by Simon Curtis
One night he pretended to be asleep as Aaron slipped into one of the skirts from the box underneath the floorboard. He saw, through barely opened eyes, as Aaron grabbed a small gold clutch and climbed out the window. Once it closed, he shot out of bed and watched. Aaron slipped down the white, ivy-covered trellis at the front of the house and strutted over the lawn in heels. A black sports car was waiting under the orange glow of the streetlight, and Aaron got in.
Whoever it was sped off into the night with Aaron.
His stomach tied in knots, he crawled back into bed and went to sleep.
• • •
He woke to the sound of his phone vibrating on the dresser. He got up and slid his finger across a glowing picture of Aaron’s face.
“Hey,” he said blearily. “What’s up?”
Silence.
“Aaron, are you there?”
“I need you to come pick me up.” Aaron’s voice was hushed and raspy.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just need you to come get me.”
“Send me the location.”
Aaron hung up.
Seconds later the screen lit up with a message.
• • •
He parked on one of the smaller side streets, away from the lights and music blaring from the next street over. He was in the part of town that was always filled with tourists getting drunk while listening to blues bands and gorging themselves on barbecue.
Aaron noticed his car from across the road, flicked a half-smoked cigarette onto the pavement, and approached. Aaron wasn’t wearing any shoes.
He leaned over and opened the door. Once inside, Aaron stared straight ahead, revealing a large purple bruise blossoming in the glow of the streetlight outside.
“What happened, Aaron?”
Silence.
“Aaron, you have to talk to me.”
Still nothing.
“Aaron, I’m your brother, and I love you. Please talk to me.”
Aaron held up a hand and laughed. “You don’t love me. You don’t know me. No one does.”
“That isn’t true. I love you more than anything.”
Aaron snorted again and looked off to the sidewalk with watery eyes. “Not if you knew what I really was.”
“Try me.”
Aaron’s legs began to shake.
Minutes of silence went by, but he stared at Aaron’s face, waiting for an answer. Finally, Aaron’s eyes closed and the sound of a deep breath filled the car.
“I’m a woman.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I’ve always been this way. Inside. I’ve always known it.” She bit her bottom lip and her eyes glistened.
“I tried to change. I used to be so afraid, I would cry myself to sleep. For years I’d pray and hope that I’d wake up and I’d be fixed. That I’d be normal.” Her hands began to tremble. “But it didn’t work, and I know what I am now. I’ve come to terms with it and accepted it. I just don’t have any fucking idea how anyone else is going to.” A single, silent tear slid down her cheek.
He reached over and took her trembling hand in his. “I’ve always known.”
She looked at him with terrified eyes, relief flooding into them.
“And I don’t care what the rest of the world thinks, or what anyone else’s dumb fucking opinion is. You are my sister, you always have been, and I will always love you.”
She squeezed his hand so hard that blood stopped pumping into it as tears fell down her face.
He pulled her into a hug and held her as they both cried tears of joy—joy for the return of a sibling they hadn’t even realized they’d lost.
• • •
With her brother’s help, Aaron found the courage to begin wearing the clothes she felt the most comfortable in by their senior year. Thomas was a senior as well, and now both Elijah and Michael—a junior and sophomore—were all at the same campus with them.
Word of Aaron’s new style choices spread very quickly throughout the school. Most of the other students and faculty ignored it, and some of the girls even thought it was cool, but some of the boys, and a few of the teachers, made it very clear that Aaron was not wanted. The ones who harassed her the most were her stepbrothers. At times it felt like they were the only ones left at the school who even cared.
She was tripped, pushed, and catcalled. Threatening notes were left in her locker, and once a bag of used tampons was dumped all over the floor in front of it.
Thomas was behind it all. For whatever reason, he hated her.
He could see it in Thomas’s eyes when Thomas saw her approach in the hallway. He was even pretty sure that if it weren’t for Thomas, the other two wouldn’t have cared. But there they were, every day. At home, at school, outside of school, and back at home again. Always plotting something. Always looking for a way to put her down.
The day she finally had the courage to wear the wig was the very worst. They were walking back from lunch when Thomas, flanked by his brothers, stopped them in the middle of the hall.
“Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?” He glared and blocked her path.
“Move, Thomas,” Aaron said apathetically. She was used to this by now.
“No.” Thomas’s voice rose. “I’m not going to move. You’re going to take off that wig and stop being a fucking embarrassment.”
“The only thing embarrassing here is your behavior, Thomas,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Other students had gathered around. A few of the girls let out audible reactions at Aaron’s insult.
“You think you’re so clever, wearing fucking dresses and wigs and shit. Do you know what everyone says about you? You’re a disgusting joke and you make everyone fucking sick.”
Aaron walked right up to him. “Honey, I think someone’s just afraid that he might secretly want to wear a dress too.”
Thomas threw the first punch.
• • •
After they left Mr. Anderson’s office, he drove around town with Aaron in his car, listening to music, talking, and avoiding home. Pastor Martin had come to school to pick up his boys after they’d all talked to the principal, and neither of them felt like facing him right now. In fact, they were dreading it.
