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Oblivious
Chapter One
Isaac
I looked into the mirror and stared at myself. ‘I’m ugly,’ I thought to myself. ‘No wonder no one likes me. I’m ugly, and tainted’. I’ve been abused, and raped. Worst combination ever. What makes matters worse; my own father rapes me. He’s a drunk no doubt, but still, his own son? I’m always told I look like a girl. I don’t think so. Girls are pretty. I’m ugly. My eyes are like ice, and I hold nothing inside of them. Sure my body is thin and I have hips, but I have no figure. I go straight up and down, unlike a girl. My hair is extremely shaggy. Black with light brown streaks everywhere. My bangs are almost down to my shoulders and I have never made an effort to style it. It just sits there in my face all day. I guess that’s a good thing so no one can see how ugly I am. I have a scar on my right cheekbone from when my father first raped me. A night I’ll never forget...
“Daddy!” The small boy cried as his father came home from work. His father smashed his happy cries as he walked right past his son without even looking at him. “Daddy?” The boy questioned.
“Not now Isaac, Daddy’s had a hard day and just wants a drink.” The man walked into his den, leaving the small nine-year-old boy to himself. The boy didn’t understand what was going on with his father. When his dad came home from work, he’d always pick up the little boy in his arms, kiss him on the forehead and ask how his day went. The two would then go outside and play for awhile until Isaac’s mother would come out and tell them dinner was ready. Tonight…tonight was different and the little boy knew it. After dinner the bright, blue-eyed child was carried to his room by his mother.
“Good night Isaac. Sweet dreams!” Isaac’s mother said as she turned on the boy’s Spiderman nightlight. Isaac snuggled up into his covers and quickly found himself asleep.
“Get up! Get up you lazy boy!” Slurred a large man. Isaac was jolted awake by his father. The man picked up the boy and threw him at the door. “You scream and I’ll hurt you.” Isaac didn’t dare make a sound. Isaac’s father dragged the boy into the den where he tore his clothes off. Isaac didn’t know what was going on or why his father wanted him naked. The man smelled heavily of alcohol. The father took a rag and shoved it down the helpless boy’s mouth. He then without warning or explanation shoved himself into his son’s body. Isaac yelped in pain as his father began thrusting in and out of his bottom. His screams were muffled by the towel. Just as quickly as it started-it end. The large man pulled himself out of his own son’s body. He took the raggedy towel from the boy’s mouth. Isaac bit his father’s hand and his father immediately slapped him. The small boy flew across the room. He slumped into the floor. His father picked him up once again and a searing pain surged into the boy’s right cheek.
“You fell of your bike and that’s how you got that scar. If you say anything different…I’ll kill your mother.”
“Isaac, sweetie?” My mom called from downstairs. It was late at night but outside was still warm and humid. Louisiana is always like that, nasty weather. I ran down the stairs and went into the kitchen. Our house is cute, two-stories with three bedrooms. I’m an only child. My…father, John…works till eight at night. It was time for him to be coming home. He told me after the first time he…raped me that if I told anyone, he’d kill my mother. He seems to love her but he obviously doesn’t want me saying anything to anyone.
“Hey family!” I heard his booming voice say. I wanted to run away but I had to set the kitchen table. We eat late, usually around eight but sometimes nine. It’s not too bad actually.
“How was work darling?” My mother asked as she set the mashed potatoes on the table. I had to get the plates and my father was in my way. I hate having to look at him. I could feel his stare upon me.
“I need the plates dad.” I said softly. He raised his eyebrows and frowned upon me before turning around to get the plates. Why is he always so suspicious? I’d never tell on him. I don’t want my mother to be killed. The least thing he could do is trust me. I set the table and sat down, as did my father. He glared at me as I drank some of my water. I wanted to run into my room and cry. My mother was beaming with her beautiful smile. My father is lucky to have her. She is a young wife. Blonde curls, toned body, beautiful skin, bright blue eyes gleaming with joy. She is proud of this family, only because she doesn’t know what goes on behind closed doors. My father loves to get drunk in the obscene late hours of the night and beat me, however if I’m lucky, he’ll just rape me and call it a day. However that hurts like hell too. She sat down to our ham steak, mashed potato, and string bean dinner and looked at me.
