Crown Of Thorns
Chapter 1


	You know, things just aren't right with the world.  Thoughts raced through my mind as I felt the pain in my ribs.  I closed my left eye because it hurt too much to open it.  This did not stop the beating.  I received blow after blow.  In never changed.  A small transgression and I would be pounded into a pulp in the name of discipline.

"I'll teach you, you son of a bitch."  My dad constantly yelled at me.  For anything and nothing.  He really didn't get drunk.  I hear that's what brings on beatings.  Well not with me.  I could feel myself rising into the air, by now I had closed both my eyes.  We were moving, and then I could feel myself flying through the air.  The impact wasn't so bad the floor broke my fall.  The door slammed shut and I could hear him stalk off.  I lay there, in a heap of pain.  One eye swollen shut the other bruised but still functional.  My ribs hurt along with everything else.  I felt content to lie there on the floor.  

Did this happen to every child.  I don't think so, just me.  I guess now, your just dieing to know me.  My name is Julian Cross.  Unlike my brothers I am small for my age of 15.  They are all huge guys, like 6'4" and in the 200's, weight wise.  All of them football players.  I on the other was the ugly duckling.  I guess I was more like my mother.  I am 5'4" and 125 lbs.  I act and play the ocarina.  That is probably an instrument that you have never heard of.  Well it is an ancient medieval flute instrument.  Made of clay.  It is really cool.  Well, because there is no way in hell that my dad would ever pay for lessons of buy one for me, I bought one myself and learned to play it myself.  I went to the renaissance fair with my mother a few years back and found it.  I collect them now.  And if I do say so myself, I am pretty good at it.  I approached the band headmaster and he has opened a spot for it.  I had to keep it hidden for years.  My dad would never approve and my brothers would crush it just to get me angry.  I busy myself with many extracurricular activates to spend as much time at school as possible.  It works.  I don't get beat and I stay away from my dad.  He doesn't give two shits if I live or die, so it makes no difference to him where I am as long as I am home before my curfew.  I don't get that, doesn't want me around, yet gives me a curfew.

I know, you are all dying to get to the story, but I just want to get all this shit off my chest.  Besides, it explains my situation.  I have made a few friends, but I keep them at bay, if they get too close, they might find out where I get the bruises and might even want to come over.  It has never come to that.  I don't have a lot of friends as a consequence.  It probably would help to know that my mother died in a car accident two years ago in '98.  I lived without a scratch on me.  Dad and my brother blame me.  Lets just compound this with the fact that I am gay.  Ha, isn't that a trip.  If I ever let that slip, it would be another reason to beat me; in fact, I think that they would blow my head off.  Basically, I am a closed book.  I don't open for anyone and I never have.  

So, I lie there, in serious pain, probably with internal bleeding and that entire medical shit.  Do I expect anyone to care?  Not really.  After an hour or so, in my heap I struggle to get up.  I trudge to my closet and pull out the ace bandage I swiped from the nurse's station at school and wrapped it around my torso.  I usually have to do this; it has become a custom of mine.  With more supplies that I swiped I cleaned the bleeding wound on my lip and put an instant ice on my swollen eye.  I slowly pulled off the rest on my clothes and lie in bed awake and in pain.  

So yea, things weren't fair.  I would now face a Saturday of rest and a Sunday of backbreaking work.  My dad gave me a break on Saturdays because he doesn't want to be caught with child abuse.  But on Sundays it was all work.  My brothers would practice and I would clean.

I envied my friends.  They would have perfect lives and I would have to fake mine.  During Christmas they would talk about all the cool presents they got.  A DVD player, a computer, a bike.  I would pretend that I got those things but in reality I would have the privilege of a meal instead of scraps, and maybe a pair of socks.  Painful tears began to roll down my face.

Why not call the cops or run away.  Well, my dad is the only family I have and to where.  My choices are a foster home or stay with my family.  My brothers would kill me, and as soon as my dad got free he would too, if my brothers didn't finish me off first.  I am alone in this struggle.  I slowly fell asleep.

Each night I had the same dream.  A strong guy my age would carry me from my sorrow and pain into love.  He would hold me, like it was meant to be.  The only contact between us would be gentle touches and gentle words.  There wasn't even sex involved in this dream.  Just love and caring.  We would sleep and he would protect me as we drifted off.  

I woke up with a start.  I actually smiled, there; in my sleep I was truly happy.  The world awakened was a different story.  I looked at my clock, 12:00 noon.  I pulled myself from my bed and walked up to my mirror.  I flinched at the reflection before me.  A bandage around my torso, a fat lip, bruises across the board.  The swelling in my eye went down considerably.  I could open it and that is a good sign.  I sunk into the chair sitting in the corner and looked out the window.

I reflected on my dream.  I recall what the guy looked like.  He was my age with golden hair and emerald eyes.  He was a god.  Built, defined, but had a gentleness to him.  My age with a deep tan, and a smile that could cure wounds.  My dream guy.  I could see kids playing in the park.  How much I wished that I could go out there and enjoy these last days of fall.  But questions would be asked.  I broke another ice pack and reapplied it to my face.  I slumped in the chair and let time slip by.  I had nothing to do really.  Eventually I picked up my book I was reading.  I had to hide that too.  Fantasy novels always took me away.  I could really be there and do the things that the characters did.  Fight dragons and go on adventures.  I wish so much.  