When the sun set and they had nowhere else to drive, it was time to head back.
He pulled up to the house and parked on the street. A large white van was parked in the driveway, blocking his usual spot.
When they stepped inside, the lights were dim. They thought they’d be able to make it upstairs and avoid confrontation altogether.
They were wrong.
The entryway lights flicked on when Aaron closed the door.
“In here, boys.”
Pastor Martin’s voice rumbled like a thunderhead on the horizon.
They slowly stepped into the living room.
Pastor Martin sat on the couch with his three boys. Thomas’s face was bruised and swollen—much worse than Aaron’s. Of all the times they’d seen Pastor Martin upset, he’d never been as frightening as he was in that moment. “Have a seat, Aaron.” The pastor gestured to the armchair across from him. “We need to talk.”
Aaron hesitantly sat on the edge of the recliner.
“I have warned you ever since you were a little boy that I would not condone”—he looked Aaron up and down—“this.”
He stepped up beside his sister as Pastor Martin spoke and placed a hand on her shoulder. It was trembling.
“You have chosen a life of damnation and have tried to drag my boys down with you.”
Thomas sat next to his father and scowled at both of them.
“I will not let that happen, and I will use whatever means necessary to ensure that it never does.”
Pastor Martin stood up from the couch, and Thomas’s face broke out into a wide Cheshire grin.
Two large men in white polo shirts and khakis emerged from the dark kitchen and swiftly made their way toward Aaron.
&nbs
p; He tried to block them as Aaron shot up off the armchair.
“Get away from her!” he shouted as he ran toward the men, trying to protect his sister.
Pastor Martin made a look of disgust and nodded to his boys. The three charged him and took hold of his arms, binding them behind his back.
“‘Her’?” Pastor Martin sneered as the hulking men apprehended Aaron. “Listen to me right now, boy. This shit ends here. Tonight.” He got right in his face, his breath hot and putrid. “You and your queer brother have made a laughingstock of me and my family, and I am putting an end to it.”
His eyes gleamed with hatred. “If you ever want to see him again, I suggest you toe the line very carefully with me from here on out.” He turned and nodded to the men.
They dragged a flailing Aaron to the door and out into the driveway.
Silent tears streamed down his face as Thomas sharply bent his elbow behind him. A searing spark of pain shot up through his arm up into his shoulder, and he gasped.
Thomas leaned in to his ear. “Fuck you and that faggot.”
He let his body go limp and stopped fighting.
Aaron’s screams were shut behind the sliding metal of the van’s side door. The engine started, and as it drove away, the night went silent once more.
Thomas threw him to the ground at Pastor Martin’s feet.
“This is for his own good,” Pastor Martin said. “The boy needs salvation. You’ll thank me one day.”
Pastor Martin started up the stairs and gestured for his boys to follow. “Come on, boys. Leave him alone.”
He lay with his face on the floor for what felt like hours.
His twin, his sister, his everything, was gone.
And he had no idea how to get her back.
• • •
The next month was a daze. Graduation was swiftly approaching, but nothing else mattered while she was still missing. A few of the girls at school asked about her, but besides that, her name was barely mentioned. At home Pastor Martin and his sons acted like she’d never existed. He kept his head down and played along. It was the only way he was going to find her.
• • •
The Saturday before their birthday, with humid, early-summer heat looming heavy under the afternoon sun, he pretended to nap up in his room as Pastor Martin and the boys left for Elijah’s basketball game. The front door closed and his eyes shot open. His ears strained to hear the sound of Pastor Martin’s car driving away.
He leaped off of the bed, heart racing, and ran downstairs. In front of the locked door at the end of the hall, he withdrew a bobby pin and a long, thin nail from his pocket. He’d been learning how to pick a lock for weeks now, waiting for a moment exactly like this.
You can do this. Do it for her.
The lock clicked and he opened the door to Pastor Martin’s office.
Inside he rifled through drawers and files and anything he could get into. He stopped when he got to his desk.
There it was. Exactly what he’d been looking for.
He picked up the glossy white pamphlet and traced his fingers over the embossed logo of two blue doves, flying side by side.
NEW BEGINNINGS: A FAITH-BASED REHABILITATION AND SPIRITUAL RESTORATION CAMP—SERVING WAYWARD TEENS. SERVING CHRIST.
He took a picture of the address with his phone, raced back up to his room, threw clothes and toiletries for both Aaron and himself into his gym bag, then ran back down to grab his car keys off the hook in the kitchen. He stopped before the open front door and debated grabbing some medicine before he left. There was a buzz in the back of his head, like the beginning of a headache.
One that had been building for days.
• • •
It was almost ten when he pulled up to the gate. The camp was on the other side of the state, right on the edge of the national forest. He’d been driving for six hours and his head felt like it was going to implode.
He shook it off and pulled farther down the road. He would need to be clearheaded and strong for this.
