Violence Begets... (31 page)

“Is he alive?” I screamed as Jeremy
opened the door.

“Kevin, what happened to you?”

“Alive? Is Rick alive?” I shouted, pushing
at him.

“He was when they took him,” Jeremy
stammered, then continued when I demanded he tell me exactly what had happened.
He told me he had come to the house looking for me. Even in the front yard, he could
hear the screaming. From the sound of it he knew it was bad. Of course, he hadn’t
thought it was my father or Rick. He really had no idea what was happening. Jeremy
had called the police and then waited until they showed up, hearing my father explain
his side of the story.

“Your dad seemed pretty torn up about
the whole thing. Where were you? Do you know who did this to Rick?”

“Where did they take Rick?”

“I’m not sure. Didn’t your dad tell
ya?”

I slammed my fist into a wall. “Fuck
my father! Think, Jeremy, where is he?”

“Relax man, I’m not sure, ummm, maybe
Alta View.”

“Take me there.”

“I can’t, my parents are on their way
home.”

I grabbed his shirt and slammed him
against the wall. “I’m not going to fucking ask you again.” I glowered at him. “Take
me there!”

He raised his hands, and said, “Fine,
fine, let’s go.”

The hospital was only about ten minutes
from the house. On the way, Jeremy pointed out the dried blood from my obviously
broken nose. He gave me some napkins to clean up with, and a shirt from his gym
bag in the back seat. I spent most of the time on the phone trying to get the nurses
to tell me if he was there and if he was okay. I didn’t get much, only that he had
been brought to the hospital after he’d been attacked.

Jeremy followed me into the hospital.
I went straight to the emergency room front desk. They gave me the runaround, saying
that I wasn’t family and they couldn’t give me any information. I saw his dad sitting
with Sylvia and Emma in the waiting room, and I rushed over to them. His dad actually
had the fucking nerve to look torn up.

“Where is he?” I demanded.

“He’s still unconscious, in ICU.”

“Is he going to be okay?”

He hesitated, “I don’t know. It’s pretty
bad. Can you tell us what happened?”

I paused briefly, calming myself and
kneeling down in front of Emma, knowing it was something Rick would want me to do.

“Hey kiddo,” I smiled. “You’re bother's
going to be just fine. I’m going to go check on him. Okay?” She nodded slightly,
and a small smile crossed her lips before she reached up and gave me a hug.

I stood, looking away from all of them,
trying to find someone who would know more than they did. Jeremy put his hand on
my shoulder. “Maybe we should sit down and wait to hear from the doctors.” I shrugged
his hand off and hurried away. Desperate to find Rick, I burst through the doors
to the ICU rooms.

“Can I help you?” a nurse asked me.

“No, I’m good.” I knew I didn’t have
much time before someone stopped me. I started checking the names on the charts.
Several rooms down the second hall I found Rick’s name and threw the door open.

I nearly fell to my knees, reaching
out to hold onto the wall for support. I knew I couldn’t be in the right place.
There were blood-soaked bandages everywhere. His face was purple with bruising and
so swollen. No, it couldn’t be Rick. I checked the name on the door again. Bile
rose in my throat at the thought of losing him. I ran to the bathroom and curled
over the toilet. Tears welled up in my eyes as I heard someone come into the room.

“I honestly don’t think the kid’s going
to make it,” a female voice said.

“I’ve never seen a beating like this,”
a male said.

“The poor thing, so young.”

“I’ll be surprised if he makes it through
the next hour.”

The steady beeping from the monitor
began a never-ending scream. “He’s flat-lining. Get some help in here, now!” the
woman called out. I came out of the bathroom unnoticed as doctors and nurses crowded
around his bed. I was frozen, watching my life die in front of me.

“Rick, please don’t leave me. I love
you. I’m so sorry,” I whispered. I was finally noticed and a nurse pushed me out
of the room. As the door closed, I overheard someone say, “I think we should call
it.”

The time that followed was blurry. How
I got out of the hospital and home was completely lost on me, but things came into
crystal-clear focus as I found myself screaming at my father, “My god, you killed
him!” while waving the gun he’d used to threaten my life. “I chose him.”

