares at the table until we are instructed to finish our chores. 

The weather becomes unusually warm in the afternoon. I have to unzip my jacket and unbutton my shirt. It’s most likely above freezing - which is very strange for the month that we’re currently in. Milo does the same, I can see the ends of the tails of two snakes poking at his collarbone and the sheen of sweat. His eyes look unfocused. 

Peter and James come around to begin stacking the wood behind the house. By the time they’re halfway through, Milo begins to miss the wood on the chopping block. At first, it could have been written off by a slight miscalculation on his part, but after every other swing, I know there’s something wrong.

“Milo.” I stop him from continuing, “Maybe you should sit down.”

He shakes his head. Sweat flies off the normally messy, long hair on the top of his head. The bandana is clearly wet from the sweat dripping down his face and neck. I can hear him breathing heavily through his nose. Stubbornly, he continues. He has no one to prove. He needs to slow down. I pick up the pace and help finish the remaining pieces so that he can finally take a break. 

John comes over and nods in approval. He pats my head and asks us to feed the horses before coming in for supper. 

“Milo, I’m getting this. Don’t push yourself so hard.” I hobble towards the barn. My ankle protests from the unexpectant speed. Milo follows almost directly behind me. By the time we get inside the barn, I drop my cane and push him up against the wall, “Listen, you’re going to sit down right now.”

I don’t need to tell him twice because his legs give out from underneath him. I guide him down to a square bale and force him to sit while I gather the feed. “He’s got to take those out sooner or later. You need to drink something .”

Milo flexes his fingers. They’re swollen from dehydration. He leans up against the barn’s wall and closes his eyes. 

I finish our final chores and go inside to wash up. With only Milo and I in the bathroom, he pulls down the bandana and cups water in his hands. His eyebrows knit together in pain while he tries to sip the water through his sealed lips. He only gets God knows how much before he’s forced to cover his face again because Peter and James enter the room. 

Supper comes and Anna serves a delicious roast along with creamy mashed potatoes, gravy, and carrots topped with butter and dill. John boasts on how it has been cooking for over eight hours and that’s why it’s so juicy. Milo sits silently in his seat. Is he supposed to give John some kind of signal that he’s given up? Or is he waiting for John to finally free him of his prison?

By the time bedtime rolls around, Milo collapses into the bed. Merely climbing up the three sets of stairs is enough to use up all the remaining energy he has. John doesn’t bother locking the door. He comes in and gives me a soft kiss on my forehead. “Musta been hard on your body from choppin’ all of that wood.”

“No sir.” I answer truthfully, “I missed doing it.”

He chuckles, sitting me up far enough so that he can sit behind me. His hands begin to massage my shoulders and for once, his touch feels good - and more importantly - welcomed. He rests his nose in my hair while he works away the knots in my back. He works away for what feels like a quarter of an hour before he stops. He kisses my neck and immediately my entire body freezes. 

“Hm, what do you think of your new friend?” John runs both his hands through my hair.

I know what he’s fishing for. My mind runs through every possible answer, but literally anything can be the wrong answer, “He’s good company and works hard.”

“He does work hard, doesn’t he?” John asks rhetorically, “It’s too bad he had to run his mouth off.”

I stay silent. I’m not sure if he wants me to answer or not. I’d rather not. 

“Been keeping your hands to yourself?” he runs his hand down my neck and chest.

“Y-yes sir.” I answer almost immediately.

John returns his hand to my hair, messing it up in approval. He rises from my bed and walks over to Milo. He’s completely passed out. 

“Good looking kid, right Josh?” John brushes a piece of Milo’s golden brown hair away from his eyes.

Maybe John can listen to reason?

“I’m worried that he-”

“That’s not what I asked Joshua.” John’s voice hardens. He doesn’t take his eyes off of the sleeping boy. He runs his thumb along the boy’s partially covered cheekbone.

“I haven’t really thought about it.” I carefully tread.

“Of course not.” John grins, “If you did, we’d have to make an example of you again - wouldn’t we?”

“Yes sir.” I mutter almost instantaneously. John tucks the boy in and gives me one last peck on the forehead. 

In the morning, I have a difficult time waking Milo. He’s clearly stiff and disorientated. His skin is dry and cool to the touch. I try to talk to him but he isn’t hearing a word that’s coming out of my mouth. 

I feel guilty that I’m able to eat breakfast while he struggles to sit upright in his chair. Even the smaller children begin to notice how bad of a condition he’s in.

“Papa, is Milo sick?” Connor asks. 

John chuckles, like it’s some kind of sick joke, “No Connor. He’s just been very naughty.”

As soon as we go outside to begin our chores, I already know that he’s in no condition to continue. He can’t walk in a straight line. I force him yet again to sit down in the barn. He slumps forward. 

“You need to drink something.” I search around the barn, “We’ve got to cut those threads or else you’ll-”

A noise escapes Milo’s throat. I spin around to see him straightened up. He’s shaking his head. 

“If we don’t cut them…” Milo waves his hands, trying to communicate a strong ‘no’. I frown. He’s not going to get through the day, unless he knows John will remove the black threads soon. 

“Okay fine.” I concede, “You need to sit the chores out though ok?”

Milo nods feverishly and with that I get on with the work. Between the different chores, I check in on Milo’s deteriorating state. He can’t keep his eyes open. His skin is on fire and I know that this is now serious. I wrap one of his arms around my shoulder and try my best to walk him towards the house. My ankle twinges every time the snow breaks beneath my feet, but I hold him nevertheless. 

About halfway, Milo finally passes out. 

“Milo!” I shake him. 

“What in the hells is going on here?” Ross comes out of nowhere, yelling for no damn reason.

“He’s passed out because he’s dehydrated and starving.” I say, trying to hold back my anger.

I hear a few more sets of feet approach us. Two men from the church stand around confused. 

“John! Your new boy ain’t doing so well.” Ross calls. Within seconds John approaches us. 

“I’ve got this handled.” Before I leave I hear him say, “Ah, this is your limit. Let’s take them out, shall we?”

Milo is scooped up off of the ground. John disappears into the house. Right around that time, there’s a car that can be heard rumbling down the snowy driveway. Ross grabs my arm and hauls me to my feet, “Go to the barn.” 

I stumble towards the barn and grab my fallen cane. Through one of the small holes in the wall, I watch the car arrive. It’s Smith’s car. There’s a younger woman in the passenger seat. Ross greets them, letting Smith know that John is ‘just taking care of something’ in the house. Smith nods, checking his pocket watch and then helping the woman out of the car. She’s dressed in a white nurses outfit and black, shiney heels. She hauls out a large briefcase and places it against the hood of the car. 

John comes out a few moments later, adjusting the buttons on his shirt sleeves. He and Smith talk before taking the two towards Oliver’s house. 

“Ah Ross, can you get Josh to help Milo out inside?” John shouts before entering the home.

I step away from the barn wall and sit down on the same haybale that Milo weakly rested on earlier. Within seconds, Ross enters the barn.