If the camp was laid out as the map detailed, he would have to trek about a half mile through the woods before coming to a lake. The dorms sat in a row along the opposite shore. Hopefully there would be an easy way to walk around; otherwise he was going to have to get wet.
His shoes were soaked and heavy with mud by the time he reached the shore. He could make out the row of small, dark trailers on the other side. A small trail stood out in the moonlight to his right, running alongside the lake’s edge. He stayed close to the trees and followed it.
Once he got closer, he realized they weren’t trailers at all. They were shipping containers. Each had a door cut into the side. They were dark because there weren’t any windows. Not a single one.
He bent over as a wave of pain pounded through his head. He had to find her, fast. Otherwise, whoever ran this place would find him crippled with agony in the grass come morning.
He caught his breath and stood once the wave of pain subsided. He took a deep breath and listened.
A voice was coming from one of the containers.
He crept through the wet grass toward the sound until he stood right next to the source.
It was Aaron’s voice. Screaming. Crying. Yet distant somehow.
His heart raced, and he ran to the front of the container, facing the lake. He stepped into the light of the fog lamps, but he didn’t care. He was getting her out.
The door was locked from the outside with a padlock. His stomach twisted as he worked on picking it.
The lock clicked and he dropped it to the ground.
When he pulled the door open he was smacked in the face with a blast of hot air and a stench unlike anything he’d ever smelled before. He stepped inside and his stomach dropped.
The tiny container had to be well over one hundred degrees inside. The floor was dirt, and the walls were bare metal. A bucket of filth sat in one corner, and in the other, illuminated by the blue glow of a wall-mounted screen, lay Aaron.
Her body was curled into a ball, naked except for a pair of soiled girls’ panties. She glistened with sweat and was covered head to toe in filth. He stepped inside, horrified, and went to her, crouching in the dirt beside her.
He held his breath as he shook her lifeless body.
Please. Please, God. Please
Her body began to stir, and tears of joy welled in his eyes.
“Come on,” he whispered. “I’m getting you out of here.”
She could barely moan in response.
The screaming he’d heard from the outside happened again, and he turned to the screen on the wall.
A video was playing. Aaron, dressed in a wig and women’s underwear, was tied to a chair. A man holding a belt whipped her repeatedly, shouting about repentance and sin, as she howled and begged them to stop. Other boys stood around the room and watched, naked and expressionless. The video went for about a minute and then started over again, on a loop.
His blood boiled inside as he lifted Aaron up off of the ground.
When her eyes opened and she saw him, she jolted to life in response. She held him so tight he thought she would never let go.
“We have to go. Right now.” He was starting to panic. They’d lingered too long already.
She nodded and struggled to her feet. He held her hand, and together they walked out into the night. Even the muggy summer air was a cool relief.
They both took a deep breath.
An air horn sounded three times as another light came on behind them in the distance.
“Are you able to swim?” The racing of his heart overpowered the pain in his head.
She gave a single nod.
He grabbed her hand and ran toward the water as the sound of men shouting began to fill the air.
They splashed into the black water and then dove in.
He had to let go of her hand to stay afloat, pushing the water with his legs and arms, choking for air between thrusts. He turned to look back every few sec
onds to make sure Aaron was still with him, but she never fell behind. As they approached the far shore, a group of men came into view in the fog lights, hunched over, gasping for breath after their run.
“Get back here!” one managed to yell across the black water.
He stood in the mud on the opposite shore and pulled her out of the lake. They ran together into the trees and never looked back.
• • •
They stopped at a small roadside motel. He’d planned on making it all the way back home tonight, but he was in too much pain to continue driving. She was too. They could both feel the exact same pain shooting through their skulls, threatening to explode like a bomb.
In the room, they both collapsed onto the grimy bed. He wrapped his arm around her and held her as she began to sob.
The pain grew worse, coming in wave after wave. He did his best to stifle his own moans of agony and comfort her. The room swirled and his vision faded in the pain. He was afraid they were both going to die, but he didn’t care. He had his sister back.
That was all that mattered.
• • •
The next morning he woke to a pounding on the door.
“Check out was at eleven!” the hoarse, smoky voice of the manager yelled. “If you want to stay another day, you need to pay. Otherwise, out!”
He picked up his phone and checked the time. It was noon.
He felt a tingling sensation as the screen flickered in his hand.
Aaron looked at him. “I can’t go back. Not yet,” she said.
He nodded and went to the door. “I’ll pay for another day,” he called. The manager grumbled and walked through the gravel back toward her lair.
He looked back at Aaron. She was staring at her hands. “I feel so strange.”
He looked at his phone where he’d left it on the bed. “Me too.”
• • •
“You need to come see this,” Aaron said.
He’d just returned from his third trip to the greasy burger stand a few miles down the road. Neither of them seemed to be able to satisfy their appetites.
“Promise me, though, you won’t freak out.” She was in the bathroom, talking through the door.
“What are you talking about?” He stepped closer, confused.
“I said promise me. Seriously.”
