My summer of torment started just after graduation. I was looking forward to a summer spent getting paid to tutor some of the kids who were struggling with their grades, and taking it easy hanging out with friends before heading off to college in the Fall. I had always had an easy time with school and was excited for the challenges higher education would bring.
All was going according to plan, until my parents decided to let my cousin Ian stay with us. Ian had had a difficult time growing up. His mother was single, and had a history of drug and alcohol use. As a result, child services had removed Ian from her custody multiple times. It was not the first time he had come to live in my home.
Ian and I were opposites. Only a few months younger than me, he had always been physically superior. Hot headed where I was more rational, he preferred to solve problems with his fists, where I sought to use reason. He had discovered wrestling and football in high school and his physique showed how much effort he put into it. His grades suffered, though, and he was constantly in trouble at school. So he was often not allowed to compete. He had also failed to finish his senior year and had to be held back for summer school and extra semesters next year.
I wasn't looking forward to his arrival. He always managed to keep a certain air around my parents, but was very different once we were alone. During our childhood stays he had often gotten me in a secluded place and taken the opportunity to bully me, both verbally and physically. More than once he had struck me, being careful to land painful, but not serious blows, and diligently avoiding leaving any marks or evidence on my face. I had tried to complain to my mother early on, but she told me to keep it to myself and try to deescalate the situation as best I could with words. After all, if he got kicked out of our home, Ian might end up in another foster home. I didn't know the details, but I knew his experiences in those had not been good.
Ian arrived one afternoon, looking sulky and mean as usual. He greeted my parents with his usual charming words and thanked them for once again sharing our home. I walked with him to my bedroom, where we had set up a cot for him to sleep on. Our house was too small for a guest bedroom and he would be with us too long to sleep on the couch. He was used to this set up, as was I. I dreaded our first moment alone together.
He casually threw his belongings down on the cot and looked around the room. My room resembled more of a library than anything else. I had no sports trophies but instead plaques showing academic achievement. I sat nervously on the edge of my bed, facing him.
"Well, cuz. I see not a lot has changed." He stated, simply.
"Yeah Ian, I guess... Uh, how's getting back on the team going?"
"I'm working on it." He muttered. But his expression had gone dark. Wrong topic to bring up, I thought to myself. He took a step toward me, taking up the small space between the two beds. I felt a queasy fear begin to grow in my belly. "Say Paulie, sorry if me sleeping in here is going to cock block you from any action", he said.
I laughed nervously. "Oh, ah.... I don't really have girls over or anything, Ian. Its ok."
"Oh? He said, looking cruely amused now. "What about a boyfriend? You always seemed like a fag to me, anyway."
I frowned at him in response. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He stepped closer to me, our knees touching. I swallowed hard, unable to tell him to back off. He reached out and ran his finger down my face.
"Yeah", he said, "you would have made such a pretty girl." And then, unexpectedly, he slapped me with that same hand. "Well don't you get any ideas with me sleeping in here, you fag! I don't want you thinking I'm into any of that!" And he slapped me again, harder.
"Jesus, Ian, I'm not like that!" I said, my voice rising.