“Get up, you’re going to the basement.” I stand up before Ross can physically direct me. I follow him as fast as I can - or rather - how fast my injury will let me. By the time we enter the house and he begins unlocking the door, he grins, “My, my, you’re sure excited to go down there.”

“I’m just worried.” it’s the truth. Ross pulls off the last lock and opens the door. 

“Get down there and give him some water. Not too much or else you’ll make it worse.” Ross nearly shoves me to the top of the stairs, “We’ll be done after Rachel’s examination.”

I take the first step down before the door slams behind me. Ross bolts the door shut and applies the locks. I reach over and flick on the lights. The stairs are just as steep as I remember them. As quickly, but carefully, as I can muster, I descend. In the basement the strange, foreign books remain. Although, some of them are now missing from the shelves. 

The subbasement lights have been turned off. It’s a horrible reminder that Oliver and I forgot to turn them off months ago. The cement is cold under my feet. I don’t hear any sounds from downstairs. As I round the corner, I see Milo sitting on the dirty mattress, back against the wall. He’s not awake. 

“Milo?” I ask, hurrying to his side. 

He doesn’t stir. The black threads have been removed. Small, crimson holes dot his upper and lower lips. Blood streams down into his mouth and over his chin. Small droplets have fallen onto his work shirt. I’m reminded of his condition at the sight of his chapped lips and begin looking around for something. 

There’s a tap on the far end of the room. Above the sink is a cupboard labelled ‘Medical supplies’. I open the door and find a couple of bottles of disinfectant and cotton swabs. There are a few blue sponges as well and I quickly soak them until they’re fully absorbed. I leave my cane behind and carefully bring everything beside Milo. First things first…

I tilt his head up, dabbing the blood from his lips and applying the disinfectant at the same time. He seems to stir when it undoubtedly stings. He looks at me with his heterochromic eyes and whispers, “Water…”

“Of course Milo, one second.” I pluck the sponge off my now wet knee and dab it against his chapped lips. I squeeze it just enough that it flows into his mouth. Milo swallows, eyes shifting in and out of focus. I continue to give him very small amounts of water until the sponge has pretty much dampened. 

Milo rests his head against the sub basement wall. It most likely feels good against his body. I don’t think I’ve felt anyone’s face as warm as his besides one with a fever. I grab more water and search the medical cabinet to find some ointment. Sure enough, that’s there too. There’s a lot of medical paraphernalia in there. I wish I didn’t know why.

“Do you want more water?” I ask and he nods weakly. I give him a bit more water and then force him to stop. I place a finger in the jar of ointment and scoop out a generous helping. My finger dabs his lips and the affected skin on his face. He hums, closing his eyes. As his mouth is fully coated, I run my fingers along his lips carefully, making sure to rub in the ointment.

“How did you do it?” Milo’s voice cracks. His voice sounds real rough for someone who hasn’t spoken in two days. I give him the remaining water from the sponge. 

“Do what?” 

“Take the punishments.” he stares past me. I’m not sure how to answer him. It isn’t like I take them sitting down. 

“It isn’t exactly a stroll through the meadow.” His lips are so dry. I take the ointment and lather it all over the cracked and flaking skin.

“Fuck my mouth hurts.” Milo’s eyes squeeze shut.

“Then stop yapping.” I say, leaving to get more water. I stand at the sink, waiting for the sponge to soak up the water. I take two sponges back to Milo and almost immediately start to give him some more water. 

“I’d give you more but I don’t think it’s good for you to drink that quickly.” I pull the second  sponge away. Milo huffs, closing his eyes and leaning back. I dab some more salve on his lips, it should probably dry before I give him some more water. 

My entire body freezes when a hand runs through my hair. My hands drop to my sides. How much of our conversation did he hear?

“Good job boy.” John’s voice tickles the fear in my body. I stay still, kneeling in front of Milo. Milo stares in my direction, eyes struggling to stay open. “Go on upstairs and get some food.”

Almost like a command, my body moves without my own consent. Fear drives me to my feet, but Milo’s hand around my own prevents me from leaving. Milos - wait what is he doing? His fingers tug weakly, protesting. John steps closer and yanks Milo’s hand away, “What is this?”

“I-I didn’t-”

“Shh…” John pats me on the head, “I know what I saw. Don’t worry your pretty lil head.”

I gulp. John kneels in front of Milo, who still can’t seem to focus on anything. John gently drags the back of his hand across the boy's cheek, “Your head on right boy?”

Milo slumps forward, John catching him. In the quietest voice, Milo begs, “Food…please…”

John smiles, pressing his nose against the boy’s hair. John hums, “I suppose you can have some food if…”

Milo tries his best to lift his head and look John in the eyes.

“...you give me a kiss.” 

His lips part slightly, “What?”

“You heard me.” John lets his fingers trail down the back of the boy’s head. Milo’s eyes snap away, concentrating on me. Fear sets in his eyes, asking me for answers, and I have nothing to give.

John’s fingers trace along the underside of his jaw, pulling his focus back to the man in front of him, “So what do ya say?”

Hints of rose managed to barely stain his cheeks. His eyes drop to the ground, “...”

“Anna is making a creamy, tomato basil soup just for you.” John’s voice softens. I see his tongue poke ever so slightly out of his mouth before retreating back in. John continues, “If you eat slowly enough, I’ll let her give you a piece of fresh, garlic bread.”

“Why would I…” Milo’s chest racks in a dry cough, “...kiss a predator like you?”

Milo looks away, embarrassed. There's no real venom behind those words. John takes the weakness to his advantage. 

“Mmm, you must really not be hungry then if yer mouth is still spewing that shit.” John stands, pulling away the only support Milo had. He nearly topples face first onto the mattress. John walks past me and up to the medicine cabinet. “The real question is: do I run a needle through the same holes or make new ones?”

Before I have a chance to protest on behalf of Milo, he hastily responds, “No…anything but that.”

John pauses, hand on the cabinet knob, “I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson.”

Milo looks between John and myself several times. I’m sure the hunger and memory of the threads are getting to him. John watches him with sceptical eyes, “You’ve been very disrespectful.”

I can physically see the fight return to Milo’s eyes. He struggles to his feet, swaying back and forth. “I…ouch…”

His lip twitches. Blood drips from two of the freshly disturbed holes in his bottom lip. 

“Show me you’re sorry.” John grins - something sinister in his brain building. 

Sweat builds on Milo’s brow. His hazel hair sticks to his forehead. Merely standing is sucking all the energy he has remaining from his body. I watch Milo slowly take steps forward, every step closer I think he’s going to collapse but he doesn’t. He barely manages to make it to John before tumbling down. My mouth feels like it’s been sealed shut. John's passive aggressive energy feels like it is preventing me from moving. 

Milo groans, struggling to his hands and knees and then clasping John’s jeans, pulling himself upright. John smirks, waiting for Milo patiently. He holds himself up with the front of John’s shirt, legs shaking. His eyes squeeze shut as if he’s expecting John to initiate, but even I know what John wanted him to do.

