But this enrages Burke, and he shakes Nathan violently, then shoves him against the low roof. Nathan bangs his head again and collapses. He is a heap on the floor, rising up on his arms, as Burke looms over him. "We ain't going nowhere." He is unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans and stepping out of them furiously. A shadow plays over his bare arms and thighs. Nathan tries to stand and Burke says, "If you move from that spot I'll kill you right now."
He flings down the jeans. He stands there breathing. Nathan, dazed, can hardly keep him in focus. But the mass of him is there, waiting.
"That hurt you? When I pushed you?"
Nathan shakes his head.
"You do like I say, I won't hurt you."
Silence.
"You hear me?"
"Yes."
"You going to do like I say?" "Yes."
He can focus now. A blur resolves to the motion of arms and legs, Burke standing over him, jerking him up by the shirt collar. Then rough motion ensues, that Nathan hardly follows, and his face is crushed against Burke, against fabric that smells of sweat; then Burke shoves his undershorts down his thighs and pushes his cock against Nathan's lips.
The house has become silent again. Burke looks down at Nathan, at Nathan's mouth, at his own hand around his cock. He runs his free hand roughly through
Nathan's hair, then cups the back of Nathan's head. "You better do it."
Weariness. The hollow place in Nathan is echoing now, the inner wind is ripping him to rags, entering through the place where Dad tore him, the opening that Burke sees now, the wound that does not close. The dark attic fills with the sound that only Nathan can hear, the one note of the one song. He has knelt in this way before, there is nothing to do but let go again, with his head throbbing. It is as if he deserves it, as if both he and Burke understand that he is made for this use. There is a hole in Nathan, and Burke can see it; Dad opened a hole in Nathan, and now anyone can use it. He opens his mouth, he makes a circle. Burke pushes inside.
Burke is rough and clumsy. Worse, an urgency, a need to burn, fills him, and he batters Nathan. Nathan gags and can hardly get air, but Burke's band at the back of his head forces him to remain. Burke is very excited and breathes like a bellows. His body stiffens and presses spasmodically against Nathan. The skin smells of alcohol and sweat. Nathan focuses, as he learned to do with his father, on the small details, on the curling of a particular hair or the slight ridge of a vein. With Dad he learned not to close his eyes, it made Dad mad. But Dad could make a lot of noise, Burke is silent. He squeezes Nathan's head and there is something fierce in the pressure, added to the sudden thrust of Burke's groin, and the thing in Nathan's mouth swells up. Burke thrashes and gasps, shoving himself against Nathan's face. The hand hurts. Burke pushes him back to the floor and pounds himself against Nathan, banging his head on the floorboards, till Nathan is nearly unconscious.
But then he is thrown again, across something, roughly. He is reminded of Burke's strength, of the feeling of uncontrollable fury in him. When Nathan is still again, he kneels against a wooden beam. Burke comes behind him, jerking Nathan's shirt up his shoulders. Nathan's pants are already around his knees. Burke fumbles with Nathan's undershorts, ripping them before he slides the elastic across Nathan's buttocks. The sense of nakedness is keen. With his hand he is guiding himself into Nathan from behind, spitting into his palm and rubbing the spit on his cock. Nathan recognizes the sound, the motion. He tries to go away. There is no reason to run, it will end, it always does. But Burke is rougher than Dad, and when he enters it is as if he wants to make Nathan hurt, everything is tearing. Nathan whimpers a little and tries to push Burke off; but Burke wraps Nathan with both arms and slams into him. He is making harsh sounds and moving furiously, saying words Nathan can hardly hear. The feeling of violence swells, and Burke shoves his face to the floor, begins to pound it with his fist from behind, slamming hard, over and over again. He releases Nathan as he comes. Nathan lies perfectly still on the floor. His face is bloody, and he cannot open one eye. Burke whimpers as he pulls free of Nathan. He stares down at himself. His body is rigid, every muscle corded. His face is one wash of misery as he stares down, at nothing. He groans. His fist crashes down once, onto Nathan's gut; Nathan doubles over, chokes and gasps. Then something else flashes. Burke lifts the chair leg like a club. He tests the weight in his hand. He swings. He swings again.
It surprises Nathan, that he can hear his own skull crack. The last motion he sees is the chair leg falling into the center of his face. A hole opens up in his head, and the wind touches his brain. He is never sure when Burke leaves, whether he dresses first or carries his clothes. The night lasts a long time. He cannot rest.
