Finn
I knew I had hurt Athena with my hard words last night. She was trying her best to act her normal gracious self today, but there were too many signs that she was out of balance for me to ignore. First, she cut herself when she prepared breakfast this morning. Then she opened the window and called for Bast, forgetting that she had just let the cat in five minutes earlier.
Hans kept giving me the stink eye. He was being overly sweet and caring to Athena, and I wasn’t sure what he thought had been going on between her and me last night. Anyone could tell that she was unhappy, and I suspected he thought I had pushed myself on the innocent priestess.
To be honest, I was surprised that Athena had agreed to make out with me last night. My heart had been racing faster than the time I met a full-grown grizzly bear. The way she had wrapped her legs and arms around me had been the sexiest thing I could have imagined. Athena was the woman I had fantasized the most about in my life. Ever since our time together in the Northlands, I had thought about her often. Not just her incredible beauty and those perky tits that just beckoned a man to come play with them. But also her kind eyes, and that sweet smile of hers that I had only seen hints of in the Northlands because she was mostly serious and guarded around me back then.
Athena was misguided because of her upbringing in the Motherlands, for sure, but she was still a warm, generous, and amazing person that I didn’t want to see sad.
“Athena, you really shouldn’t frown so much, it distorts the tattoos on your forehead,” I said to loosen her up a little bit.
“Are you done with that?” she asked without looking at me.
“Yes, and the pot pie tasted really good.” I gave her my plate. “Are you sure it wasn’t real chicken?”
“I told you.” Her voice was soft tone but she still refusing to look at me. “It’s a vegetable-based substitute for chicken.”
“You could’ve fooled me.”
Turning her back on me, she spoke in a matter-of-fact voice. “Tristan and some of the other children are coming over in a bit.”
“That’s great! I was hoping to see Tristan again,” I said, with my brain trying to figure out how I could make it up to Athena. “By the way, I wanted to ask you something.”
Athena’s back stiffened.
“I was wondering if there is maybe something I can help you with before I leave tomorrow.”
“Like what?” She turned, and it hurt to see her eyes so sad.
“I don’t know, maybe I could do some work around the house, or remove a spider or something. I’m an excellent handyman.” I gave her my most charming smile, but it only made her turn away from me again.
“I just figured that with you living out here on your own, maybe I could be of service.”
“Thank you, but there’s no need.”
“Not even a little?” I asked.
“I’m not afraid of spiders, and women have survived in the Motherlands without handymen for centuries.”
“I was just trying to be nice,” I mumbled and looked at Hans. “Hey, Hansi, you wanna hear a joke?”
He directed a worried glance in Athena’s direction, before he nodded.
“How does a man show that he is planning for the future?”
Hans shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“He buys two cases of beer,” I said and laughed at my own joke.
Hans smiled. “I know a joke too; you want to hear it?”
“Sure.”
“All right. So, a girl and a boy sit together in a bathtub. The girl looks down and asks, ‘Can I touch it?’ The boy covers his penis and says, ‘No, you already broke yours off!’” The best part of Hans’ joke was his loud hyena grin that was spiced with a snort.
I sat with a wide smile on my face and watched in amusement when he rocked back and forth, clapping his hands on his thighs.
Athena wasn’t laughing, so Hans explained his joke to her. “You know because she’s a girl and she never had a penis.” He dried away a tear and gave another snort of laughter. “But the boy didn’t know that.”
She rewarded him with a smile that never reached her eyes before she looked at me.
“Do you know any jokes about men who can’t show their feelings?" she asked.
“Did you say can or can’t?” I asked.
“Never mind.” Athena pointed to Hans. “Should we do our meditation before the kids get here?
“Sure.” The two of them moved to the floor, without a second glance in my direction.
“Hey, aren’t you going to invite me to join you?” I asked.
“No, not today. You are off the hook.”
That bothered me because even though meditation wasn’t my favorite thing to do, I was beginning to not hate it, and I didn’t like the idea of Athena bonding with the sparkly turtle instead of me. “Oh, I see, because you are upset with me for not showing enough emotions?”
Athena placed the mat on the floor, all her movements mirrored by Hans, who looked uncomfortable with my confrontational manner.
“Well, here’s the thing, Athena, if you wonder where all the kind and considerate men are – you know, the ones that will share their feelings with you over a cup of herbal tea – then I have the answer for you,” I said with a sugar-sweet smile.
She sat down on her mat and gave me a steady glance. “Do tell.”
I delivered my answer with a dose of sarcasm. “Those men are all busy fucking their boyfriends.”
Taking in a deep sigh, Athena pointed to my jacket on the wall. “I know it’s snowing, but I would appreciate it if you took your curse words outside.”
Having anticipated her reaction, I tore my jacket from the wall and stalked to the door, throwing a last comment over my shoulder before I slammed it. “Have fun bonding, you two.”
Athena was right, it was really cold, but my blood was pumping and I started running without any specific direction. My head was exploding with confusing emotions, hopes, and regrets.
Athena was already disappointed with me, and yet she didn’t know half of what I was hiding.
Would the pacifistic priestess be forgiving and loving if she knew I was a murderer?