“What’cha waiting for?” John places a hand in his pocket, “I know that you’ve had a lot of practice back at the orphanage.”

Milo’s eyes snap open. His face reddens, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

John chuckles, his unoccupied hand running his thumb over the blackened bruise on Milo’s cheek, “The orphanage matrons told me how you were quite the fuckboy - had to separate ya from the rest of the boys.”

Milo is at a loss for words. My mind is racing - Milo likes men too? Did John specifically adopt him because he knew that? 

“Come on now, your soup is getting cold.” John plays with a strand of his hair. 

There’s an emotional shift on Milo’s face - from disgust to something else. He loosens his hold from John’s shirt and wraps his hands around John’s neck. Milo crashes his bloody lips against John. I watch both of the man’s arms wrap around Milo’s waist, preventing him from backing out of the deal. John’s tongue slides into Milo’s mouth and in that same second, Milo stiffens but ultimately reciprocates. 

Something suddenly stirs in me. I bite the inside of my cheek and drop my eyes. Is it because of all the touching that John has put me through? Is it a reminder of what the moondust did to me? Why am I feeling this way?

Milo moans - it’s hard to tell if it’s from the pain in his face or if he’s enjoying it. Probably the former - there’s no way he’s enjoying it. I shouldn’t be.

John breaks away, “Well, well, well!”

Milo is shoved against the countertop. John grabs him roughly at the crotch, “You filthy little saddle tramp. You like this.”

“No I’m just-” Milo’s breath hitches when John rubs his hand along his sheathed length. Blood and spit slowly drips from his chin.

Josh think. Think of anything but what’s in front of you. John will notice if I have an erection. My mind skims through awful memories: the drill plunging into my flesh, being chased through the forest by the dog and horses, being assaulted by Ross. My body calms down and by the time that John finally turns around, there’s no evidence. 

“Shh, you don’t have to make excuses.” John smears the blood around on his lips, “This is fine. Just fine.”

Chapter Text

Milo hasn’t talked to me in days. Not that I’ve been pushing him, not in the slightest. I’d be horrified if anyone knew that I was turned on by John - especially without drugs. I, myself, have been trying to forget my body’s reaction after seeing Milo with John. 

The temperature finally dips into the coldest time of the year. Peter, James, Oliver, Milo, and I are all instructed to go outside and feed the animals as quickly as possible. The horses come to greet us for only as long as they have to eat and then retreat back to their shelters. The cows do the same. The chickens stay huddled up in their coop. By the time we finish our chores, I can’t feel my fingers, even though I had been wearing heavy gloves.

The freezing cold isn’t what makes me want to retreat indoors though. Being around Oliver is a nightmare. He doesn’t make eye contact with me but he talks about Rachel to James and Peter. She’s been living there for a while now and I guess it makes sense that her brothers miss her. She hasn’t been over as of much lately. The way Oliver talks about her though makes anyone think that he was in love with her since the beginning. Although I’ve lost all sexual feelings towards him, it doesn’t hurt any less. It feels like I’ve been left in the dust.

My mood is still sour by the time I finally kick off my boots. The warmth from the fire hits my face but I don’t stop by the living room to defrost. I do exactly what John wants me to do: go change into that awful robe. One of the younger kids, one of the twins Sophia, refused to wear it one day. John immediately dragged her down to the basement. When they came back up, she ran into her room and changed. No one is speaking to her - even her twin. 

Milo waits for me to change. He has ever since his time down in the basement. It’s very strange because I know what his injury looks like - even though he’s still been instructed to wear the bandana until the holes in his lips have healed. I wonder if there’s another reason why he isn’t feeling comfortable changing around me anymore. 

I contemplate putting on some long johns underneath but decide against it. I don’t know if John would allow it. I’ll just huddle by the fire. 

All the dogs are inside today due to the cold. I used to be a fan of dogs, but the incident from the forest has put me on edge. I take a seat closest to the fire and watch the rest of the siblings in the room. The youngest ones are colouring, while a few of the older ones are playing card games. Peter is trying to read a nature book - now that most of the books have been burnt. 

Milo comes down to join us. There’s a black and white chequered bandana covering his face today. The old one had been thrown out and replaced after John noticed blood on the old one. He sits cross legged in front of the fire.

“Milo!” Anna calls. Without hesitation he leaves the room. Out of sheer curiosity, I follow shortly behind him.

“Let me see your face.” I overhear from the hallway, “Hm, looks almost healed now. You can stop wearing this now.”

I wonder how well it healed. The holes were fairly small but there is a chance that he could have torn one. John must not be taking any chances. Even though we don’t leave the farm now, I guess there is the possibility that government officials will come for a visit. They haven’t been back since testing Rachel, but they did seem suspicious. 

I hobble my way over to the bathroom. A pair of feet follow me but I assume that they’re Milo’s. I hope I didn’t upset him by overhearing the conversation. I put my cane off to the side and begin to wash my hands. The door closes behind me. Oh, maybe he is…

“Sorry Milo I didn’t mean to overhear I-” he spins me around and kisses me. 

Except it isn’t Milo.

“Peter what the fuck?!” I push him hard. He trips on his own feet and slams onto the floor. I turn to grab my cane and get out of there.

“Josh, wait!” he scurries in front of the door like some kind of rat. He looks so innocent with those big fucking blue eyes. He always acts innocent but look at what he’s become - thinking he can push himself onto me like that. My ankle may be permanently disabled but that doesn’t make me a pushover. 

“Why the hell did you do that?” the words come out of my mouth venomously.

“Um…I thought it would work, like in the books we used to read.” Peter sheepishly says.

“What in the world are you going on about?” I shake my head, trying to keep my voice down.

“Pa said…it’s the only way you’ll ever feel loved. I thought that you’d like it.”

“Bullshit.” I grab him by the collar of his robe. Those hurtful words tighten my chest and suddenly I really want to punch him square in the face, “What’s the real reason?”

Peter swallows, still feigning that stupid, innocent facade, “I can’t sleep.”

“So?”

“I can’t stop thinking about when…when you…” his face burns brightly.

“I’m never doing that again, especially with you.” I growl at him, “You know, Ross tried doing the exact same thing and John wasn’t enthused about it.”

The colour drains from his face. I poke him directly in the chest, “He didn’t like Ross touching me if he wasn’t given permission and I don’t think he’d treat you any differently just because you’re his spawn .”

I pause, that’s it. That’s how I get him off my back, “And when John gets back I’m going to tell him what you did.”

“No, please I’m sorry.” Fear takes over his entire body.

“Yeah, and I’m sure you’ll be dragged down to the basement where John will give you a suitable punishment for going behind his back.” 

“Josh please, I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again.” he panics, dropping to his knees. 

“That’ll teach you a lesson.” I say, grabbing for the door handle. I have to make sure that he’ll leave me alone. 

“Please Josh!” He grabs my legs. “I’m sorry. Please, I’ll do anything if you don’t tell my father.”

