7. Isaac

7

ISAAC

Eleven Years Ago

T he roads were slick from the rain that had spent the last three hours falling. It was early November, but the temperature hadn't dropped enough for the rain to freeze. Still, the car swayed slightly from side to side.

Isaac looked over at his uncle and felt a cold chill run through his body. His uncle's eyes were glassy, same as they always were these days. Ever since the factory cut back on shift hours, his uncle had spent more and more time sitting in the living room drinking his beer and whiskey.

Who was he kidding? His uncle's drinking problem had started long before the factory cut their crew's hours. Ever since Isaac had been a small boy, his uncle had always had this strange look in his eyes coupled with an explosive temper. But when you are six, that look doesn't mean much to you. It was only shortly after Isaac turned eleven that he and his big brother went to live with their Uncle Jed.

Their father had crashed his car and died after a particularly hard rainstorm, leaving him and his brother in the sole custody of their father's brother. The alcoholic. It's not like there was anyone else left to take them in. His mother was dead and so were his grandparents. So, who else was left but the raging alcoholic uncle?

"Where are we going?" Isaac asked, glancing at his uncle.

The man's eyes were heavy, but he kept them focused on the road ahead.

Sweat formed on his uncle's forehead. Another common trait of his uncle's. The man barely seemed to notice.

"To see some buddies of mine. I've been tellin' 'em all about ya, and they said you should come on round."

There was something about his uncle's tone that didn't sit well with Isaac. Why would he be talking about him with his friends, and why were they going to see them so late at night?

Isaac rubbed his arm and winced. He looked down at the black and purple bruise and grimaced. Another reminder that his uncle was an asshole, and he needed to find better places to hide.

They pulled up to a tiny bungalow on a rundown street about twenty minutes from where they lived. Honestly, Isaac could see why someone who lived in a place like this would be friends with his drunken-ass uncle. The place screamed deadbeat and poor life choices.

"Come 'n, let's get inside," his uncle slurred once again. Drinking and driving in this part of Ireland was a regular occurrence. As a pedestrian, you just got used to staying away from swerving cars.

His uncle knocked twice, then stepped back from the door and grabbed the side of the wall for support.

"Hey, Jeddy!" a large man with a salt-and-pepper-colored beard greeted. The man stepped back and invited them in.

"Welcome!" a second man shouted, sitting on a large brown and orange checkered couch. "Come on in and have a seat." The man threw his arm over the back of the couch and watched as they all walked in.

Isaac stumbled as his uncle pushed him forward into the living room. He rubbed his arm and winced again, having forgotten about last night's after-dinner injury. A dinner that he made for himself consisting of peanut butter and jam on a slice of bread because someone had forgotten to go shopping for groceries once again.

"Go on, haves a seat beside Randolf overs there," his uncle slurred.

The man reached for Isaac but somehow missed shoving his shoulder even though he was standing right next to him… not moving.

Isaac hesitated for a moment. Something felt weird about this. He glanced at the man on the couch, then back to his uncle and the man standing near the door.

What was he supposed to do? Say no, then go back out to the car and wait for his uncle to finish hanging out with his friends? Hopefully, they would all get back to their drinking and forget that he was even here.

Isaac swallowed, then made his way over to the couch next to the strange man he had never seen before in his life.

He stopped just shy of the couch and glanced over his shoulder at his uncle, who was accepting a large wad of cash from the bearded man. His uncle quickly flipped through the bills, then shoved them into his jeans.

"And how old did you say your nephew was again?" the man asked, looking over at Isaac.

Isaac's stomach turned. This didn't feel right at all.

"Just turned eighteen last month," his uncle muttered, giving Isaac an unsettling smirk.

Lies. He was fifteen, turning sixteen in three months.

"Sounds good," the man beside Isaac said, placing his hand on Isaac's shoulder.

"You be good, and Uncles Jed wills come grab ya in the mornin'," his uncle said, turning to head toward the door.

"Uncle Jed!" Isaac shouted, jumping to his feet. His heart was pounding. He knew that something was definitely wrong and didn't want to be left here alone with these men.

The large, bearded man stepped in front of Isaac and smiled.

"Don't worry, sweet thing. You get to hang out with Uncle Randolf and Uncle Martin. We're gonna have a great time together."

