Page 1 of Viking Ink

Prologue

RHYS

What was left of my laptop lay shattered in front of me, and my father’s shiny black shoes filled my field of vision where I lay crumpled on the floor. I choked back a sob as I watched him bring his foot down heavily on the laptop. The loud crunch and crack of plastic made me flinch and try to curl against myself tighter. I lay there staring at the dust bunnies under my bed, waiting for him to turn his ire onto me, but thankfully the blows didn’t come. This time.

“That’s that. No more of that in my house! Grown men should not be engaging in those disgusting activities. It’s filth, boy!” His voice rose louder as another pair of shoes came into view—the drab, sensible shoes my stepmother preferred to wear.

“Your father is right as always, Rhys. If you continue down this path, your eternal soul will not find salvation,” she said in that condescending tone she always used when she was sermonising at me.

I should have hidden the laptop better.

It had been a gift from my grandad for my twentieth birthday, since he’d known that anything I looked at on the computer was strictly vetted by my stepmother and dad. I could only go on a few sites, and even then, my stepmother watched over my shoulder. Grandad said I needed my independence, to see what was going on in the world—and not through my parents’ hate-tinted glasses.

My laptop had helped me explore what I wanted from life, and helped me understand who I was. Those quirks and differences that had always painted me as ‘wrong’ in my father and stepmother’s eyes, I now saw through a clearer lens. I had never admitted to anyone that I was gay, but I think my grandad knew, and the laptop was his way of showing me that I was not wrong or sinful. Of course, I was a healthy curious young man with the internet, and I stumbled upon things that both shocked and surprised me.

And then I found a site devoted to Daddies and Littles.

It was that site that opened my eyes to a world I hadn’t known existed.

Unfortunately, I’d been browsing the site when my father had chosen to barge into my room. He was supposed to be on late shift at the station since they were a man down until a new constable arrived from London, so I hadn’t expected him to burst into my room, still dressed in his uniform, eyes blazing. Seeing the laptop had sent him into a rage, and before I had a chance to close the browser, he’d ripped it from my hands.

The backhander that followed knocked me off the bed, and led to where I was now, huddled on the floor while my father destroyed the laptop, all the while spouting his hate-filled words.

“Husband, I believe it’s time we dealt with this problem. I think it’s time we sent him to the farm. Father Gordon will have him seeing things clearer.”

I felt ill.

The farm was a horrible place, and nothing like the name suggested. My Father’s church advertised it as being a place of contemplation and religious learning, when in fact it was nothing more than a forced religious conversion camp. I’d been sent there when I was sixteen, my father hoping the back breaking labour and appalling conditions would make me more malleable, more compliant to his will, but all it had done was enforce the desire to leave home as soon as I could.

I’d vowed never to let myself be sent back to the farm.

I’d also made an anonymous call to Social Services, in the hope they would investigate and shut the place down, but my father had been able to use his position and natural charm to smooth over the accusations. If I was sent there again, I didn’t know if I was strong enough to remain true to myself. It would be the end of me.

My mum’s last words rang in my head. “You are who you are meant to be, Rhys, and neither God nor your father have the right to deny you being your true self.” I’d been too young when she said that to truly understand it, but I did now.

Resolve filled my chest.

No longer was I going to stay here and have my life ruled over by this tyrant. I was a grown man, and I wanted a life away from him and this damn town.

I kept still, waiting until they left the room. I heard the familiar snick as my father locked the door behind them. It didn’t bother me—I had long ago learned how to sneak out. They wouldn’t bother checking on me through the night.

Crawling carefully across the floor, I stopped in front of the ruined laptop. Dull anger was now replaced with action. Retrieving the small tool set I had hidden under my bed, I set to work opening the back of the computer and retrieving the hard drive. It was probably useless now, but I wouldn’t put it past my father to take it in to his work and have one of his techs try to retrieve any information on it.

In truth there wasn’t much at all on it, only a few emails that grandad and I had sent, but they were enough to confirm I’d been planning on leaving town, running away. There were also some eBooks and videos that if my father or stepmother saw, they would combust into flames. My first smile of the evening spread across my face thinking how embarrassed my dad would be if the computer techs at his station found my porn stash. The smile turned into a sigh. I knew he’d just twist it into something evil and sinful and make me out to be some sick pervert who needed his father’s firm guidance—and they’d believe him, I was sure of it.

I dropped the hard drive on my bed and set about working out what I could take. My guitar was a no brainer. I could at least try to make some money busking. It was still in its soft case so I could carry it easily. Next was my old battered knapsack, and jeans, T-shirts and a jumper. I hid the small amount of cash I had squirrelled away in a pair of socks, burying them deep in the pack. It wasn’t much but it would have to be enough.

Listening with my ear pressed to the door, I heard the TV. Dad would be asleep in his armchair soon, and my stepmother would be doing her puzzles. I had just one more important thing to grab before I left. I went to the hiding spot in my cupboard, lifting a loose board. I pulled out the plastic bag and checked the contents, letting my fingers stroke the soft fur inside. Mr Ted, and a small scrap of baby blanket—both the most important things in the world to me.

“Mr Ted, we’re out of here,” I whispered, wrapping the bag up securely and placing him inside my pack.

I could be brave for both of us.

The nails that held my window shut were easily pried out—I’d done it numerous times in the past. I’d never gone further than sitting on the rooftop, hidden by the dark and dreaming of a life away from this village, but tonight, I would be leaving.

And never coming back.

Chapter 1

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