I stand silent, observing Peter crumbling apart. His body is shaking now, I can feel it in his arms. He doesn’t have the gall to look at me. Maybe I can make him do a favour for me? 

“You’re going to do something for me.”

“W-what? What do you want me to do.”

“I’ll decide when I need you to do it for me.” I shake him off, “Got it? Otherwise I will tell John.”

“O-okay.” Peter crawls backwards, avoiding the door as I open it. One less person on my back. Hopefully Peter will be of some use to me. I close the door behind me and return back to the living room. No one pays me much attention as I return to the spot by the fireplace. 

Milo is staring at the fire again. My anger and frustration from Peter melt away. I can barely see where the threads had been punctured into his skin. His lips aren’t dry anymore, there’s a sheen from the hot cocoa he’s been sipping on. I grab a piece of paper from the table next to me and a pencil. I can’t be staring at Milo all day, I’ll just be reminded of-

One of the dogs howls. The pencil in my hand topples onto the ground in a clatter. A cold wind rushes into the room for a brief second before I hear the door slam shut. Is John home already? I thought that he’d be gone for at least a few more days. 

“Rachel!” Anna calls, “I’m glad you can come for supper.”

Great, if Rachel’s here then that means…

“Oh Oliver, you didn’t need to bring anything.” I can hear Anna kissing him on the cheek, “Come in. Come in.”

A few of the children jump off their seats and rush out of the room. I’ll take on the awkwardness come supper. 

“I’m going upstairs.” I announce to Milo. He briefly looks my way and then back at the fire. I won’t be surprised if he doesn’t come. The attic is warm because of the chimney stack that runs through it, but it isn’t as warm as downstairs, especially considering how cold it’s been all week. 

Anna is thoroughly distracted by the company. I’m able to make my way upstairs in peace. Even Sherry hasn’t bothered to question my motives. I’m glad, I’m not sure how much I can take from hearing about the baby. It’s all they ever talk about - it’s all Oliver ever talks about. I can’t wait to see the baby. I am going to teach him or her how to ride. I can’t wait to be a father. It goes on and on. 

Maybe Milo’s cynicism is rubbing off on me…

I wrap myself in a blanket and lay down on my bed. I’m so bored. With all of the books burnt, there isn’t much to read. There are some school books left, but nothing that would entertain us. I can’t wait until spring, at least we won’t be cooped up inside. Although, I do wonder what else John will change. When I overheard John and the other men talk, he said that they said to introduce change slowly. Whoever they are. At least what has changed now isn’t too bad. 

I hear the floorboards creak. Milo joins me in the room but sits at the edge of the bed, facing away. I hear his mouth open, but no sound escapes it. I wait patiently, however, he is running out of time if he wants to say something to me. I can smell dinner and Anna’s going to call us anytime now. 

The wind outside begins to pick up. The one window in the room begins to rattle. Something small begins to hit the glass with a continuous tinking sound. Sounds like a winter storm has rolled in. 

“Boys! Supper.” Anna calls us. I sigh, unwrapping myself from my warm cocoon and making my way down. Milo will have to wait until later.

The first person I lock eyes with is Rachel. She doesn’t look well. Not in the sense that she looks sick. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her that depressed before. There’s a spark missing from her eyes - I’m not sure how I can tell, it just is missing. She does clearly look tired though. She’s always gotten enough sleep but now she looks like a miner with how sunken and dark her eyes are. 

Her husband on the other hand is livelier than ever. In fact, I don’t think I would have recognized him by the act he’s putting on. Oliver always just seemed like a nice kid who lightheartedly joked around. Now it seems like he’s trying too hard to impress someone or trying to fit in where he doesn’t belong.  

“Anna, this meal looks great. You’re always such a fantastic cook.” Oliver says in a confidence I haven’t heard from him before. It sounds like someone replaced him entirely. 

“Thank you Oliver.” Anna blushes.

“It must be where Rachel gets it from.” He wraps an arm around her shoulder, leaning in and kissing her on the cheek. I can’t help but notice her visibly flinching. Her gaze begs me to do something but we both know that I can’t help her. 

“Oh you.” Anna waves. Sherry and the twins serve everyone at the table and then join us. 

“Awfully quiet without Mr. Miller and Mr. Becker not around.” 

Anna sighs, “Yes, but it’s probably for the best. He has a lot of work to finish. He’s been putting it off in preparation for the winter and the wedding. I’ll be so happy when he can spend all of his time at the farm.”

“It will be nice, won’t it?” Oliver beams. 

“Ma…where’s Mary?” Rachel asks. “Or the others…?”

“Oh, she’s having some really bad pregnancy sickness. She couldn’t make it tonight.” Anna cuts into her meatloaf, “And you know that the Beckers are trying for a baby now. They shouldn’t be disturbed.”

I shudder to think what that man is doing to that poor, brainwashed lady.

“I wanted to keep our gathering small - family only tonight. We can have a bigger feast with everyone on a different day. Perhaps when it is a bit warmer outside.”

“That’s fine with us!” Oliver reassures, “Sorry my Ma and Pa couldn’t come. They’re both feeling under the weather. The cold has been bothering my Pa’s knee too.”

Oliver and Anna babble on for what seems like an eternity. I clench the fork in my left hand, prepared to stab my ears until they bleed. They talk more and more about the baby. Rachel does her best to give short and to the point answers without seeming rude. Would John send her down to the basement if she acted out, even though she’s pregnant? Or would they wait until the baby was born to begin her punishment?

Oliver stares at me for a second and then turns to Anna, “You know, I’m really thankful that Mr. Miller showed me the way. I’m so fortunate to have Rachel as my wife. I’d never be happy if I was still in my previous relationship. I’d never have a child.”

Why is he doing this to me? I don’t have feelings for him anymore. Every inch of my skin begins to feel hot. I haven’t felt this angry since…God knows when.

“This is good for you too Josh.” I can’t bear to look him in the eyes. If I do…well, I’m not sure what I’ll do. “Maybe Mr. Miller will find you a sweet girl like Rachel.”

I grit my teeth, “You know that I don't fancy girls.”

The table is quiet. I lift my head the moment Oliver speaks, “You can’t just run away with boys-”

“As if you wouldn't have!” I slam my fists on the table. “You didn't care about girls until you were forced to.”

“Joshua that's enough!” Anna stands abruptly. There's a deep scowl on her face. “I want you to go to your room for the rest of the night!”

“Gladly.” I pick up my cane and storm off as fast as my body can physically allow me to. Even though it was over quickly, much had been said. At least between the two of us. Oliver didn't have to say much of anything to offend me, but he did anyway, just to put the nail in the coffin. That condescending piece of shit. How could I ever have liked him? 

I want to punch the attic wall so badly but I know that I'm going to be punished for yelling and what I said in front of the younger children. They'll probably be asking why I don't like ‘girls’ and I don't think Anna wants to explain it to them. 

I wrap myself in my quilt and sigh. I wish that I was almost eighteen so that I can leave like Milo. I wouldn't have to see Oliver anymore. I wouldn't have to worry about John. I could go and work as a farmhand now with all my experience. I remember a lot of people looking for help back when we still went to the church. The real church. 

