Martin Hugged His Father Tight

He hadn't seen them coming. Martin was eight years old and it was his first

Saturday spent in the new trailer park. The day had been beautiful. Warm,

spring wind had danced through his hair and his favorite Ninja Turtle t-shirt as

he danced along the edge of the street hoping to see a frog to take home to his

mom. His mother had told him a pond must have been nearby because she had

already seen two frogs in their front yard since they had moved in. That

Saturday had been no luck for frogs but Martin was two houses down from

home and had decided that as of right then, lunch sounded way better than

scaring his mom.

He hadn't seen them coming. Martin felt a blow to his back and landed on his

face. Two teenage boys grabbed Martin's arms and forced him to his feet. He

winced under the strength of the two boys. His eyes filled with

tears, he was scared. The tallest of the boys was now in Martin's face asking

him his name. "Marty", had trembled out of Martin's small mouth. As he

answered he tasted salt from his tears, now streaming. The tall boy had his

hands behind his back and told Martin that his name was Angus and Angus

thought "Marty" was the perfect name for a little faggot. Angus explained to

Martin how the three boys had seen him dancing in street like the little fairy

faggot he was and they had brought him a gift. The two boys held Martin tighter

and again Martin winced in pain. Angus revealed from behind his back a stick,

covered in fresh dog poop. He held the stick six-inches from Martin's face.

Martin gagged from the smell. Angus told Martin that someday, Martin would

have to taste shit. Someday, Martin's faggot-fairy loving boyfriend would stick

his dick in Martin's ass and would want it sucked afterward. Angus shoved the

shit-covered stick against Martin's closed mouth. Martin had clenched his jaw

and lips tight, holding his mouth closed with all he had while trying not breathe

in the smell. Angus told him to open his mouth, he was only doing Martin a

favor. He needed to be prepared for how shit actually tastes.

Martin heard footsteps beating hard against the pavement. The moment

Angus had turned to the sound was the same moment he was knocked to the

street. Martin's father lifted Angus back to his feet by his ear and told the two

other boys to get the

fuck out of there. Martin had never seen so many veins in his father's forehead.

Martin's father, speaking through his clenched teeth told Angus to show him

where Angus lived. Angus pointed at his house across the street. Martin's father

asked Martin to join them. Martin wiped his mouth with the bottom of his favorite

shirt and followed his dad and Angus. Martin's father drug Angus by his ear

every step of the short way. After a few echoing thuds of a banged door,

Angus's father appeared onto his front porch. Dressed in a wife beater, it was

past noon but still there was sleep in his eyes. Martin's father's fist against the

door had woken him. Martin had been told later, the man had wreaked of booze.

Martin's father looked the man square in the eye and told him that he had seen

Angus shove a stick covered in shit onto his young son's mouth while his son

was being held still by two of Angus's degenerate friends. Martin's father, a half

foot taller than the man, peered down at him and told him that if he didn't do

something at that very moment about Angus, then he would take matters into

his own hands. Angus's father looked at Angus then back at Martin's father,

then at Martin. His eyes lingered on wide-eyed Martin. Without saying a word

the man disappeared into his trailer, returning with a thick, black belt. He

grabbed Angus by the throat pushing him forward into the yard until he threw

Angus down. In front of Martin and his father, he beat Angus. He whipped his

arms. He whipped his legs. He whipped his back. All while Angus cried out for

mercy. Angus's shirt came up as he tried to crawl away from his dad. Martin

could see the deep, red lashes covering the boy's back. Martin's father took

Martin by the shoulder and led him away from the scene, telling Martin they had

seen enough. A stern-looked exchange was had between the two fathers,

Martin's father nodded his head. In Martin's front yard, his father kneeled to

bring the father and son's eyes together. He asked Martin if he felt better. Martin

felt sick. He had never seen someone beat to tears before. He was so scared.

But all the same he hugged his father. Martin hugged his father tight.