Chapter 20

“I was a skinny little gay kid accusing the straight football player of raping me. I think one cop thought I’d just got beat up and was lying out of spite. The other, I think he knew it’d happened like I said, but he thought I deserved it. I could tell from the things they said.”

Brenton looks pale, and he reaches out, pulling Zeke into a hug.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Brenton says softly.

Zeke finds himself relaxing in Brenton’s hold, instead of holding himself ridged. He lets himself enjoy the hug, take the comfort being offered. But after a few moments, he pulls back.

“We’d both been kept back in PE for fighting. He’d pushed me, called me a fag. I shoved back, called him a dick. But ah, we ended up being the only ones in the changing room. He punched me. that’s where the blood on the tile comes from, in my poem. I ran, but he caught me and pulled me into an empty classroom. I just thought he was going to beat me up.” Zeke breaks off. He can’t say the rest.