Rentboy

ever
    after.
    Do it now.
    Before he could reason himself out of it, Fox snatched the knife from the block.
    The house was completely still, quiet, and dark as he crept upstairs. He had put the twins to bed
    directly after the hellish family dinner, and his mum had followed suit. Ear to Baillie’s bedroom
    door, Fox listened. Years of living with an abusive, volatile father had honed his hearing until it was
    keenly sensitive. No sound came from within. William Baillie was a lean, fit man who never snored,
    unlike Tara whose snores reverberated from her room along the landing.
    Do it now.
    Fox only ever dared enter his father’s bedroom when the twins were in there cleaning, and they
    worked extremely fast, dying to get out. The room held a terrible sense of threat for all of them.
    Anywhere William Baillie slept, sat, or ate was a place to be avoided. Tense with fear, he stood,
    glued to the spot, knife in hand.
    Silently, his hands trembling, Fox opened the door. The bedroom curtains were slightly open,
    casting some small light from the outdoor floodlights into the room. The moment it was dark, Baillie
    turned on the outdoor lights. Was it just his military training, that he must always be on the defensive,
    or was there something in particular the man was afraid of? It could be either. Fox had no doubt that
    his father had many enemies.
    In the middle of the king-size bed Baillie lay flat on his back, hands folded on his chest as if he
    were in his coffin at his own funeral. I’m having you cremated to make sure you never come back,
    you bastard.
    With the knife held behind his back Fox walked very slowly over the hardwood floor until he
    stood beside the bed, looking down at the man he hated.
    Do it now. One, two, three. Do it!
    William Baillie sat bolt upright. “What the fuck are you doing in my room, you little perv?”
    With pounding heart Fox took a step back from the bed. Just do it! But he’d never stand a chance
    now. Baillie would have the knife out of his hand before he could raise it high enough to strike. “I
    came to say I’m sorry for taking the twins away without permission.”
    Swinging his feet to the floor, Baillie sat looking at him. “Did you? Go on, then. Apologize for
    taking the idiots to someone’s house and shaming me like that.”
    “I’m very sorry, sir. I’ll never do it again. I shouldn’t have left without permission.”
    “Good. Now get to bed like a good little boy.”
    As he turned to leave, Fox brought the knife furtively around the front and walked toward the
    door.
    “Fox!”
    Without turning back he said, “Yes, sir?”
    “If you’re giving your mother any ideas about leaving me, I’ll kill you. I’ll strangle you while
    you’re looking into my eyes. I’ve done that, you know, killed men with my bare hands.”
    “I wouldn’t,” Fox replied.
    “And you’d better not be thinking of going anywhere either. Your mother can’t look after the
    twins. If you go, I’ll have to put them in a home, a loony bin. Now get out.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Trying not to hurry, he walked out quietly and closed the door behind him. Sick to his stomach,
    he ran to the bathroom, reaching the toilet just in time to bring up the meat that had so sickened him at
    dinner. The rest of his meal came after it. Panting, Fox stood for several minutes before finally
    brushing his teeth to get the last residual memory of the meat out of his mouth. In the bedroom he
    stripped and crawled into the wardrobe, still holding the knife.
    “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he said into the silent, stifling air. With the tip of the knife, Fox ran an
    experimental line down his chest between his nipples. He pressed just hard enough for the blade to
    cut the flesh. A rush of adrenaline swept through him, sending his senses into high gear. Then he did it
    again, pressing harder this time. Hot blood bubbled from the wound and ran down his naked body.
    Again he cut, and then again until the blood ran freely and his mind went soaring. The pain both
    physical and mental left him, and he felt at peace.
    Chapter Nine
    The lift was far too confined a space to be with a homosexual even if it was only three floors
    down. Bad enough working with Dr. Edward Atherton every day. The man was a dolt who never
    understood a joke and who worked long hours even when he didn’t have to. Dr. Crispin Howard
    found him intensely irritating, especially since Atherton was more gifted and creative a scientist than
    he would ever