The day slipped by and I soon the sun sank below the horizon.  I went to bed early, I knew what was coming the next day.  I was going to get plenty of sleep.  Like on schedule, I was woken at 6:00 in the morning and told to clean the house and take care of the yard.  My father went back to sleep.  I started my weekly cleaning.  Early on, I cleaned the den; they would be using that to watch football.  This day too seemed to go fast and I went to bed exhausted, but not before finishing my homework.  Ahh, what a life of mine.

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I woke up early enough to see the sun make its first appearance in the horizon.  Without sound I got up and showered and prepared for school.  Grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl, I ran out the door before any of the others would be up.  I walked down the rapidly brightening street.  The bruises were almost healed and the swollen eye has become nothing more than a mild black eye.  I still had a pain in my ribs, but having experienced this before shrugged it off.  

As I came upon the school I headed for my little corner.  Between the building and the staircase there was a small patch of cement that I sit and read on.  It is a nice peaceful time.  Again, time seemed to slip right by and I could eventually hear teens laughing, cars parking, and the infamous gossip.  

"Hey Jules. How's it going?"  I smiled as I heard my best friend Danny give me his patented welcome.

"Good, I guess."

"Aww, what happened to your eye?"

"I fell, nothing more."

"What about the play."

"It should be gone by then and if not, you would be amazed at what make-up can do."  My friend Danny was the greatest person in the world.  I never let him too close, and I always kept my life closed to him, which hurt, but was for the best.  I was content to keep my mask on and pretend to be a normal person.  

"That's cool.  What'd you do this weekend."

"The usual, clean, hang out."

"With who?"

"Huh?"

"Who'd you hang out with."

He never asked me that question before.  "Umm, just a couple friends," I stuttered.

"Do I know them."

"Why do I have to tell you, just leave me alone."  I got up and stalked off.  I don't know why people wanted to be my friend.  If I have to lie to them all the time, just to cover my back.

"Fine," he yelled back at me.  Danny and I stayed at bay all day, giving each other a wide berth.   Lunch came and went.  As did the rest of the classes.  In 8th period, math class, I caught Danny staring at me.  I looked right at him.  I could only see concern in his face.  I couldn't help it.  I mouthed the words, 'I'm sorry' to him.  He only smiled in response.  He met up with me after class.

"What happened this morning?"

"It has been a long weekend."

He pulled me off into a corner.  "Now, I know that you didn't go out this weekend.  So, why would you lie to me?"

I couldn't hold it together.  Danny was my best friend and I lied to him.  Over and over.  "Danny, I am so sorry, please be a friend and understand this.  If I told you, you would be obligated to do something about it.  It would destroy everything that I know...my life."

"Ohh."  I guess that was all he could say on the subject.  The mood was too down for, 'so how'd you like the football game,' as if that would have helped.  We just walked in silence to the theater.  Play practice was great.  It got my mind off my problems.  We were performing "Little Shop of Horrors."  I played Seymour Krelborn.  The lead role.  Danny played Mr. Mushnik.  We performed great together on most days.  Today was not one of those days.  

"What is with you two today.  Where is the," and with a physical motion, "Pazzaz."

"Sorry Mr. Jenks.  It has been a rough day," I said.

"What if you have a rough day on show night."

"I'll get over it.  But tonight is not show night."  He looked defeated.

"Alright, take five, then we will do the prologue.  At least then we can get some work done.  Jess, Naine, Angela, here, now."  Mr. Jenks was one of those theater people with a commando aspect, but he was cool.

"Nice going, dillweed," Danny confronted me.

"Yea, well you weren't that hot either."

"Still you could have put a little 'pazzaz' in it."  I tried to stay angry with him, but when he said pazzaz, I fell apart.  I just cracked up.  It was a good laugh, one we shared together.  "I'm sorry I put you on the spot."

"Its ok, I have been acting weird, but thanks for understanding, even though I can't tell you."

"I know."

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I walked home in silence.  I knew what awaited me at home.  You would think that I would be used to it by now.  Well, I'm not and as soon as my house approached, I felt the butterflies in my stomach.  I was at the brink of crying, but I held firm.  It would only show a sign of weakness.  And that, would get it worse.  

"Where were you,"  I heard my dad say.

"At play practice, just like everyday."

"Don't you take that tone with me."

Pain to me is no longer a feeling, it is just a word.  And so was the thought as I got pummeled in the arms, legs, and chest.  He stayed away from any part visible.  That word flooded my system, but it didn't feel like much more than an ant.  And this is going to sound really stupid, but I started to laugh.  I really started to belt it out too.  This however was followed with more punches.  "What the fuck is so funny?  You think you can stand anything?  How about a knife?  Can you stand that?"  He drew his pocket knife and approached my skin with a downward thrust.  He stopped millimeters from it.  "No, I don't think so."  He got up off the floor and gave me one more hard kick in the ribs then left me there.  To die.

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