“Kevin, listen to me,” he said, holding
up his hands.

“Shut the fuck up!” I leveled the gun
to his face. “Don’t you fucking say a word to me. Did you see his body? Did you
see what you fucking did to him? My god, I loved him. This is your fault. He’ll
never know or understand…”

As I sank to my knees, crying, my grip
loosened on the gun. He took a few steps towards me, and I pointed it at him again.
“Don’t you fucking dare! He was the only good thing in my life. Why did you turn
on him? Why kill him and not me?”

“Don’t be stupid. I know you kissed
him after you saw me. I told him as much—”

“You did what? You fucking told him
that?” God, he’d never understand why I’d risked everything. How could he know that
I only thought I was putting myself in danger, I never imagined my father would
turn on him. “You don’t understand. I loved him!” I shrieked. “Don’t you get that?
I loved him! You deserve to die for all you’ve done. You deserve to die for killing
him.”

I stood, taking several slow steps toward
him. The safety on the gun released and my hand steadied. I stared into the eyes
of the man I called father, the monster who had found pleasure in my torture and
had killed the only light in my dark, fucked up world.

Then I felt it. I looked down at my
arm and nothing was there, but I felt Rick’s hand nonetheless, heard a silent plea,
“This is not the part of you I fell in love with.” I looked back to my father, hesitated,
and then found Rick’s words again. He loved me. He saw goodness in me. “Rick saved
your life today, but one day you’ll burn in hell for what you’ve done.”

I dropped the gun and ran from the house,
my mind racing with the images of Rick’s beaten and bloody body. I hadn’t been able
to recognize him. I’d kissed him. I’d done this. I ran to Zarahemla. The wind on
my face spread the wet tears as they fell, cooling my cheeks.

I tore into the abandoned barn and pulled
up the loose floorboards where we kept the alcohol and pills. Opening a bottle of
Wild Turkey, I started pouring it down my throat. “Rick” I screamed into the air,
“Rick, my love, I’m so sorry.” I grabbed a handful of pills and chased them down
with more whiskey. I wanted to make my feelings go away. I wanted to disappear.
I no longer deserved to be alive. I’d risked everything and I’d lost. I’d killed
him. I drank more and coughed. I grabbed more pills, surprised at the peace I felt
when I realized I wanted to die so I could join him. I couldn’t be in this world
without him. There was no light without his love. For once, I didn’t want to fight.

The room was starting to get fuzzy.
Another handful of pills and more whiskey, and I fell backwards onto the dirt. I
could feel my legs and arms starting to go numb, my body shutting down, everything
going slower, like my blood was trying to travel through mud, too much resistance.
I let the pills and alcohol overpower my body. Finally, I stopped trying to
control what was happing in my life, telling myself not to fight it. I welcomed
it. I’d be with him soon. I’d be able to tell him I loved him again and again. My
eyes closed, and I thought only of his arms wrapped around me as I drifted into
the peace of the darkness that would lead me to Rick’s light.

Rick

I nearly met death three times during
the twelve hours following my attack. I obviously don’t remember much except the
comings and goings of doctors, and my dad always in the room. He didn’t leave, which
I think hindered my healing process. Regardless, he stayed. I do remember asking
after Kevin and being met with vague answers.

I was told a story of home invaders
at Kevin’s, which at the time I didn’t remember. They wanted to know who attacked
me and where Kevin had been. I fought to piece together the events I could recall.
I remembered the fight at the 24
^th
of July party and going to check on
him. My heart pounded every time I thought of his words of love, then his kiss.
I didn’t remember anything after that, and couldn’t figure out who would’ve come
and attacked me and why Kevin had left me alone. Everything after his kiss remained
a blank until Kevin’s dad walked into my room. Then the memories came crashing over
me.

I started screaming and trying to get
out of bed. When he joined with my dad in an attempt to restrain me, I fought with
everything I had. I was convinced he’d try to finish what he'd started to keep me
quiet. With some weird protective instinct, it was my dad who ordered Kevin’s dad
to leave. The doctors had to sedate me.

