Tied Together Read Free Page A

searing pain. Fifteen times my father hit me and fifteen welts had formed on my back. This wasn’t the first time my dad had beaten me. It was almost as if he’d made a sport out of it.
    I remembered when I was eleven years old and some boys in my class made fun of me because I liked to bury my head in my books rather than play baseball with them. I’d run home crying and, of course, my dad was home from a job he’d just been fired from. His breath reeked of beer and smoke. He slurred his words when he said things like “you’re a pussy” and “only faggots don’t play sports.” He made me go outside and pick out a tree branch that was pliable. I wasn’t sure what he meant, so I dried my eyes and went searching for a branch. I found one, thinking he would be proud of me for doing something he asked.
    I had vivid memories of the sound the branch made the first time it hit my skin. They would forever be burned not only on my skin, but in my brain. He said he thought he would toughen me up, and there was no way in hell he would have a homo for a son. He would rather die than feel the shame.
    He threatened that if I told anyone what happened, he would make sure I wouldn’t be able to walk. I couldn’t breathe a word to my teachers or go to the police. From then on, he knew I was the only thing he could control since his own life was a never-ending downward spiral. The abuse was the only life I had ever known.
    I needed to get out of that place and be free of the secret that weighed heavily on my shoulders.

    I went to school the next day and tried to ignore the pain in my back. I thought hard the night before about speaking to the school counselor. The risk of being removed from my home had to be better than getting the shit kicked out of me. On the flip side, I would be turning eighteen soon and headed to college. Was it worth getting everyone involved when I was so close to seeing the light at the end of the tunnel?
    Maybe going to the cops would be better. I certainly had enough evidence on my back to prove what had happened. I also faced the fear that no one would believe me. I’d heard about stories about teens who would self-mutilate for attention. Although nothing in my past suggested I would do something like that, it still spooked me enough not to try it.
    “What are you doing, douchebag?” Ted pushed me face-first into my locker. He was the resident football all-star and dickhead. The pain from my back seared through my entire body, making me go weak in the knees. Ted had been bullying me since freshman year simply because I was quiet and kept to myself. Apparently that made me an easy target.
    “What are you reading today? Ladies’ Home Journal ? Better Homes and Gardens ?” Ted’s cohorts, who followed him around like he was their idol, laughed like hyenas. He took my bag, which had fallen off my shoulder, and unzipped it. He proceeded to throw books onto the floor so he could evaluate the contents.
    “ Wuthering Heights ? Only pussies and fags read this shit. Are you a faggot? Maybe that’s what I’ll call you from now on— Faggot Ford .” He let out a maniacal laugh. A crowd of students gathered around to watch the spectacle. “Hey, everyone!” Ted yelled, raising his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Let me introduce you to Faggot Ford .”
    There were bursts of laughter and cackling. Some people whispered to each other, but no one stood up and called Ted out for his disgusting behavior. Between Ted’s hateful words and my father’s abuse, I felt there was no option but to keep my secret. I would have to suffer through keeping my deepest desires and fantasies to myself. I knew if I told anyone the truth, the teasing and bullying would just get worst. I just had to get used to the idea that I’d have to endure this torture until I could get out of this town.

 

     
    I climbed the steel stairs of the bleachers and weaved my way through the crowd to find a seat. I was at the