“Is there something wrong honey?” She asked me looking concerned. I felt my father’s glare heat up and just silently shook my head. My father began scooping out the meal for himself and my mother served me some string beans. I smiled at her. I loved my mother so much. She would do anything for me. She’s the best woman ever to walk this Earth. How could God be so cruel to her to give her a fuckup for a son, and an asshole for a husband? She deserves so much better. We ate dinner talking about our day, or well actually, my father and mother talked about their day.
“What did you do today sweetie?” My mother asked me smiling. I looked up at her and sighed.
“Nothing like usual.” I said sullenly as I stuffed mashed potatoes into my mouth.
“Now why don’t you have any friends to go hang out with son?” My father asked me, his voice booming and loud as he chomped on his ham.
“No one would like me.” I said once again with a sullen tone. I played with my string beans, knowing my mother would say something to cheer me up.
“I’m sure they would sweetie. You’re a sweet boy. A little shy, but you are such a good boy.” My mother said as she cut her ham into smaller parts for herself. Told you.
“No they wouldn’t. I’m too strange for them,” I said.
“Why’s that?” My father asked putting salt on his mashed potatoes.
“I’m just different. I look different. No one would like me.” I said before jamming my ham into my mouth so they would quit talking to me.
“Well I think you’re being too hard on yourself sweetie.” My mother said. Sure mom. Whatever you say. Why would anyone want to be friends with someone who has been raped, and beaten by their own father?
“Next school year I think we should enroll him in an actual high school. I think it’s time for you’re mother to stop being your teacher and start relaxing for a change.” My father said obviously thinking that his word is law and whatever he says goes. Sadly that’s how it really is.
“Sounds like a lovely idea. I’d love to have more time to spend cleaning this house and it would be a lot easier for you to make friends sweetie!” She exclaimed.
After dinner was finished I helped my mother clean the dishes. My father went into his study, most likely to drink, meaning I’d be getting a beating tonight.
I went upstairs and got ready for bed. I was scared to fall asleep tonight. I kept thinking, ‘What is he going to do to me tonight?’ I wouldn’t stop picturing events. My own father jamming his…you know…inside of me as he held a towel in my mouth so I wouldn’t scream out in pain. It happens a lot. But each time it only gets worse. I wish I were to die sometimes. I have no friends, no future, why am I here God? Why do you do this to me? Why can’t I be with you? Why don’t you love me God? God, why don’t you answer me? I’m scared here. I’m alone here. My mother is all I have and all I do is hurt her without her even knowing. I’m always lying to her. Why can’t she at least have a better life? Why did you give her me? Why did you give her my father? God? Are you real? Why don’t you help us? Why don’t you help me?
My father came into my room at four-thirty in the morning smelling of pot and alcohol. He pulled me out of my bed and shoved me out of the room. He pushed me down the stairs causing me to fall down the last five. He shoved me into his study and pushed me to the floor.
“Kid! What the fuck are yeh thinking? Yeh think yeh can get sympathy from your mother? She doesn’t love you!” He backhanded me across the face. I didn’t want to cry. The last thing I need to do is cry in front of him.
“Why don’t you cry boy?” He slapped me across the face again and I could feel the tears building up. But I wouldn’t let them fall. “Come on boy. Cry. Cry like the lil’ fuckup yeh are!” He slurred.
He pulled me closer to him and revealed a towel with blood on it. It was the towel he always uses on me. The towel that he’s used since I was nine. Nine years of age and I was already being raped by my father. The bruises on my body could be hidden by makeup. But the scares he has given me from raping me…to deep to even bear. He pulled my shorts off slowly as I shook in fear. I couldn’t fight back. I just lay there waiting for him to force himself inside of me. He laughed a menacing laugh before tying my hands to the sofa so I couldn’t get away. I wouldn’t have tried to get away. I’m too scared of what he might do.
