Blind Intentions

Chapter 1

Warning please read. 

This is my one and only trigger warning. For those who are sensitive, i don't recommend this story. If you read the tags, you know that there are dark, torturous and abusive topics in this story. I know we all come with a story and because of our history we all have a level of tolorence and sensitivity that can not and should not be crossed. There is no shame, no judgment on my part. This is me, being responsible and warning away those unable to safely read or enjoy this story. And if you can't enjoy it, then what point is it for you to read this work of fiction? 

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"Have mercy on me, God, in your goodness" A wavy voice spoke just above the singing of chains.

"In your abundant compassion, blot out my offense. Wash away all my guilt; from my sin, cleanse me." The captive cried, his voice barely hiding the pain from the metal chackled sinking its teeth into his flesh.

"Continue" A voice that was far too familiar ordered. And though he knew the man that spoke that word. The person that hurt him, the one that took his consciousness with a fist to the face and suspended him in a dark humid room barely illuminated by the glow of red and yellow candles.

This man, was a stranger. One he had the misfortune to encounter.

Mathew was the first son of Simon Glaze and the Naomi Glaze, formerly James. The first child of union between two divorcees. But he wasn't the oldest son, he had two half-brothers, one from his mother and another from his father. Both had left home 10 years ago.

Currently, He lived with his father, a widower after the death of his second wife, and his two younger siblings. They were your average God-fearing family of four. Or so it appeared to other.

"Mathew!" The angry voice screamed and the young boy flinched under the rage filled his tone. His jerky movements weakened his right knee and it buckled, drawing a cry of pain from cracked lips as the shackled around his wrist pelled at the skin of his hands.

Instantly the sting of copper filled the air, mixing with the smell of mold. The sticky liquid leaked down his arms and at once the tiny legs of insects landed as they feasted on his blood.

"For I know my offense; my sin is always before me." Mathew sobbed out. "Against you alone have I sinned; I have done such evil in your sigh. That you are just in your sentence, blameless when you condemn. True,-" He voice broke, his ribs aching with his every breath. "True, I was born guilty, a sinner, even as my mother conceived me- Father please." he self interrupted, begging with all he had.

"Talk to the lord, not me" His sire ordered. His tone cold and indifferent. This was not the man that held Matthew just this morning and wished him a good day under God's divine protection.

"I'm sorry" Mathew pleaded. Simon stood behind him, his saddened eyes going unseen by his weeping son. The tears behind his lids and the trembling of his hand was also lost in the darkness. He took a deep breath.

"Then beg for forgiveness. Repent, do it for your mother." He forced the words through his lips. Matthew's head hung, not solely under the weight of his father's words but also the boulder of shame.

Naomi died in her bed from a sickness doctors could not heal with their science. And left her children in the hands of a fantic, a man that shoved the bible down their throat and punished their every sin. His behavior was not new, but without the gentleness she provided it progressively became unbearable. Once there was a carrot now only the rod remained.

Copying scriptures was the lowest sentencing, the candle followed after. Then there was the whipping with a wet cloth and the cleansing in the upstairs bathtub. The worst was the cabin hidden amongst God's creation. Simon could be the devil he tried so desperately to cleanse from their children.

But he was also the father that laughed with them, that read stories at night and bought them ice cream. He was strict but could also be loving with a kindness that appeared from time to time. And it stayed awhile. As long as they were good. Mathew was good.

Now he was in the cabin.

"Still you insist on sincerity of heart; in my inmost being teach me wisdom Cleanse me with hyssop, that i may be pure; wash me, make me whiter than snow. Let me hear sounds of joy and gladness; let the bones you have broken-"

"Crushed!" Simon corrected.

"Crushed," Mathew quickly agreed. His wide fear-filled eyes begging for salvation from the man that promised him pain and suffering. Mistaking the words of the bible also a sin. "I meant to say crushed, please forgive me. father please I'm sorry"

"Continue," Simon insisted. Matthew struggled to swallow.

"Let the bones you have crushed rejoice. Turn away your face from my sins; blot out all my guilt. A clean heart creates for me, God; renew in me a steadfast spirit. I will teach the wicked your ways, that sinners may return to you. Rescue me from death. God, my saving God, that my tongue may praise your healing power. Lord, open my lips; my mouth will proclaim your praise. For you do not desire sacrifice; a burnt offering you would not accept." Mathew paused, and though he knows it would not work. That his tears fell for nothing and his breath wasted on pleads. He still held a hint of hope. If not to be forgiven then to be understood, for a chance to explain.

It hadn't been his fault, it was a mistake, one moment of not weakness, but ignorance. In this world, there was nothing was strong as love. And on that scale of love, God's love rein, it was indestructible and right under it was the love a parent had for their child. Matthew believed in that love. He needed to believe in it because if it didn't exist, what else was there.

"Please father" He begged. Unknown to him that this was done not out of Simon's rage, but his love and desperation to save the son he loved so much. The son he'd always thought as perfect a pure and right with god. He long to love all his children equally but his flawed humanity favored his boy.

"Talk to the lords Mathew." He spoke, his voice breaking for the first time as he reached out his hands and held his son's shoulder. "lRepent and he'll have mercy on you." He pressed. His head falling forward so that his forehead gently rested against the tender flesh of Matthews whipped back.

"My sacrifice." Helpless, lost and afraid, His voice trembled with every words. His eyes closed and his hand balled into fist. " Is a broken spirit, do not spurn a broken, humbled heart. Amen" The prayer end silence fell.

In the glow of red candles, bath in the scent of bold and mold. Whipped and soaked in was Simon claimed to be holy water. Matthew had never felt so alone. Even with his father's hand arrested on his shoulders and his head pressed against his back.

"What is your sin, my son?" Simon asked.

Mathew said nothing. The words would not leave his lips.

"Admit your sin so you may repent" Simon insisted. His tone pleading as the hold on Matthew's shoulders tightened. But the pain felt hazy under the rise of Matthew's panic.

He'd never planned on speaking on it. Never dreamed or fantasized on acting on it. He hadn't asked of this, he didn't enjoy it. On the contrary, he loathed it! This cross he was made to carry was heavy. But it was his cross, one he'd been prepared to take with him to his grave. He'd be buried 6 feet under and it, 12 feet under him.

"Repent!" Simon shouted. His fingers digging into his son's flesh, adding to his wound. It woke Mathew up from the daze he had fallen into. The cross he tried so hard the hide, was now shoved into the light.

"I'm gay" 

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