Violence Begets... (10 page)

“Thanks, but I can’t.”

“You can and will.”

“Your dad—”

“Doesn’t have to know. Drop it. I need
sleep.”

And with that the conversation was over.
He settled back in his chair, leaving the bed for me, and closed his eyes.

He left me alone a lot; I slept and
took whatever pills he threw at me. Kevin had had the sense to grab my phone and
charger, but my dad never called.

On the next night, he came in with some
weed. “Feeling up to getting high?”

“Sure.”

He lit up the joint and some incense
to mask the smell of the pot, which was much easier to disguise than cigarette smoke.
I figured that’s why it was okay in his mind to smoke weed in his house but he insisted
we smoke normal cigarettes outside.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, think I can go home now. Still
sore, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“What if he comes at you again?”

“I don’t think he will. I think he’ll
lay off for a while.”

“That’s stupid thinking. It could get
you killed,” he said irritably.

“Well, if I don’t think that way then
I’ll be too scared to ever go home, and we can’t have that.”

“Kevin?” I heard his dad holler from
upstairs, followed by footsteps.

“Fuck, he’s home early.” Kevin threw
the joint out the window, slamming it shut as he did. He then turned and shoved
me towards his closet while he sprayed some air freshener. We heard footsteps on
the stairs.

“Get in here and shut up.”

His dad threw open the door of his bedroom
just as the closet door swung towards me but didn’t latch. Kevin whirled around.
Through the open crack I could see the back of Kevin’s dark shirt as he stepped
away from the closet.

“Shit!” I heard him say quietly.

“Didn’t I ask you to mow the lawn while
I was gone?”

“Sir, I didn't expect you until tomorrow.”

“So you wait until the last minute?
That is not very smart.”

“I will do better.” Kevin backed up
closer to the closet door.

“Empty promises do not mean anything
in this house. You screw up, you deal with the consequence.” He took a deep breath
and his voice came out low and controlled. “Move!”

I heard Kevin's sharp intake of breath.

“Sir, please. I’m sorry. I’ll go do
it right now.”

“Excuse me?” his dad said. I couldn’t
see him as Kevin was still standing with his back to the closet, but I could hear
his voice getting closer. “I said move. Do not make me say it again!”

“Sir, please.” Kevin repeated, his voice
pleading. It unnerved me to hear his tone so out of character for him, so close
to begging. Suddenly, he was yanked away from the closet and I saw his dad throw
him against the wall. I grasped my hands over my mouth, not breathing as I stumbled
backwards into his clothes, desperately trying to still myself so not to alert Kevin’s
dad to my presence.

“Why do you insist on making this harder?”

His dad laughed and it scared me more
than any of his words had. It also frightened me that I’d seen this side of Kevin
often, and I thought I knew what followed.

His dad pushed him against the wall
face first. It reminded me of a scene in a movie where some guy's getting arrested
and has to put his hands on the wall. Kevin spread his feet and bowed his head.
From where I was I could see how he carefully spread each one of his fingers.

“Good boy.”

 His dad took his time unbuckling his
belt and pulling it loose from his pant loops. He wrapped the end around his palm
twice, tugging at it for a good grip and letting the buckle end go so it swung and
settled heavily on the floor next to his shoes. He stood there for several moments,
and I could see Kevin’s shoulders rising and falling slowly. As his dad pulled his
arm back, I pressed myself hard against the back of the closet and closed my eyes.
This couldn’t be happening, not to Kevin. I expected screaming, but all I heard
was the belt hitting him and the whistle of his breath as he pulled it in through
gritted teeth. The sound of it slicing through the air sent terrible images of my
dad beating me ripping through my head. My dad held onto the buckle end, which made
sharp, cracking noises, but Kevin’s dad slammed the heavy buckle into his body,
replacing the crack with a dull thump. I opened my tear-filled eyes just as Kevin
collapsed and fell to the floor. His dad didn’t stop.

“Next time, get it done,” his dad finally
said coldly. He was putting his belt back on as he walked out the door and shut
it behind him. I waited until I heard the TV turn on upstairs. Wiping the tears
from my face I took a deep breath and pushed the door slowly open, moving cautiously
towards him. He was still kneeling on the floor by the wall as I came up behind
him.

“Give me a minute.”

His voice was harsh and strained. He
looked at me, and I was surprised to see that there weren’t any tears on his face,
only the struggle for control.

“Fine, umm,” I said, thinking of what
he’d done for me the first time my dad hit me. “I’m going to get a damp towel in
the bathroom.”

He started to pull himself up. Again
I was surprised at how quickly he was recovering from everything. It’d taken hours
for me just to get myself moving that first night.

“Do you need help?”

“Please, no. Just go.”

“I’ll be in the bathroom.”

The light flickered slightly as I walked
into the bathroom attached to his room. I found a towel and ran some water on it.
I knew how Kevin felt. The first time my dad hit me had rocked my world. The first
had been the worst, so unexpected. I wondered what had finally pushed his dad to
the breaking point. I knew I had to find a way to be there for Kevin the way he’d
been there for me; however, there seemed to be something different with Kevin. I
couldn’t put my finger on it, but the idea flirted at the edge of my mind. What
had happened just didn’t feel the same as what my dad had done to me.

I turned as I heard him in the doorway,
and the towel slipped from my hands. Having removed his shirt, Kevin stood stiffly,
staring unapologetically at me. My eyes wandered over his bare arms and chest, taking
in the images that refused to make sense. There were so many bruises, I couldn’t
tell where one began and another ended. His left shoulder was nearly black, while
a giant bruise under his ribcage was yellowing around the edges. There were red
circles and streaks appearing around his sides from the belt hitting him moments
before. Then there were the scars—hundreds of little hair-like white wisps and bigger
red, screaming ones, jagged and raw. At first I was confused at the mess I saw before
me, but then realization clenched down and solidified immediately. I’d assumed the
beating had been his first, but the multitude of scars and bruises told a different
story. How’d I miss the signs when I knew them so well myself? What could I possibly
do or say to him? I noted the tears silently falling from his unwavering eyes. Kevin?
Crying?