He removed his own pants before shoving himself inside of me. No condemn, no preparation. Just force. The towel was shoved into my mouth and when I screamed it was only a muffled sound that only he and I could hear. The tears threatened to fall but I kept them back as long as I could. The pain became too unbearable and they began to spill down my face. He released himself inside of me and pulled out. Sweat on his face and his breath panting. He untied the bonds on my wrists and took the towel out of my mouth.
“Remember our little deal. You tell anyone…I kill your mother.” He said before he stumbled out of the room. I sat there crying. I hated him. Hated him! I wish I could kill him but I can’t. My mother would be so crushed to have a son who killed his own father. And no one would believe me about him raping me. He’s a hard worker. Good man. Bunch of bullshit actually but to everyone else…it was true. I went into the bathroom and cleaned myself up. I washed the cum that was dripping down my leg mixed with my own blood off. I took a shower unable to get this dirty feeling to go away. I began to cry again. After I was finished I looked at myself in the mirror once again and began to cry heavily. Is that all I’m good for? Crying? My whole body shook as the tears fell down my face. Then the door opened. It was my mother. She too was crying. She came to me and held me. I was confused. I didn’t tell her! I didn’t tell her! Does she know? No! Please God if you do only one thing for me…please don’t let her know. Please.
“I hear you cry every night. And I don’t know why. And it makes me cry. Please tell me what’s wrong!” She doesn’t know! Oh God thank you! Thank you!
“I don’t know Mom. I just, I don’t have friends and I can’t make them!” I sobbed. I was lying to her face once again. Hurting her in ways she would never know. I couldn’t stand myself. I hated myself.
“Sweetie, you are an amazing boy. I have a friend who has a son your age or a year older I’m not quite sure honestly. I’ll have them come over tomorrow and you can meet him. I’m sure he’ll like you.” She said stroking my wet hair. “Come on sweetie. Let’s put you to bed.” She led me to my room and tucked me into my bed. I’m a sixteen-year-old boy who still loves it when his mother tucks him into bed.
“Goodnight sweetie.” She said as she leaned over me and kissed my forehead. I smiled up at her and she left the room. I turned over and stared out the window. I love my mom.
“My friend Susan Stapleton has a boy a year younger than you. He’s home schooled and doesn’t have any friends. Susan and I both think that you two will have a lot in common and be friends!” My mother said happily. ‘Oh Martha. I’m sure this kid and I will have nothing in common. Like let’s say our taste in men? Oh and the fact that I hate people.’
“Here it is!” My mother said happily. It was a cute house; average sized, two-storied house. The landscaping alongside the driveway was like a waveform of flowerbeds with a cobblestone walkway. The grass was a lush green, still something not often seen in Louisiana. We walked up to the doorway and my mother rang the doorbell. A few seconds later my mother’s friend Mrs. Stapleton opened the door. Her blonde curly hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes are always a lively shade of blue. So bright…it’s actually quite amazing.
“Why hello Martha!” She said happily hugging my mother. She turned to me and smiled brightly. “Andrew, I haven’t seen you since you were a little baby!” I stepped back making sure she knew I didn’t want a hug. She looked over at my mother and smiled. “Oh Andrew! You’re hair is simply amazing! Do you get it professionally cut? I love the color!” My hair is choppy and layered. No don’t go to professionals…I don’t trust them. I do it myself. I dye it myself also…I don’t trust anyone. My hair is a dark auburn currently, but I’m thinking of just dying it black.
“I do everything myself. Hair stylists don’t know anything,” I said. She blinked for a few moments then smiled.
"You and Isaac dress somewhat alike. Isaac doesn’t like wearing “boy pants,” he thinks he they make him look fat. The boy is a stick!” My mother and Mrs. Stapleton giggled at the petty front door conversation.
“Andrew like’s tight clothes. I’ve yet to know why though.” My mother sighed. Uh you do know I’m standing right here? Stupid, oblivious woman. Let me put this in a way you can understand, and what I’ve been telling you for over almost five years now…I’m gay! I like looking attractive. Not ugly and like I haven’t showered. You fucking dumb ass why am I your son?
“My son Isaac is sixteen. He’ll be seventeen in October.” She said walking into the kitchen with us following behind.
“My God Susan! This house is amazing how on Earth do you keep it so clean?” My mother asked gasping. Ugh…women talk.