“So you liked that asshole?” Are the first words in days that comes out of Milo's mouth.

“He wasn't like that when we first met.” I mutter. 

“What was he like?” Milo lays down on his cot but faces away. 

“A lot kinder and soft spoken than he is now.” He was a helpful, no judgemental guy. He taught me how to ride. He was curious and sceptical about the Miller family. 

“Is that…your type of guy?” Milo asks, there's uncertainty present but I'm not sure why. 

“I guess….I don't know. It was the first time I felt that way about a guy.” My face burns. “Why does it matter?”

Milo doesn't respond to that. 

“I shouldn't have ever got involved with him. None of this would have never happened. John wouldn't have….” I stop. Would he have? He said he needed an excuse when he first touched me. Would any mistake begin the torture he had made me endure? Or was he just toying with me? He never really needed a reason to rape me, did he…?

“I think Mr. Miller picked us both because he's a sick mother fucker.” Milo finally turns over, “Not because of Oliver. I think that he knew you liked boys even before you knew Oliver. I bet he set that whole thing up because he knew Oliver would make a move. He wanted to see you get attached so that he could destroy you from the inside, and I think he gets off on it.” 

I swallow, something feels trapped in my throat. I’m not sure why, but I ask, “Do you think that maybe he was trying to do the same thing to us?”

Milo stares at my face. There's something in his eyes searching for something in mine, “I don't think we have the same type of relationship.”

“I know but…” I trail off, I don’t want Milo to think that I’m into him. I find it odd that we’ve been put together in the same room. It’s almost like Mr. Miller wanted us to get attached to each other. 

“What?” Milo asks.

“It’s nothing. Nevermind.” I shouldn’t make up things in my head and I certainly shouldn’t plant a seed in Milo’s head. He nearly died of dehydration and had his lips sewn shut. The last thing he needs to worry about is what John will do next. 

“You know that…I didn't really like kissing Mr. Miller right?”

“Who would?” I grimace. At least, I try to. That memory of Milo locking lips with John comes back flooding in my mind. 

“I was so tired and my body was just….” Milo bites his lip.

“You don't need to explain. John uses your every weakness to his advantage. Like you said earlier, he likes to make us suffer.”

“Thanks.” Milo says genuinely, “I uh, was worried what you'd think about me.”

“You sound like a girl.” I joke.

“Shut up.” Milo smirks. 

Chapter Text

John arrives home a few days later just in time for church. I thought for sure that Anna would tell John what had happened between Oliver and I, but as Milo predicted, the whole predicament slipped her mind. 

“We have some new changes that are to be put into place immediately.” John addresses the congregation. I can never get used to the way he speaks in front of a crowd. It’s almost as if he isn’t even the same person. “As many of you know from Thursday’s nightly discussions…” nightly discussions? John meets together with the rest of the churchgoers on different days? “...that we are sexual creatures who have urges to be satisfied. And the first step to satisfy that urge is through marriage. We will proceed in the next phase of your life in our community. As Nova allows, we can arrange multiple wives, but at this time, we will be limited to one per man. As our numbers grow, we will provide other avenues.”

John swings his arms out wide, “After consulting the Eternal, we have made the decision to match some of you with a suitable partner.”

More arranged marriages? As if everyone will be okay with that notion, especially if the arrangement is not done with the direction of their parents. No one would allow that…. Right? 

John calls the six women he somehow convinced to join Nova onto the stage. All in all, there were seventeen strangers who had joined John's church. As there were only six women, he called up six men, one of which was Will. I'll never forget that face…

“After lengthy discussions, the Eternal had identified the most suitable partners for these young adults.” John places both of his hands on Will’s shoulders and guides him to a young woman, “William, this will be your wife. She is a wonderful lady who will be a great mother to your children.”

John continues to match up each man with a woman. At the very last couple, I notice a small, but significant apprehension from the woman. Her eyes flicker out to someone in the crowd and then back at the man standing in front of her. 

“Abigail, is there something wrong?” John says after she doesn’t respond to the man he presents her with. 

The woman shakes her head, “No sir.”

“Abigail…” John cups her face, “No need to lie.”

Her bright green eyes scan the crowd again. She looks back at John.

“I-I just.” she swallows, “I’ve already fallen in love with someone else.”

John turns to the crowd, a smile on his face, coldness in his eyes. “We all have someone who we believe we love.”

He places her assigned partner’s hands into her own, “My newest son-in-law is now happily married. He may have not met the Eternal just yet, but he’s come to an understandin’ that Rachel was the one for him.” 

The woman nods, unable to keep the sadness from her eyes. “I trust the Eternal.”

Just what exactly is ‘the Eternal’? 

Does John really have the ability to speak with it or is he just convincing everyone that he can?

John smiles and begins to clap. The rest of the congregation joins in, hooting and hollering. “Atta girl. You’re going to make your new husband very happy.”

“We will be putting together a communal marriage ceremony for next week. We have two other women who will be arriving soon, and I’ll announce their husbands at that time.” John guides the six couples down to their seats, “In that time, we also have more to announce, but I’ll let Mr. Hunter explain.”

Oliver’s father walks to the front of the church while John comes over and sits down between myself and Anna. He wraps an arm around both our shoulders. 

“As the weather is improving, we’ve decided to begin construction on a few more homes.” I hear Mr. Hunter’s voice but it slowly morphs into a faint, muted tone. John’s gloved fingers dance across my shoulder and creep up Milo’s neck. The boy flinches, but not enough to alert everyone around us. He slowly crosses his arms, digging his nails into his flesh but not breaking the skin. Milo glances over at me, only for a quick second, before dropping his hands into his lap. 

John leaves us, returning to the front. He stares at both Milo and I, for just a fleeting second, “Thank you Mr. Hunter. I know that we’ll make great progress in the next few weeks. In order for our community to grow, we need more people, and to have more people, we need places for people to stay. Thank you for your patience. It’s been a crowded winter for many of you.”

I remember the time when there were men crowded in the attic. They were there temporarily until more homes were built. Since then, there were only more and more people who joined us. I could only imagine how cramped some of those homes are, but I kind of wish I was there, away from John. 

“Now, on to the last matter. All of you have made great effort with the changes we put into place recently. We would like to add a few more rules to ensure we are living life as the Eternal expects.

“First, in order to become closer with the Eternal, we must make sure that we pray. Prayer brings us closer to it and each other. All will begin prayer in the morning and in the evening. A mantra will be provided to the children but we will focus on the prayer we have practised during our meetings. To maintain our commitment to this, please let Mr. Becker, Mr. Hunter, or myself know if anyone fails to do so.”

Is he implying punishment? 