Isaac heard the car door slam shut, then the engine roar to life. A moment later, his stomach dropped as he listened to the tires on his uncle's car squeal as he sped off into the night.

He left him. His uncle had left him. Here, alone, in this strange house with two men he had never met before.

His hands were shaking.

The man on the couch reached over and took Isaac's hand.

"Why don't you have a seat and relax? Would you like a beer? How 'bout a hit?" The man held up a joint and took a puff.

Isaac watched the smoke from the joint leave the man's lips and disappear into the air around them. He wished that he could disappear—right here, right now.

His body began to tremble. He had no idea what to do.

The man who had greeted them at the door pushed Isaac down onto the couch and took a seat, sandwiching him in between the two of them.

"There, isn't this nice and cozy?" Martin asked, placing his hand high on Isaac's thigh.

There was no mistaking what these men intended to do.

His heart was pounding in his chest.

Did these guys pay his uncle so that they could have sex with him? Did shit like that even happen?

Next to him, Randolf placed his hand on Isaac's other thigh and began rubbing it close to his cock.

"Umm, no. I think there's been a mistake. I should probably head home," Isaac stuttered.

He didn't know what else to say. He was fifteen. No one had prepared him for what to say if someone you don't know made you feel uncomfortable.

He attempted to get up but was pulled back down by both men grabbing each of his arms.

"Hey. Not so fast there, sweet thing. Your uncle already took off with our cash. It's time for you to give us what we paid for," Martin said before leaning in and kissing Isaac's quivering neck.

"No!" Isaac shouted, shrugging off Martin's lips and pushing himself up off the couch with more force than before.

His heart was racing and warning bells everywhere were telling him that he needed to get out now before it was too late!

Randolf grabbed him by the waist and pulled him back down onto the couch.

Isaac landed on his back while Martin slid over to give his buddy more room.

"The fruit always tastes sweeter when they put up a fight," the man snarled as he leaned down for a kiss.

Panic and terror set in. He had to do something, or he was done for!

Without thinking, Isaac punched Randolf in the face and quickly kneed him in the balls. The man keeled over in pain, groaning as he cupped his crotch.

"You little prick!" Martin growled, lunging at Isaac.

Isaac felt the wind get knocked out of him for a moment as someone's arm nailed him in the gut.

This was it. He had to move. If these guys overpowered him, he would be at their mercy, and there was no telling what these two angry men would do to him.

Taking a deep breath, Isaac lunged at Martin and scratched at his face and neck. Blood and tears sprang loose from Martin. He released Isaac immediately, jumping up from the couch in pain.

Isaac kicked Randolf and scrambled to get to his feet.

"You little…" Martin growled at Isaac just before his feet got tangled in a blanket next to the couch, and the man went sprawling backward.

Isaac watched in horror as the back of the man's head smashed into the cement edge of his fireplace. The cracking sound his head made hitting the edge would live on and haunt Isaac in his dreams for the rest of his life.

Martin's eyes rolled upward as a thick pool of blood began collecting on the floor next to his head.

"Martin!" Randolf shouted, scrambling off the couch and rushing toward his friend.

Isaac stood there for a moment, frozen in time. All the warmth had left his body, and all he felt was a cold numbness to his face and body.

Was he in shock? Was he dead?

What should he do? Rush and help the man? Call the police?

But you killed the guy. Do you know what they do to young boys in jail who kill people?

"Holy shit. Is he dead?" Isaac whispered. His feet were permanently stuck to the floor.

"Martin! Martin!" the man continued to shout, shaking his friend's shoulder as he called out. Then he turned his tear-stricken face at Isaac. "You killed him! You killed him!"

These three little words shot right through his heart.

He was a killer. A murderer. A man was dead because of him.

Run! You idiot! Run!

Staring down at the lifeless body before him, he realized that he couldn't call the police. He didn't want to go to jail. Then, another more depressing thought occurred to him. He couldn't go home either. His uncle had pimped him out to these two men. His uncle would never protect him. He would never make sure that he was safe and well provided for. Nowhere was safe for him. He could never trust his uncle again. He had to leave town. Leave this village. Or risk going to jail.

It was just him on his own now.

With that terrifying realization, he was finally able to move his feet. He ran to the door and stole one final glance at his attackers.

This was the point that would change his life forever.

Taking a breath, he threw open the door and disappeared into the cold and rainy night.