Page 18 - Tank

He had been too. The owner picked him up at the station. Never signed a single
piece of paper or stopped to get Matt’s things. He walked into the station, retrieved
Matt; and walked out.
When the owner got Matt home, he called all the boys to the garage. Made them
all watch as he stripped Matt’s tee shirt off. Tied him to the pole in the center. Then
he proceeded to beat Matt with a length of braided wire.
“You know what braided wire is?’ Matt asked Annabelle. Her mother looked on
with horror. “It’s thin lengths of wire wrapped together into a rope. This one was
the width of your little finger.”
The first time he hit Matt, he screamed. He’d never felt such intense pain. Nor had
he heard such terror in the silence of the other boys. The second time the wire rope
took some of the skin from his back. The third time Matt begged him to stop.
The next time Matt felt nothing. He heard the swish of the hated wire as it struck
flesh. Only it never found his own flesh.
“Momma said help,” Tank whispered in his ear as he stood in front of Matt.
Stood and took the punishment. Let the owner beat on him. Beat on Tank until his
arms failed.
Tank was a bloody mess. It was how he got his nickname. All who watched
thought he took the beating like a tank. He never moved. He never spoke. He never
looked like it hurt him in any way.
When the owner couldn’t raise his arms any longer, Tank turned around. Walked
up to the man. Took the wire rope from his hands. Then he did something
extraordinary. He ripped the braided wire rope in half.
“Did I tell you Tank was strong?” Matt asked.
Tank parted the wire rope like it was a blade of grass. Took the owner’s belt from
his pants and ripped it in two as well. Looked into the man’s eyes. Took several
minutes to finally speak.
“Momma says no more,” Tank said. His words hard to understand, but everyone
heard him. Tank had drawn a line in the sand. One the owner knew not to cross.