"As we deepen our commitment to prayer, we’re going to start gathering for an additional service in the middle of the week. This will bring us closer, unite us even more tightly as one. We must come together as a true community, where we can rely on each other completely. With the weather turning in our favour, we'll draw even closer in our work. The women will take on the sacred tasks of preparing and storing food, sewing our clothing, and caring for the children and animals. The men will continue their essential work of building our haven and tending to the farm. Together, we will build a community that stands strong, independent of the outside world. But remember, we can only achieve this if every single one of us is fully committed to our shared purpose."

The adults in the room begin to cheer, as if his words are profound and deep. It isn’t until Anna nudges me that I begin clapping too, albeit hesitantly. 

Then, out of the blue, the adults begin repeating a phrase I do not understand. The language is foreign to my ears. They chant it over and over again. The hair raises off of my arms. 

John raises his hands and the noise immediately stops. He smiles, “To wrap things up, let us embrace one another.”

I hate this part of the ceremony. It always involves John touching me. Anna hugs me first. Even though I know that she’s a part of this just as much as he is, it’s a little more bearable. John arrives and delivers the same uncomfortable embrace I’m expecting. He leans into me, “Why don’t you give your roommate a hug too?”

Milo is standing there awkwardly, of the times I’ve seen him attend church, he hasn’t tried at all to engage. I have a feeling that John has begun to notice. I give him a weak nod and then wrap my arms around Milo’s torso. I can feel his abdomen tense up. 

“Milo.” John strokes his face, “It’s rude to not return the sentiment.”

At that simple touch, every muscle in his body tightens. He leans ever so slightly forward. I feel his hands run up my back and his chin on my shoulder. Before Milo can retreat, John joins us, bringing our bodies uncomfortably close to each other. It’s only for a moment but I can feel my body build an all too real anxiety. 

Anna ushers us out and back into the house. Abigail and one other woman joins us in the living room. They sit us around the room in a circle. Anna places her hands on her lap, smiling at her children. “We’re going to teach you the mantra that your father wants you all to learn.”

“What a mantra?” Zacharias asks.

“It’s like a short prayer. You’re going to say it for the Eternal.”

Before I even have the courage to ask, Hannah asks, “What is the Eternal.”

“The Eternal is God’s name.” I had an inkling that this was ‘God’. It sounded like it after my undernerving meeting with Ross’ wife. 

“God has a name?” James’ eyebrows furrow, “I thought it was God.”

“God prefers being called the Eternal.” Anna smiles, she kneels on the ground, “Now, we are going to learn our mantras. Your father wants to make sure you can begin tonight.” 

Anna splits us up into three groups. The youngest, Zacharias, Isabelle, and Conner sit beside Anna. The Twins, Jacob and Hanna sit with Abigail while the rest of us sit with this woman.

“My name is Mabel.” Strands of hair as bright red as fall pumpkins, poke out from underneath her head covering, and her face is littered in freckles. “Your father has told me the mantra that you’ll learn. He wants you to begin repeating it in the morning and before bed. We’ll begin with a five minute session. Repeat after me: Hardship refines us into perfection.”

Milo looks at me and then back at Mabel. 

“Come on now. Don’t be shy.” She smiles warmly. 

Sherry and James fumble with the words. Peter whispers them quietly.

“Good. Milo and Josh, make sure that you say the words out loud.” Mabel wags her finger in the air. 

“Yeah Milo .” Sherry mocks. He shoots her a dirty look but keeps his mouth shut. 

“Okay, everyone. Together now.” Mabel encourages us with a beckoning gesture. And all together we speak the words, the strange words, outloud.

Hardship refines us into perfection.

“Perfect.” she praises us, “Now the second part: Through sacrifice, we honour the Eternal’s plan.”

The words that we speak have a striking meaning. While life on the farm isn’t particularly hard, at least, for most of the Miller family, the pain we endure when we misbehave is insurmountable. Things are changing, especially ever since Milo arrived. What kind of ordeal will we be put through with the new changes? They don’t seem particularly terrible but maybe there’s worse to come.

Through sacrifice, we honour the Eternal’s plan.

We repeat. Over and over again. 

I notice that Sherry and James begin closing their eyes. Peter loses focus and absentmindedly repeats the words. I even find myself trying to focus on the words just to remember them because if I don’t, what kind of punishment would John give me if I failed to speak them?

Hardship refines us into perfection.

Through sacrifice, we honour the Eternal’s plan.

There’s a period of silence in the room. It’s almost calming if it weren’t for the words we repeated over and over again. 

“Good.” Anna’s voice breaks the silence, “I’m so proud of y’all. You can have some free time now. I’m going to make dinner.”

Mabel and Abigail leave and the children begin playing together. The younger children repeat their mantras - a bit simpler but similar in nature. I feel tired but surprisingly calm after that short session. I’m not sure that I like feeling this way. I’ve always felt a sense of dread whenever it came to ‘Nova’. Nothing good has ever come out of John’s religion. 

That night, Abigail and Mabel return and force us again to repeat the mantras. Anna already helped the younger children with their own as they went to bed early. I had a little bit to drink tonight and after the five minutes of repeating those words, I feel a lot more tired than usual. 

Milo and I clean up for bed. He’s had much more to drink than me. John didn’t notice until he was slumping over the table because he was too busy talking to Ross and Mr. Hunter. I hear him get out of the tub.

“I can’t wait to sleep.” Milo says groggily.

“Yup, same here.” I splash water on my face.

He strolls up to the mirror and grabs a toothbrush. His hair is slicked back but a few strands fall down onto his forehead. His eyes almost fall shut, if it wasn’t for the sudden bang outside. We rush over to the bathroom door. Ross is hauling a metal frame down the stairs.

“Damn it Ross, be careful.” John slurs, obviously drunk.

“Yeah, yeah.” He mutters. As he passes, I notice there’s actually two frames on either side of his body. 

I shrink back into the bathroom before either of them can see me.

“What was what?” Milo asks, mouth full of toothpaste. 

“Not sure.” I lean against the door, “Mr. Becker was bringing something down the stairs.”

“Great thing to do when you’re shit faced.” he spits. I wait for him to finish up and we make our way upstairs. 

It isn’t until we reach the attic that I understand what they were hauling down the stairs. In the small space, we had two cots that we placed on either side of the room. It gave us just enough room that we could have our own space. Space to think, space to relax, space to just unwind. 

I look at the single cot that replaced the other two. It’s not quite a queen but isn’t as small as a double. A single blanket covers the mattress, draping off on either side of the bed. Despite the liquor and the mantra, I can feel the panic begin to fester.  

“Needed the beds for two new girls comin’ tomorrow.” I nearly jump out of my skin when John places both of his hands on my shoulders. “Don’t think you need separate beds. It’s not like you’ve been gawking at each other.”

John guides me towards the bed, “I got you a premium mattress. Go ahead, try it out.”

I sit down on the bed. It does feel a lot softer than what we were sleeping on. The blankets are softer and new too, unlike the old quilt I slept with. 

John leans down, kissing me on the lips briefly. His breath reeks of alcohol. He kisses my neck and unlike when he kissed Milo, I still feel nothing. Maybe it wasn't John that got me hard but…

“You’ve been a good boy so I wanted to treat ya.” He whispers, licking and biting my neck. The wet muscle makes my stomach twist and turn. I feel John drag his hands down my thighs. The tremors in my body begin to build. I can't stop them. 

