Content Warning: Sexual abuse, child-on-child trauma reenactment, coercive sexual behavior, domestic violence, and death

The Red Barn

We moved from the house in Stanardsville to a house in Dyke that my parents rented.

The property was huge, tucked away at the end of a dirt road off route 810. It was just a little further from where we had been living, still in Greene County.

There was a red barn and a free standing studio adjacent to the house.

My antics in middle school got me thrown into the high school early. I was board with most academics at this point. Too easy, nothing was very challenging. High school was the first taste of picking my own classes though.

I enrolled in mostly senior level classes. AP history, AP calculus, Latin 1 and Japanese 1, Shop and Creative Writing. That was my first semester in high school.

I had already gotten a taste of high school the year previous, when the middle school let me take AP physics at the high school.

Latin and Japanese we provided as correspondence classes in conjunction with a school in Richmond. We’d get a VHS tape every week for each one, and we had a camera in the classroom where we’d record us working and ask questions. Those tapes got sent to the school in Richmond at the end of very week.

Even though I was only technically in 9th grade, because most of my classes were senior level I got to go out for lunch with the other kids. There was a Dairy Queen across the street from the schools, and I would trade dirty magazines from ever growing stash for money to buy blizzards and other treats.

I also spotted a small computer store opening up in the adjacent strip of small offices that housed the town insurance salesman and a dentist I think. That’s a story for another time though.

I became enamored with one of my classmates in Latin, Jessica. She was the only other ninth grader in Latin, a class usually reserved for sophomore and above.

She lived in a trailer park, and mom said she was bad news and that I should stay away from. Girls are only trouble, my mother would say.

Jessica would show me the bruises her dad left on her. she lived alone with him, her mom had died years before. Suicide was the official cause of death, but Jessica said her dad killed mom.

We would hang out at my house. I finally had some privacy there, my parents gave me the basement which had its own private entrance. We would look at naughty magazines and play around together.

She would ask me to whip her. I had told her that I had learned not to cry out when my parents beat me, and she wanted help learning to do that. So would whip her with a belt, just like my dad would do to.

We would go into the barn, and I would tie her to the supports. I whip her, and whip her, and she she’d try her best not to scream. More than once I hit her hard enough to draw blood.

After we would escape to somewhere where would cuddle and fuck. She taught me about going down on girls and kissing. She’d tell me about how her father fucked her, and how he’d bring his friends over too.

We’d scheme about escaping to New York. That’s where she wanted to go.

She was the first real loss in my life.

My dad caught us one afternoon. He came early. Laid off again. We didn’t hear his car come up the driveway, but he heard her screams from inside the barn.

I spun around when I heard the door behind us open. Dad punched me in the face, breaking my nose and knocking to the ground.

You want to tie girls up and hit them, he yelled, kicking me on the ground.

You fucking no good pervert was the last thing I heard before his steel toe work boot connected with my skull. Things went dark.

About a month later Jessica’s dad killed her. I say killed, even though it was officially classified as just an accident. He was drunk and drove them into a tree. He lived, and only got a DUI as I recall. It really should have been him instead…