The Dirty Boys Book Club

raise my hands to protect my face from the leather strap hurtling through the air. It snaps against my wrist and fingers, cutting into the skin. Before I can process the first lash, several rain down on my arm, a deluge of terror that reddens my flesh with livid welts. In quick succession, the belt falls time and again, a wave that never ebbs, but just keeps coming, keeps crashing over me. The leather slashes into my back and my legs. The buckle nicks my knee, and I howl like a wounded animal, but there’s no one to rescue me. I am the dumb lamb that wandered from the fold, and I’ve stumbled into the razor teeth of a hunter’s trap.

“You always do stupid things that make me have to hurt you,” he says. “Why do you do that when I love you more than anything, Iris?” He sounds genuinely perplexed and sincerely irritated.

“Get your hands off me.” I meet his eyes with no hesitation. “Or we call the cops right now, and I tell them everything. Think you’re the only one who can lie to the authorities? I’ll say you’ve been beating and raping me, too. You want to go down with Caleb? Does your loyalty really stretch that far?”