Safe in His Arms by Renae Kaye Page A

sick men probably jerk off to the sounds of my agonized screams every day. I just heard on the TV an hour ago that a whole bunch of men have been arrested over child pornography, and all I could think of was how many of them had seen my father’s videos?”
    Lon’s face was snow white. “Is that why you came tearing around here?”
    “Yep. Sorry. And sorry for putting a downer on your party. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Nobody wants to hear fucking sad stories like that.”
    “Sad is not the word I would use,” Lon replied.
    Casey shrugged and drank a little more of his Coke. Paul was still staring at him in disbelief. “You’re not shitting, are you? Fucking hell. I hope someone found a bullet for that guy. Fuck, I know he’s your father and all, but that shit’s just not on. You should be putting rabid animals like that down.”
    Casey hadn’t talked about his experiences much to people other than the authorities and his counselor. Most people who knew had found out through the grapevine and had been oozing with sympathy, telling Casey that what he went through must’ve been awful. Yes, thank you very much for that. I lived it. I don’t have to be reminded at how awful it was. It was funny to have someone react with anger at his father instead of sympathy for him.
    “Unfortunately the prick’s in jail,” Casey told Paul. “They keep all the pedophiles separate from Gen Pop—that’s the general population in the jail. Gen Pop may hurt the pedophiles, you know? And we can’t have all those puny pedophiles being hurt by someone bigger and badder than they are. So dearest Dad gets to spend his days with other like-minded guys and they probably sit there all day and reminisce about their crimes.”
    “That’s totally fucked,” Paul said.
    “Yeah, well, welcome to my world,” was all Casey could reply.
    Lon was frowning at him. “You had that done to you and you’re still gay? You don’t have a problem with gay sex or anal?”
    For the first time in his life, Casey was able to quote back to someone the things he’d been taught in therapy. Things that Margaret had repeated over and over, and even had him write down at one stage. In that moment he forgave Margaret for any of the other crap she gave him, simply because he was able to look Lon in the eye and say calmly, “I was raped, Lon. It wasn’t my choice or my decision. I was forcibly held down and had things done to me against my will. Having gay sex with a man of my choice has nothing to do with what that man did to me. They’re two separate things. I refuse to give that power of choice away. I choose who I’m with and I choose what I do. I’m gay and I know that in my soul. He didn’t change me. He didn’t make me someone different. He just used my body in a way he thought would hurt me the most so that I’d do what he wanted. Well, guess what? I’m not giving any more power to him. If I want to suck dick, then I do. If I want to spread my legs, then I do. It’s all about me and I do it without thinking about some fucking arsehole who I hope is moldering in some slimy jail.”
    A look appeared on Lon’s face that Casey thought might have been respect. Paul was nodding in agreement at Casey’s speech and raised his beer bottle. He saluted him, saying, “Amen to that.”
    Casey smiled at him, desperately trying to deflect the attention away from himself. “Amen? So, you’re a good Catholic boy are you, Paul? You who has nasty gay sex with a married man? Shame on you.”
    Paul burst out laughing. “Don’tcha know? All is forgiven. I can do whatever I like as long as I rock up to confession and tell the priest everything. I’m his favorite customer. He really enjoys every second of my confessions too—and they take a fucking long time to tell.”
    Time passed after that while Lon and Paul drank several more liters of barley and hops products.
    Casey smiled in amusement and laughed as their stories became even more outrageous.