“Shh…” John hushes, noticing the innate fear coursing through my body. He chuckles, licking the shell of my ear. My face is forcibly turned to face him. He licks my lips, digging his fingers into my jaw, forcing my mouth open. He's been drinking whisky. The sharp taste of alcohol is still on his tongue. 

He breaks the kiss, “Now lay down.” I do as he says. He walks up to the attic door and closes it. Milo stands awkwardly a few feet away, not sure where exactly to be looking.

“Lay down.” The tone in his voice is a bit harsher than he is with me. Even though Milo is clearly displeased with these instructions, he doesn't try to put up any fight. His lips still feel ghostly pains even though they've healed a while ago. He lays on the edge of the bed, back facing away from me. 

John stomps up to me, reaches over, but drags Milo from his spot and forces him on his back. His wet hair seeps into my pillow’s soft cover. Milo doesn’t move a muscle. John grins, “Perfect. I wanted y’all to be closer to one another. Keep each other warm.”

John crawls over top of me. I wish I drank more. I should have known that John wanted me after all this time. He hasn’t touched me since just before Oliver’s wedding. John brushes his thumb against my cheek, but turns his eyes towards Milo. I slowly turn my head towards him to see what exactly he’s looking at but before I do, John kisses me again. His tongue plunges past my lips. He rolls his tongue over mine for a second before pulling back again. 

He drags my robe up and seems disappointed when there’s no activity below. I gulp, last time, the sex hurt so much and I had so much more to drink then. 

But then he does something I don’t expect.

He reaches over and kisses Milo. My hips are still anchored in place by John’s legs so I watch in absolute fear. Milo muffles a groan. I look down and notice that John is palming him directly through the robe. “You like watching, you dirty little mutt.”

Milo tries to cover his face with his arm but John yanks it away. His face burns with a sheen of embarrassment, but John doesn’t stop. He continues stroking Milo overtop his clothing and kissing him sloppily. Milo gives in rather quickly and he kisses back with a passion that I haven’t seen since the stitches were removed. If anything, it seems much more desperate. 

When John finally stops, Milo whines. I pretend that I can’t see the outline of Milo’s erection, but it doesn’t stop my body from reacting. John warns him, “Touch yourself and I’ll make sure that you can’t do that again.”

Then he turns to me. His cold, blue eyes slowly travel down my chest and stop at my stomach. 

His lips turn upright into a horrifying grin. I can’t tell if he's angry or amused, “Joshua, are you gettin’ feelings for him?”

I feverishly shake my head. 

“Yer just as bad as him.” John begins to unbuckle his pants. I'm about to beg him for his forgiveness until I feel his hands wrap around my dick. For once it feels good. Not amazing, but good. My hips buck into his hands but when he notices, he stops. John stands up, pulling his jeans off and exposing himself. 

Milo's breath hitches. His head isn't far from my right ear. I, on the other hand, begin to feel a sense of dread. John tears off my underwear and throws it across the room. He lowers himself on top of me and presses his penis against mine.

“Grab both of them.” John commands. I wrap my hands about both our dicks and he begins bucking his hips. I can feel myself slowly losing my erection. That is until John leans over and begins kissing Milo again. I don’t understand it. Why am I so turned on from watching them kiss? 

I can smell the strong pine soap waft off of Milo’s freshly bathed skin. His arm pushes against my shoulder momentarily as he tries to clutch John’s shirt and press himself into the man. His long eyelashes brush against his cheek when they flutter shut. John runs his fingers through the boy’s wet, golden brown hair. Sounds of eroticism vibrate between their mouths. 

“Mr. Miller, please…” Milo whines in a deep tone.

John breaks away. A single strand of spit drops onto Milo’s chest.

“Please what?” John mocks.

Milo latches onto him, kissing his neck. “I haven’t…It’s been so long…”

“Well that’s too damn bad.” John whispers, slamming him back down onto the bed. Milo gasps, clawing at his arms. “If you behave like Josh, then maybe I’ll give you the same attention.”

John swats my hand away and with one large hand, he begins stroking both of us. A fire erupts in my stomach. I can’t help but let a single moan escape my lips.

“That’s my boy.” John leans down, kissing my forehead. The tight embrace around my length quickens. I can’t help but buck my own hips, chasing the release. My arousal builds like a spring compressing, and soon it’s only a matter of time before it bursts. 

John cums before I do, but it’s one look at Milo’s erotic face that does it for me. The way he stares at me through glossy, hooded eyes. How he desperately craves for release. I don’t register the streams of cum hitting my bare chest. I ride out my orgasm, chest heaving, thrusting until John finally pulls away.

“Come here Milo.” John extends his hand, “Clean it up.”

Milo sits up quickly, almost like in a trance, and begins licking the semen off of his skin. John didn’t give him any drugs, did he? Who is this person and what did he do with the tough Milo?

“Never thought I’d see a real life libertine.” John strokes Milo’s face, a grin plastered on his drunken face. “Go, clean him up too.”

He’s got to be high on something. Milo would never…

My stomach clenches as Milo makes contact with my skin. He hungrily laps up the cum from my stomach. His eyes flick up to mine but shame brings them back down. He tries running a hand up my side, but John apprehends him, “Don’t you dare put your dirty little mitts on his body.”

With a twist of the arm, Milo focuses on cleaning me up. While I had just orgasmed, I can feel the blood rush to my junk. Embarrassingly, I get harder and more hot the lower and lower he goes. The closer he gets to my waist, the worse it becomes. I have to use every ounce of restraint not to squirm and moan. By the time he slurps up the last bit off my stomach with his slippery tongue, his head drops down further, but John snatches him by the hair and hauls him back.

“That’s good enough boy.” John again shoves him back down onto the bed and gently tugs down the robe around my naked body. He settles next to me, still naked below the waist. John reaches behind Milo and grabs him by the ass, pulling him flush against me. The only sound that comes out of Milo in the process is a small squeak. His face nearly collides with mine and I have to turn it just slightly so his nose rests by my ear. I can feel the rapid beating from his heart thumping against my crossed arms on my chest. 

“That's right.” John purrs drunkenly, “I want both ma boys to keep warm. Ain't wanting y'all to freeze tonight.” 

Milos cheek rubs against my own. His face is soft. He's just shaved tonight - even though his stubble comes in slower than molasses. 

“Good…” John slides one arm underneath both our bodies and embraces us. He mutters something else incomprehensible and then stills. I'm wide awake now but I don't dare move.  We lay in the awkward embrace for a period of time that I can't measure. My entire body is wound up tight, like encased in a thick clay, suffocating. It isn’t until John finally sighs, rolls over, and begins to snore that I relax even the slightest. 

Milo moves suddenly, pulling his face back just enough that I can rest my check back on the pillow. His nose brushes against mine. The close proximity is more than awkward. I think he’s about to pull back further, when he lifts his entire body up. He places a hand on John’s shoulder, giving it a brave, little shake, and asks, “...Mr. Miller?”