Picking up my speed, I sprinted until my lungs were hurting and every particle of my body was screaming in protest – just like it had that night, seventeen years ago.
Johnson’s threats about making me his bitch and cutting his initials into my skin had me screaming in panic. Not that anyone would help me, because for all the times he had tortured me in this room, none of the other mentors had ever dared interfere. We students weren’t the only ones scared of the violent psychopath.
I was fighting with everything I had, wriggling my body and squeezing my butthole to avoid his raping me.
“Listen you little shit,” he sneered. “I’ll tie you down or knock you out, but either way I’m fucking you tonight.”
He would do it, and being knocked out by Johnson was no joke. Last time I had ended up with a concussion.
“Stand still and take it, do you hear me?”
I heard him, but this was a matter of more than fear. I had taken his violent abuse for years, but this was different. My pride and self-respect was all I had left, and I would rather die than become his sex toy.
Pinning me down, and cussing at me, he opened the drawer in his desk and pulled out a choker and some rope. “It’s okay, you keep fighting, boy. It only makes it more satisfying when you finally submit to me. Ben used to fight me too, but in the end, I had him trained like a sweet little pup…” I never heard the last of his sentence, because at that moment the door flew open, and Johnson started shouting for whoever had entered to get the fuck out.
Still pinned down, I couldn’t see who was in the room, but when Johnson was jerked away from me, it was like a thousand pounds had lifted. I pushed up from the desk and spun around to see him scream at his attacker. The scene was bizarre with Magni, a boy almost three years my junior, punching Johnson in the face and ribs with pure rage emanating from him.
“I’ll kill you,” Johnson roared at Magni and tried to defend himself, but Magni was no normal twelve-year-old. Already more than six feet tall and a trained fighter, he fought with ruthless determination.
“It’s not what it looks like.” Johnson spit out one of his teeth, and dried away some of the blood with the back of his hand. “Finn likes it. It’s a game we play.” He was trying to pull up his pants with frantic movements.
Magni didn’t say a word; instead he channeled all his physical power into kicking Johnson with such force that the man went flying backward, hitting his head hard on the floor.
Johnson curled up and groaned in pain, and only then did Magni turn to look at me. With his hands curled into fists, his face hardened, and his chest pushed out in his fighter stance, he shouted, “Come on, what are you waiting for?”
The thought that Johnson must have knocked me out and I was dreaming the whole thing occurred to me, since the likelihood of Magni beating up our mentor was too unreal.
Johnson tried to push up from the floor but Magni showed no mercy and kicked him down again. “Don’t you want to get even with this sick fucker?” he encouraged with fire in his eyes.
I did! This time, my brain scrambled into gear, and while closing my pants, I walked over to stand in front of the man I hated most in the world.
Where Magni had kicked him in the stomach I went for his face. Hearing the cracking sound of his nose and his deafening howl of pain was satisfying.
Looking to the door I worried some of the other mentors would react to Johnson’s screams, but Magni read my mind and walked over to lock the door, nodding to me to go on.
With Johnson holding his hands up to protect his face, I directed my second kick at his crotch and took pleasure in his body curling up in excruciating pain.
“You two are dead,” Johnson growled and it made me kick him in his face again, and again, until I was so far gone in my blood rush that I stopped counting. I kicked him for Ben Hur, who he had molested and killed when the boy fought back. I kicked him for Jack, who he had driven to suicide. I kicked him for all the times he had tortured me and all the other children who he was supposed to protect and care for.
I kept kicking full force, unaware of the tears of anger running down my cheeks. In the beginning Johnson groaned and threw threats at us, but for every kick to his body and head, his responses turned from groans into whimpers, and weak whispers of mercy.
The hatred that I had for this man was fueled by the tsunami of memories running through my mind. The days spent in the infirmary in excruciating pain, all the pride that I had to swallow over the years, the countless humiliations, and emotional abuse I had suffered from him. I had no room for sympathy for his pain, and ignored his pleas.
Putting all my bottled-up hatred and fear into it, I kept kicking with screams of anger until Magni pulled me away.
“Stop it, it’s enough now,” he shouted through my haze of violence.
By then, Johnson was in a pool of blood pouring from his nose, mouth, and ears. His awkward position of self-protection did little to hide how messed up his face was, and I didn’t recognize the man on the floor as my tormentor. Unable to let go of my rage, I broke free from Magni’s hold and kicked Johnson again. He didn’t move or blink.
“He’s already dead. You killed him!” Magni shouted at me.
But I couldn’t stop kicking or crying, and Magni had to pull me away again, holding on to me and carrying my weight when I collapsed in his arms.
We fell to the floor together, my body trembling with the emotional shock I was in, and Magni holding on to me, stroking my hair with soothing sounds.
“He can’t hurt you anymore, it’s over, Johnson is dead,” he said.
Killing a mentor would no doubt cost me my life. I couldn’t hide what I had done and being fifteen, I was old enough to stand trial in an adult court of law. I would be sentenced to death for my crime and there was nothing I could do about it.
“They’re going to kill me,” I whispered, with snot and tears making my voice break.
“Probably, but they’ll have to kill me first,” Magni muttered and leaned his forehead against mine. “He had it coming. We did the world a favor, don’t ever forget that.”