“No pets and one child.” Susan giggled out. Poor kid, he doesn’t even have a dog. She sat down at the island counter and motioned for my mother to do the same. “Andrew, your mother and I have a lot of catching up to do. Isaac is in his room which is up the stairs and two doors down on the left.” She explained. I nodded and reluctantly went to go see this freak show. Home schooled. I’ll bet he’s a computer geek and is way to smart for my own good. I knocked on the door and heard movement. A small boy with an expression of fear on his face opened the door.
“You’re sixteen?” I asked flabbergasted. He is tiny!
“Uh, yeah. I know I’m kind of small.” He said softly averting his icy eyes from mine. He was a lot different than what I pictured. He doesn’t look like a geek. He just looks lonely.
“Uh, you can come in if you’d like.” He said shyly. I stepped inside and looked around the room. The walls were dark blue with a bunch of posters of bands: The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, The Who, The Police and Cream. Yeah not my kind of bands but hey they started most of what we call music today. There were other bands but I didn’t know the names if they didn’t have their name on the poster already like the others did. His bed was unmade with a navy quilt and white sheets and pillows. He had a stuffed t-rex on his bed. He still sleeps with a stuffed animal, how cute.
“Um…I’m Isaac.” He said holding out his hand. I nodded and turned to him.
“Andrew.” I said not taking his hand. He looked nervous and retracted his hand and shoved it into is pocket.
“You don’t have to stay here.” He said sadly. I turned to look at him again and this time I really looked at him. He had a bruise on his left cheekbone that he was obviously trying to cover with makeup. His eyes were like his mother’s only they weren’t happy. They held nothing. I started to feel bad about how I was acting. I was being a huge jerk to the kid without realizing that he doesn’t come in contact with kids much, or at all. I mean I don’t like any other emotion besides hate and disgust…but I was beginning to feel kind of…bad.
“Actually yes I do. My mom drove me here and I can’t walk home. It’s too far.” I said still not snapping out of my jerk-self yet.
“Oh. Um, what do ya wanna do?” He asked still nervously. He was rocking back and forth most likely subconsciously. I shrugged. Sadly I was enjoying making him nervous. He had no idea how to talk to another teenager. Tears started to well up in the corners of his eyes. I didn’t know how sensitive he was. Ok jerk time is over.
“Oh, hey I’m sorry!” I exclaimed gently putting my hands on his shoulders. He jerked back quickly and looked into my eyes. His lips were quivering and his whole body was shaking. What has happened to this kid? Why is there a bruise on his cheek, and why is he trying to hide it with cheap makeup…why did he react that way when I touched him?
“What’s happened to you?” I asked softly. He shook his head nervously still walking backwards. “Oh watch out!” I said as he fell over a box on his floor. He fell to the floor and didn’t get up. He just sat there looking down at the floor. It was slightly pathetic, and…heartbreaking.
“My first chance to actually talk to someone and I blow it by being the way I am,” he said sadly. A lot of bad things have happened to this kid. No one would be this messed up if nothing has ever happened to him.
“You didn’t blow it.” I said softly, sitting down beside him. “I was just being a jackass on purpose to make you even more nervous.” I felt like a selfish bastard.
“Oh.” He said. Oh? Usually people would either be upset or hit me. Oh?
“I’m sorry. Here lets start over. Hi, I’m Andrew Page.” I said happily holding out my hand. He looked at it and then looked up slowly into my eyes again.
“Isaac.” He said taking my hand as we slowly shook the other’s hand. His grip was soft. Neither of us had a firm grip. Maybe we do have the same interest in men.
“So no more being nervous ok?” I said leaning forward so I could see into his eyes under all his hair. He had a mop top…it looked cute on him though, not going to lie.
“Ok.” He said a little more firmly than before. I smiled at him and he smiled gently back.
“So you’re music taste is a few years out of date. Let me show you some bands I think you might like.” I said getting up and going over to his computer. He followed and let me pick out new bands for him. He liked a few, didn’t like most but whatever it’s cool. Isaac wasn’t as bad as I thought he was going to be. But something bad has happened to him, and I’m going to find out.
: D
