Rentboy

Baillie said. “Now get downstairs and make some dinner. There a
    big chicken in the fridge. Make roast potatoes and veg as well. We’re going to sit down together like
    a proper family.”
    “Yes, sir.” Relieved to get away, Fox got up quickly, but his father blocked the doorway.
    “And don’t you ever leave this house again without me knowing exactly where you are. And I
    don’t want them twins leaving the property ever again, not even to go to the park.”
    “Yes, sir.” Looking at the floor, Fox waited for his father to move. After a tense few moments,
    William Baillie stepped farther into the room, allowing Fox to slip past him. The door slammed so
    suddenly and so hard that it just caught his backside.
    Relief flooding him, he took a long breath until he heard his father’s voice through the door. “Get
    your clothes off, you stupid bitch.” He had beaten her, and now he was going to have sex with her.
    Fists clenched, Fox walked downstairs, squeezing his eyes tight shut to prevent his tears from
    falling.

    * * * *
    It was horrible, but fortunately rare, when William Baillie made his entire family sit down

    together for a meal. The dining room, which was hardly ever used, was far too large. It was like
    eating in an empty restaurant. The twins were silent, terrified of making a noise or spilling their food.
    Fox watched them like a hawk in case they scratched the mahogany table with their forks. Baillie
    made them use utensils when he was present, but their fine motors skills were poor, and they hurt
    themselves more often than not. They would have enjoyed the food if they were not so frightened.
    Their eyes, already big in their delicate faces, were huge as they sat looking at their plates.
    As surreptitiously as he could, Fox had served their food with an inch between each item. If
    Baillie noticed, he would not allow it. Across from Fox his mum ate awkwardly with her bruised
    face and split lip.
    “Very nice meal, boy,” Baillie said.
    “Thank you, sir.”
    “Lovely, Afton.” Fox met his mum’s gaze. That she was eating at all was unusual. She had been
    pretty once. All three of them had got their blond hair from her. But now her belly was swollen by her
    enlarged liver, making her arms and legs look like sticks.
    “Eat up.” Baillie looked at Fox.
    From past experience Fox did not even try to argue that he was vegan. The small portion of meat
    he had put on his plate would have to be eaten. And he did so in tiny bites, washing each one down
    with mouthfuls of water.
    “That’s it, lad. You eat your meat. You might even get some muscles.” Baillie laughed.
    It was like dining with the queen. No one was allowed to speak unless spoken to or to bring up a
    new subject. Arden picked up a roast potato with her fingers.
    “Hey, moron, eat with your fucking fork!”
    Shaking in fear, she dropped the potato on the floor.
    Fox dived after it, retrieving it. He sat down again and put the potato on the table before forking
    another from the serving plate to give to his sister.
    In an instant William Baillie was around the table, grabbing the fallen potato and slamming it
    into Arden’s face. “Eat it!”
    Arden screamed and began flapping her hands.
    Fox looked at his mum, who lowered her eyes. She wasn’t going to help her daughter. “Sir, she
    can’t help it.” Fox got a backhander for his trouble before Baillie sat down again.
    “Now, let’s eat like a civilized family. I’m going to be traveling to Uganda in a couple of weeks
    for work, and I’ll probably be gone for a month. I want a peaceful family life in the meantime. Do you
    hear me?”
    “Yes, sir,” Fox said at once.
    “Yes, Bill,” Tara said.
    “I don’t know what I did to deserve this. Other men have normal families.” Baillie looked at the
    twins before shaking his head in disgust. “I should have drowned them at birth.”

    * * * *
    For the last hour Fox had sat in the kitchen looking at the knives in the wooden block while

    working up the courage to take out the carving knife and walk upstairs with it.
    I’ll unlock the back door when I’m done and leave it slightly ajar. First I’ll go upstairs, stab
    him until he’s not moving anymore, and drop the knife in the bedroom. Then I’ll rob the safe in his
    office. I’ll bury the money in the back garden in a flower bed to retrieve later. It will look like a
    robbery that ended up in murder. We’ll get the insurance money, and we’ll all live happily