Rentboy

his mum
    drank and your husband wouldn’t give you any significant amount of money, you drank the cheapest
    plonk you could find.
    The curtains were open, and as the early evening light fell on his mum’s face, he saw the fresh
    bruises, still red in some places, already turning purple across her jawline. Guilt made his stomach
    sick. Baillie had done this because Fox had disappeared with the twins overnight. Whenever he was
    not in complete control of his surroundings and his possessions, his father reacted with violence. And
    his family was his possession. He owned them. Fox sat down on the bed and shook her gently. Slowly
    she regained consciousness. When she saw him sitting there, she screamed and began to fight,
    slapping at him with both hands, pure terror on her face.
    “Stop it, Mum. It’s me, Fox.”
    The blind fear began to leave her face, replaced with recognition. “Sorry, Afton. Sorry, luv. I
    thought it was him. Where have you been?”
    “I took the twins with me to a friend’s house for a visit. I couldn’t leave them here by
    themselves. They don’t eat if I’m not here. They’re afraid to go into the kitchen in case he sees them.”
    “They’re a terrible disappointment to him,” she mumbled, struggling to sit up.
    “Yeah, so am I.”
    Fox piled the pillows up behind her, and she fell back on them, reaching out a hand to touch his
    cheek. “I’m sorry, Afton. You’re such a good lad.”
    In frustration he burst out, “Why can’t you get sober, for Christ’s sake? Look at the state of your
    face. Look what he’s done to you. To both of us. And he beats the twins. Did you know he belts them?
    What the hell could they do to deserve that?” More quietly he said, “Why didn’t you leave him years
    ago?”
    Releasing a long sigh, she looked into his eyes. They all had the same blue eyes— Fox, the
    twins, his mum. “I tried to once, when you were all little. Do you remember? You were about seven,
    and the twins were a year old. We were in Germany at the time, living on the army base near
    Oldenburg.”
    “Was that after he smacked the hell out of the twins for crying?”
    Looking away, she nodded. In her sober moments he knew she was ashamed that she had
    allowed her husband to beat her babies. “We got as far as the airport to get home, and he found us. He
    said he’d kill me and make it look like an accident, and then he’d get custody of the three of you.”
    “Now he’s got custody of the four of us,” Fox said, bitterness making him want to hurt her. “You
    can’t leave because you’re drunk all the time. I can’t leave because the twins would die without me,
    either from starvation or he’d kill them accidentally by beating them. The twins are disabled, Mum.
    Why were they never diagnosed with anything? They could get help. I can only do so much. You don’t
    do anything to help them.”
    “I know.” She whimpered. “I was afraid to take them to the doctor even when he was away
    because I thought he had damaged their brains with that first beating. I thought he’d be arrested, and
    then he’d really kill us all because I told on him.”
    “That beating might have damaged their brains, but they might have been autistic anyway.
    Someone mentioned it at my mate’s house yesterday. We have to get them to a doctor and see what we
    can do for them.”
    “No!” She clutched Fox’s arm. “Afton, no. We can’t. He’ll kill me, both of us, if we shame him
    by taking the twins to a doctor. He hates anyone knowing there’s something wrong with them.”
    “It can’t go on, Mum. The only way we’ll ever be free is if he dies. I’m going to kill him.”
    The hope in her eyes spoke of her desperation. She wanted him to do it. “Can you?”
    “I have to find out about the life insurance first, how much it is and what the stipulations are.
    We’ll be entitled to his army pension no matter what, and he’ll get more than an ordinary captain
    because of his time in Special Forces, but I doubt it will be enough over the long haul. I’ll need to
    make it look like an accident for the life insurance.”
    Neither of them had heard William Baillie open the door until he spoke. “What are you talking
    about? Me? Tara, what’s he saying to you?”
    Fox’s heart began to thud. What had Baillie heard? “Just asking Mum how she is.” The fact that
    they both had bruised faces and were pretending they did not was nothing new.
    “She’s drunk, like always,”