John mutters in his sleep, shrugging his hand off. He must have drank much more than usual. Milo slowly lowers himself back down onto the bed. He plops his head beside mine and then stares at me. This is dangerous. I want to move away but directly behind me is someone I’d rather not wake up.  

He lifts his head one more time, frozen in place, listening to something. Milo's breathing is coming heavier, it hits my neck in small puffs. These small movements stir something inside of me. I can’t feel Milo’s beating heart anymore due to my own pulse’s increasing pace. I feel his hand on my cheek and he lowers himself back in front of me. His eyes meet mine and for a split second he looks down. He moves towards me, his lips barely grazing mine. 

Wait. No, what are we doing? Even if John is asleep, we can’t be doing this. He’ll know. He always knows. And if he doesn’t know, he’ll find out.

I mouth the words Milo , pushing against his shoulders and shaking my head slowly. What has gotten into him? Into me? I turn my hips into the mattress, trying to ignore the primal ache. 

Milo doesn’t say anything. He turns around and inches to the other side of the mattress for the rest of the night. 

Chapter Text

I tried to brush off what John said about Milo: how he slept around with other boys from the orphanage. But then I saw he enjoyed kissing John after the stitches were removed and again last night. I know I haven’t known him long but he seemed like he wasn’t acting like himself. The Milo I know would have at least tried to protest John’s advances, not throw himself at the man. At least, that’s what kind of character I thought Milo was. 

And then he tried to kiss me. He was putting both of us at risk. John always knows when you've done something that you shouldn't have, no matter how sneaky you try to be. Hiding it only makes it worse. He should have just went to the bathroom and jacked off.   

I can't get the sight of him clawing at John for more attention out of my head. There's no way that he wanted to do that on his own accord. He had to be on something. What did John call him? A libertine? What is that? 

My mind runs endlessly the next day. I go outside and begin the daily chores. I welcome the warm rays from the sun and try to avoid the puddles beginning to form on top of the melting snow. Maybe spring will come early this year. Molly trots up to me and begins eating the oats I tossed in for her. Her lips smack together, scooping up the feed. 

I watch Milo haul two buckets of feed out for the cows. He had gotten ready after I left the room and has been trying his darndest to avoid me. 

Does he treat everyone like that? What turns him on so much about John? If he likes sex that much, why doesn’t he just throw himself at John? Why bother asking me if I had a ‘type’ or pretend that he didn’t like kissing John? That last part was obviously a lie. The more I think about last night, the angrier I get. Was Milo just trying to use me in case John didn’t use him? Was he turned on the night that John raped me in front of him?

I return to the barn, kicking a tin bucket as hard as I can. It flies behind one of  the hay bales. Stupid Milo, why couldn’t he just leave me alone? He knows that I regret getting close to Oliver for this very same reason. 

And now I have a bucket to retrieve. Squeezing my way past the only opening between the barn wall and the hay bundle, I come into a small space. Small streams of light flood in from the outside. My eyes scan the ground for any sign of the thing, but instead, I find something else that I can’t explain. 

It’s a long silver pole - four or five feet in length. One end sticks into the hay on the barn floor and the other holds a curved, bowl like structure. Around the pole are a number of colourful buttons and a black, shiny square. I wrap my hand around the pole, it’s too big for my fingers to grasp all the way around. My finger runs gently over the buttons. They’re made of some kind of glass - I think - and have strange writing all over them. I examine the symbols and realise that I recognize one of them from somewhere, I just can’t remember how.

I gently tap the black square and to my surprise, it lights up. I drop the pole. Symbols begin appearing on the now white backdrop. A few of the buttons light up in a way that I haven’t seen before. Is it a weapon? I back up cautiously, waiting to see what it does. A few moments later, the square goes dark again and the buttons stop flashing colours. I pick it up gently and place it back against the wall, careful not to touch the square again. 

What is this thing? I look around the room to check if there’s anything else, but nothing other than my lost bucket is here. I pick the bucket up and back away from the strange object. Is this something John owns? If so, why does he have it? And for what reason?

Wait. I return to the odd object. I carefully touch the black square again. From top to bottom, symbols fall through the white, glowing part of the square and disappear behind the black border. Strange, they look familiar but I can’t quite place my finger on it. 

The light disappears from the object. I press it one more time and watch the symbols more carefully this time. A familiar one flashes at the end. It’s the symbol of Nova, I’m sure of it. I want to make sure though. Maybe I could get a page from one of those books and see if any of the symbols match up to the ones on the screen…but how? I can’t get into the basement and I don’t want to cause any trouble to get myself put down there. Plus, even if I get myself dragged down there, I might not even get the opportunity to get my hands on the book.

Hold on, didn’t Oliver say that his parents had a book? And Rachel is living with them! Maybe if I can talk to her, I can get her to remove a page or even copy some of the letters out from inside. 

I return to the main part of the barn. Although it’s empty, I feel like I’ve suddenly stumbled upon something that I wasn’t supposed to see. I’m certain that the contraption is connected to Nova or the Eternal somehow, but why did John have it in such a place? Why not the basement?

“Josh!” Sherry calls out from the veranda, “Time to eat!” 

Her voice startles me. I rush out of the barn, waving to her. She skips back inside, not before glancing back at me. Something’s off about her, I swear. 

That night John doesn't sleep in the attic, nor the night after and the night after that. He is preparing for the mass wedding that'll take place soon and I assume he's up early and working late. At least he doesn’t know what I discovered in the barn. 

Milo hasn't talked to me since he tried to kiss me. If I had to guess, he feels ashamed. I would. He faces away from me. A mere foot of mattress separating us. He always takes up the space closest to the edge of the bed and somehow falls asleep quickly. 

I have a hard time sleeping. I can't stop thinking about the thing in the barn, how odd it looked, how advanced it looked. I need to find a way to talk to Rachel. I’m not sure exactly what I’ll achieve by confirming that it’s connected to Nova, but I want to find out. I went back into the barn this morning to check that it was still there, just to make sure that I wasn’t crazy.

I flip over for the first time to see Milo’s face staring back at me.

“Josh…I-I didn't…” Milo shifts uncomfortably, “Nevermind.”

It's silent for God knows how much time. The air in the room begins to noticeably cool. Winter is beginning to transition to spring but it's still chilly at night. I shrug the blanket off and walk up to the chimney. It's not radiating the same heat as it usually does. Odd, normally John and Anna keep it stocked up right before bed. 

Well, if it's out or low on fuel, I'd better go downstairs and fix that. I walk up to the door, ankle aching from the cold. I turn the knob and it catches on the lock. I don't remember John locking the door last night. I check the old clock on the wall: midnight. At least it won't get too much colder than it already is, or at least I hope. 

I return to bed, wrapping the blankets around me. Milo shifts closer, trying to recover himself after the blanket I stole. Why would John snuff the fire? Did he forget to restock it before bed?