As soon as I met his eyes, he took a
few steps towards me, grabbed my face roughly, and smashed his lips into mine. The
first thing I felt was pain from the remnants of my own beating, then the realization
of what he was doing. I shoved him away instantly, appalled by what he’d done. He
fell against the wall and grimaced. With his head bowed, he slowly raised his eyes
to mine. They were unlike anything I’d ever seen. There was such depth and openness
that my heart started racing in my chest, and after several beats, I reached for
him and returned his kiss. He desperately grabbed the back of my neck with both
hands and pulled me into a more demanding embrace. I didn’t think. I just reacted,
moving my lips frantically against his. I pulled at his body, only thinking for
a split second about his bruises as my hands ran across his rough and textured skin.
My mind shut off and instinct took over, adrenaline and desire driving me towards
him. He stopped abruptly and pulled slightly away from me, holding me firmly several
inches from him as my body gravitated to his. I saw in his eyes what I felt but
couldn’t explain. My breath hitched in rhythm with his. I wanted him to kiss me
again, and I was equally repulsed by the idea. He dropped his hands to his sides,
took a few slow steps backwards and turned away from me.

My first lucid thought was that I wanted
to run away, to leave this room with the flickering light. In a daze, I instead
took several steps into the steady light of his room just in time to see him pull
his shirt carefully back over his head. As it fell around his shoulders and then
to his waist, I watched as the colors of his pain disappeared. When I looked back
up at his face, I almost didn’t recognize the person looking back at me. What else
didn’t I know about him?

“Well?” he said shortly.

I honestly didn’t know what to say to
him. “Well what?”

“Fuck, Rick!” he said as his shoulders
heaved. “Maybe you should leave.” He turned and shoved open his bedroom window,
clearly showing me my exit route.

For some reason, it was the last thing
I expected him to do. It felt cold—like a rejection, even though I didn’t know what
he was rejecting me from.

“Why?”

“Unless you want to talk about my father
beating the shit out of me or the fact that I just fucking kissed you and you liked
it, then I think we should just call it a fucking night.” He glared over at me and
I felt my defenses kicking into place.

“What’s your problem?” I shot, not able
to comprehend what was happening.

 “Jesus, Rick. This really isn’t the
fucking time to be challenging me!” he spat at me as he walked towards his bathroom.
“I think you should leave now.”

I was feeling angry and hurt all of
a sudden.

“No!” I said, trailing after him.

He turned and cut his eyes at me as
they darkened into several shades of cold.

“Out,” he dismissed me.

Kevin

I shut the bathroom door behind me and
locked it, half expecting him to follow. I gripped onto the sink, staring at myself
in the mirror. My mind was reeling. I could feel my heart racing in my chest, and
I felt like things might actually fucking explode. My fingers flexed around the
edges of the sink, and I forced air into my lungs, counting, only half listening
for Rick to make his exit. When I was sure he’d left, I went back into my room,
found my stash of coke and laid out two lines, which I immediately chased with several
shots of Wild Turkey. I counted, pushing any memory of the last few days away until
I felt the effects. As soon as there was enough padding in my mind, I allowed myself
to calmly sort through the facts.

There had been close calls in the past—nosey
teachers, school counselors, even a few church leaders asking questions about the
bruises. My father was smart. He’d only overdone it once and had to take me to the
hospital, but that was after the first beating. Since then, he'd hidden things well,
making sure to avoid my face and visible areas. What he did leave behind, I made
sure to cover with clothes. Fucking long pants and shirts were a bitch in the summer,
but not even close to the beatings I got after some fuckhead came around asking
questions. People didn’t want to believe what they suspected. A united front and
a well-placed story from both of us did the trick with surprising ease. A few forged
doctor's notes to keep me out of gym, and an unspoken agreement between the two
of us to keep shit hidden had kept my secret safe, until now.

Rick knowing about my father was about
the last thing in the world I’d wanted to have happen. I knew the second I had seen
his eyes after my father left that Rick thought this was the first time for me.
I should’ve seen that as an opportunity and run with it. Instead, my stupid ass
pride got in the fucking way. I couldn’t stand the thought of him pitying me. I’d
torn off my shirt and planned on playing it cool. I was going to march into the
bathroom and prove to him that I could handle a few easy lashings of the belt, wanting
him to see that it wasn’t a big deal.

How the fuck I went from proving a point
to fucking kissing him, I don't know. One minute he was trying to comprehend what
he was seeing and the next he was looking at me like he fucking gave a shit. I hadn’t
even realized I’d started crying. I didn’t cry. Even during the harshest of beatings,
I rarely shed a tear. I especially never cried in front of another person. The second
I felt the tears, I panicked and kissed him before I fucking thought it through.
In that moment everything changed. I wanted him. I’d never seen it coming, but the
second his lips sought mine, I felt my control beginning to slip. Stopping the heat
between us had taken an amazing amount of self-restraint. Even after I put a stop
to the kiss, walking out of the bathroom was a desperate attempt to put some distance
between us. I would’ve taken him to my bed right then if I hadn’t walked away.

The point was that he knew the two biggest
secrets of my life. Rick having that kind of power and control over me was nothing
short of terrifying. I paced in my bedroom, knowing I had to figure out how the
hell everything had gone to fucking shit. I laid out another line as I started to
plan damage control.