Author's Notes: Thanks again to my beta KJ! Thanks to all "my girls" for encouraging me to write again. Oh and if you recognize the place – Burkittsville, MD as the home of the Blair Witch – yeah it was – but she has nothing to do with this story. Thanks in advance for reading and reviewing. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________ April 20th – Burkittsville, MD Justin's POV That first ray of sun breaks through the curtains and splays across my face. I turn my head and snuggle closer to my pillow, praying that dawn holds off for just a few more minutes. Like the dawn breaking gradually a realization comes over me; I'm not in my bed. Searching my memory I panic for a moment trying to remember where I might be before I remember that Brian let me stay the night. An odd sense of calm and a strange tingling warmth comes over me before I once again panic when I realize Mother and Father will discover my absence. I slowly roll onto my back and let out a deep sigh. It's then that I notice how close my body has moved to Brian's throughout the night. He must not have noticed or he must not mind; so I take a moment to indulge in feeling close to him, to absorb some of his body heat, and to plan my next move. "You're thinking too much" he says and startles me half to death. "I didn't realize you were awake." "I've been awake for about a half hour." The thought pops into my mind that he was awake for a half hour and did not make an attempt to move farther away from me while I slept on. I shrug off that thought as frivolous and having no bearing on the wrath I will face from Father for not being at home this morning. "What am I going to do?" "You're going to get up, get dressed, and go home. You have to face your Father at some point. The longer you put it off the harder it will be." I don't say much as I gather together my things and get dressed. Brian seems to have gotten a harder edge towards me in recent days. I can feel the disappointment rolling off of him in waves. I feel very much stuck in the hard place between my own feelings and my family obligations. The sense of foreboding only worsens the closer I get to the house. The moment I step out from the woods into our yard my mother is out the back door. "Justin! Where have you been? Do you have any idea how worried we were?" "I spent the night at Br…Mr. Kinney's house." "That man?!? Why would you spend the night in his house? Why weren't you home? What is going on with you?" Her voice got louder and higher pitched with each question. I finally look up into her eyes and over her shoulder see my father standing just inside the doorway. I think I am shaking slightly but I can't be sure whether its fear or anger coursing through me. I should not have to fear my father. What kind of man fears his father? Brian has told me time and again that it is time for me to be a man. Perhaps he is right. "Justin, get in the house and change your clothes. You are already several hours behind in your chores." He orders me around with very little feeling in his voice. It is almost the same tone he uses with Harold and the other slaves. The sudden reminder of Harold and how I was forced to treat him last night stirs something indescribable up inside me. "No." At this curt reply he is suddenly charging down the steps and is in my face within seconds. "You will do what you are told boy!" He screams at me; some spit flying from his mouth and hitting my face. I slowly wipe his spit from my face; look at my hand and then back up at him. "No Father. I will not. You cannot order me around like one of your slaves. I am a man and I will be treated as such." It happened so quickly I barely registered the feeling. My only real clue that he had slapped me was my mothers gasp and the slowly increasing warming sensation in my cheek. "At least my slaves have learned respect!" "No they haven't. Respect is earned not beaten. Fear and its subsequent obedience is not respect. To my knowledge no one respects you." This time I am fast enough to step back away from his swinging fist, so I continue. "You will never again use me to beat your brand of respect into Harold or any of the other slaves." "This war will teach all you pansies the value of keeping people in their place" he spits out and walks away. I sigh, knowing the encounter is over and I have stood my ground; finally. "Justin you should not have provoked him like that. He will only find a way to take it out on you or someone else later." "I will live with the consequences of my actions mother. And he had better realize that he will have to live with the consequences of his." I walk into the house with my head held high; feeling better than I've felt in months. That high only lasts until I see Harold doing house work and moving stiffly due to yesterdays beating. I remind myself once again of Brian's encouragement to stand up and be heard. Walking over to Harold I try to come up with some type of apology for my actions and for my inactions. Harold is only 3 years older than I am. We grew up together these last few years. Father bought him at the age of 12 and he has been a slave on our farm ever since. I used to sneak into the fields and we would play together until Father caught us and gave Harold his first of many whippings. Deciding the direct approach is best I start with a simple "I'm sorry." When he doesn't respond I struggle to find more ways to say it. "Harold I'm sorry. I really am. I know that isn't good enough but its all I have. I promise I won't hurt you again. I promise I won't let him talk me into doing something like that again. Someday this farm will be mine, and if this war isn't successful I will make you a free man then." The silence coming from him only seems to deepen somehow. "Please Harold, please say something. Anything. Yell at me if you must." I watch with trepidation as Harold slowly struggles to pull his shirt over his head. Once it's off he turns around and tears come to my eyes when I have a close up view of all the old and new scars that litter his back like lines on a map. He turns back around and I summon the courage to look him in the eye. What I see scares me more than anything else ever has. His eyes are cold, dark, and empty. There is no longer any trace left of the child I once knew. And I know; I know that I am responsible for beating that last bit of hope and innocence out of him. I don't even try and stop him when he walks away without having put his shirt back on. I feel a little heartbroken that I wasn't able to make Harold see my side of things. I will continue to try. It might be easier when Father is gone. I will work harder to make him forgive me next time. Meanwhile, I can still feel pretty good about standing up to Father finally. My heart a little lighter than it was a moment ago I head to my room to change out of yesterday's clothes. Knowing the consequences might be great I decide to blow off my chores and make my way into town. Entering Brian's bar I scan the sparse mid-day crowd to find him. I walk over to where he stands counting up his liquor inventory and clear my throat to get his attention. "Taylor." He replies a little more curtly than I expected. "Hey." "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at home doing daddy's bidding?" I'm confused by the sneer in his voice and the way he is taunting me. Deciding he's just in one of his moods; I try and smile hoping to cheer him up. The smile doesn't quite reach my eyes and he smiles slightly at my effort. "I did it Brian. I stood up to him finally!" I know I sound like an anxious puppy looking for praise but I can't help it. "And?" "Well, he slapped me. But I still stood up to him. I told him he couldn't use me to beat the slaves, and that he couldn't order me around anymore." "Well that's great Justin." Why does that sound more like an insult instead of the compliment it should be? "But what else? What next? Did you tell him that owning people is wrong? Did you tell him that you disagree with him about the idea of Maryland seceding the Union? Did you stand up for anything you believe in? Did you stand up for Harold's right to live a free life?" I am at a loss for words. I had expected Brian to be proud of me for what I did, not to be disappointed in what I failed to do. He slaps down a newspaper in front of me. The large headline reading "Ft. Sumter Falls to Rebel Forces." "The war has begun. You are going to need to pick a side. Ft. Sumter was the first battle. It won't be the last. There were riots in the streets of Baltimore last night. The first bloodshed of this war was right here in Maryland. Your father is going to Annapolis to vote on whether or not we should secede from the Union. You need to pick a side. And until you do – you are not welcome in my home anymore. No more hiding Justin."