Page 80 of Loving Trent
Josiah’s brown eyes aren’t brown anymore. They are black and sinister looking. If evil had a color, it would be this. This man, who claims to serve a God that loves us all, could serve as the poster boy for the fucking devil. After what happened to me, I turned my back on religion, and I don’t think anyone would blame me. However, as I got older, it was easy to see that Josiah, Tom and Sandy used something that was supposed to embody love, acceptance, and being a good person, for their darkness.They twisted it into a weapon. A weapon that they used to get their rocks off by hurting people.
Seeing determination in Josiah’s dark eyes, I know that I’m going to have to push him to his breaking point before he talks. I’m going to have to make him desperate for things to stop, but it will be my pleasure. I dig my nails into his face as I bring mine closer. “Don’t think for a second that you will sit here holding onto all your secrets. Because you’re not.”
I let go of his face and turn away from him. Josiah doesn’t know the darkness he created in me. He has no clue that heading his way is a truckload of repressed hurt and anger with a beast at the wheel. But he will in a second. I head over to one of the tables and scan the items waiting there for my personal use. Sitting to the right of multiple knives, a hammer, and different-sized screwdrivers is a bucket with a cloth over the rim. I suspect it’s supposed to be used to clean up the blood that will be spilled, but I have a better idea. I grab it, pulling the cloth out, which I hold out for one of the men to take. Sonny steps forward and takes it from me.
Without looking at the others, I head into the attached bathroom. I don’t waste time looking around because nothing here matters to me except the sink. Sitting the bucket under the tap, I turn it on and let it fill to the top. Once it’s done, I head back out into the bedroom. Demon has moved next to Josiah while Sonny is standing behind him. Leon is leaning against the wall beside the bathroom door.
“Water torture,” he says, and an evil grin spreads on my face as Josiah’s eyes widen.
“I learned a long time ago to never let someone know your weakness. Once you do, they can twist and turn it into a weapon,” I say as I set the bucket down right out of Josiah’s reach. His feet–just like his hands–are chained to the chair, but there looks to be a little room in the chains, and he wouldkick the bucket over given the chance. “When Betty and I were younger, we begged for a swimming pool, but Josiah never let us get one.
“Instead, Eve took us to a small pond that one of their friends had on their property. One day, I asked why Josiah never came swimming with us and why he seemed scared when water splashed him on his face. I mean, he was terrified if any water touched his face. Even when it rained, he would shield his face and run through it if he went out at all. Eve told me a story about how, when Josiah was eight, he almost drowned in a pool. It terrified me, but she promised that nothing like that would happen to me, and I believed her,” I say, bending down and gripping Josiah’s face once again.
“She didn’t know it then, but she was giving me the greatest weapon I could use against you. See, I could use one of the knives or hell, even that whip on the other table, but you aren’t afraid of a little pain, are you?” I let go of his face and walk over to the other table. Sitting right next to the whip are a few plastic cups. I snatch one up and toss it into the air. When my hand connects to the plastic, the chains behind me rattle as if Josiah jumped at the sound. Turning around, I love the sight of tears pooling in his eyes as he stares at the bucket.
“You have one chance to answer me willingly. How did you meet Stanley and?—”
“Please...” A sob cuts off Josiah’s plea, and I’m glad because I don’t want to hear it.
“Hold him,” I say.
I’m sure that I could have stopped after pouring one cup of water over Josiah’s face while Sonny held the cloth over it, but I didn’t. Instead, I used a whole bucket of water before pulling the wet cloth away.
“Talk!”
Josiah’s head falls forward, his chest is heaving, and his whole body is trembling, but I don’t care. “I knew…” he whispers, and that won’t do.
Grabbing a handful of his hair, I pull his head up. “Speak up! Act like a man. Isn’t that what you used to tell me when I cried over something? Don’t act shy or scared now.”
Josiah’s eyes are closed, and I can’t tell if that is water dripping down his face or tears. “I knew what you were before I found your journal,” he says, and I let go of his head to step back. He doesn’t drop his head again or lower his voice. “I told your mother that you were a little fag?—”
Sonny moves quickly before anyone else can. The punch he throws is hard and packed full of rage. Josiah’s head snaps to the left so hard I’m momentarily afraid his neck broke. “You will tell your story without degrading Trent or anyone else. Do you understand? You will not hurt him anymore with your bigoted words.” Love floods my system, softening the blow of the word Josiah almost said.
“I started to do research, trying to find a place that we could send you. It wasn’t until I talked to a member of our church who said he heard about a camp in Arkansas helping people in a similar situation that I found a solution. He gave me the number, and I called it, but the man said that he couldn’t come up and asked if I would come to him. I disguised it as a work trip and met with them.” Josiah spits blood onto the floor and finally lifts his head up.
“But it wasn’t until I was…”
“When I was there, something happened and I thought twice about it,” Josiah says, finally opening his eyes. They are still black as night and hold so much hatred that I’m shocked I’m not bowled over by it.
“The kidnapping of Jarred Bellville and the attempted kidnapping of Henry White,” Leon says right before he steps up beside me.
“I didn’t know anything about that until the police contacted me the morning after I toured the camp,” Josiah says. But something deep inside of me says he’s lying. I reach down to grab the cloth. When Josiah sees what I’m about to do, he thrashes and screams, “Wait. Okay. Okay. I knew about it. Stanley or Bert, as I knew him, called me and told me to bring the van to him that night. I did, and then he told me to call the police to report it missing, so I did. The next day, I was interrogated about the van being used in a kidnapping. I got scared and flew back to Missouri.”
“What did they have on you?” Demon asks from where he’s standing behind Josiah. “I don’t believe you went along with their plan without them having anything on you. So, what is it? Because I looked into you and couldn’t find anything that would make you…”
I can’t explain how I know what happened when Josiah visited that camp, but I do. It sinks into my skin and sours everything. It curls around all my organs and threatens to undo me from the inside out. “You…” My breathing kicks up as a cold bead of sweat rolls down my back.
Sonny reaches out and lays his hand against my chest. The move pushes my ring into my skin, and the feel of that little symbol of my love calms me. “Take a deep breath. If this is too much, you can leave, and we will continue. I’ve got you, Son.”
“No, I need to hear it,” I growl out. I place my hand over Sonny’s and press it harder, needing the bite of pain to center me. “You partook in the abuse at the camp.”
“What the fuck?” Leon exclaims, and luckily, Demon is quick on his feet because he catches Leon before he makes it to Josiah.
“Those… Those…” Josiah looks straight at me and unleashes all the evil inside of him. “People like you need…”
Darkness, darker than dark, covers me and unleashes the beast inside me. The beast towers in front of the thirteen-year-old version, hiding in a corner, covering his ears. My hands wrap around Josiah’s throat. “They were children! I was a fucking child! There is nothing wrong with us. It’s not a choice, just like having brown hair or being born a male is not a choice. What we need is love, understanding, and acceptance. Not abuse or being raped.” My throat hurts from how loud I’m yelling, but I don’t care.
“Let him go,” Leon says as his hands try to pull me back.