Even after I remembered, I kept Kevin’s
secret. I didn’t understand why he hadn’t come to see me, but I’d given up understanding
him long before this. The police started coming around more, asking questions. To
protect Kevin, I claimed I didn’t remember the attack and left it at that.

I was surprised but didn’t think much
of it when two detectives asked my dad to leave my room. I was still a few weeks
shy of eighteen and I was pretty sure they couldn’t question me without him there.
The first thing they asked was if either Kevin’s dad or my dad had ever hit either
of us. I clamped up immediately. They tried several different ways to get me to
talk to them, but I refused to say anything. There was no way I was putting his
life into the hands of two people I didn’t know.

Not realizing I hadn’t heard about Kevin's
overdose, they inadvertently mentioned it during further questioning and I fell
apart. The news destroyed me.

Jeremy found his body at Zarahemla,
having gone looking for him after he tore out of the hospital. We later found out
that he’d been in my room when the crash cart was brought in, but he hadn’t stayed
around long enough to hear that they were able to revive me.

Hearing what Kevin had done, I knew
I had to talk. His dad had caused enough pain. I tried to explain the attack without
going into the kiss or what we felt for each other, but they kept asking me what
I was leaving out, knowing I wasn’t telling them everything. Finally, I told them
how I figured that his dad seeing us kiss, and my refusal to leave the house was
what had sent him over the edge. To their credit, they showed no judgment as they
continued asking questions.

I'd recognized Kevin’s kiss immediately
as his attempt to prove to me that he was choosing me, and I loved him all the more
for that. I knew that when Kevin kissed me he’d thought he was only putting himself
in harm's way, counting on his dad’s need to keep the beatings a secret, and I’d
been the one to ruin his plan. In the end, Kevin made the choice to gamble his life
on a chance to win love with me, and feeling guilty about my decision to stand by
him minimized his choice.

The time I'd spent at the hands of Kevin’s
dad were some of the most terrifying moments of my life. His methods were far more
sophisticated than my dad’s, and I had no doubt that he intended to kill me. It
took me almost an hour to get through the details of the attack.

I then went on to describe to the detectives
how I’d seen his dad punish him with the belt, and the three days he'd had to suffer
being restrained at gunpoint. I retold the many stories Kevin had shared with me.
The scars on his body and the evidence in his home validated everything. I hadn’t
planned on talking about my dad, but slipped up when I said that Kevin had always
been there to help me with my dad, and I’d be willing to testify or do whatever
it took to make sure the truth came out. They quickly threw in a question about
my last beating. I was exhausted and emotionally spent, and without thinking I told
them the truth.

Both of our fathers were arrested and
our stories were splattered across the news for months. Everyone found out about
Jason, the violence at home and, of course, our relationship. Sylvia stuck to the
story she had told herself all along. She claimed she had no idea what my dad was
doing to me, and that he had been under a tremendous amount of stress since Jason
died.

It was weeks before I agreed to see
Emma. I couldn’t bear the thought of her seeing me beat up like I was. As soon as
I felt it was okay, I asked to see her, but the visits were few and far between
thanks to Sylvia.

 Jessica was devastated to find out
everything I’d been keeping from her. She decided to put off school for a year,
and Derek stayed behind as well. Her parents insisted that I stay with them. Though
I missed Emma, it was nice to have people around who cared for me, so I stayed with
her family.

Mike and Jeremy turned out to be really
great guys, and they came to a majority of the court dates. During the main trial
they were there every day. I can’t really say what happened to Brett. He disappeared
with another group of friends.

The system wanted to restore my family
the best they could, and since my dad had only started hitting me after the loss
of Jason, they put him in counseling, along with some hefty fines and community
service. I went to one family session with him because he asked. He cried a lot
and said he was sorry. When he told me he loved me, I got up and walked out. I was
beyond caring if he meant it or if it was all a show for the courts. I haven’t seen
or talked to him since that day.

Kevin’s dad was so sure of himself,
and thought he’d win at trial. But thirteen months after his attack on me, he was
found guilty of seven charges, including felony child abuse and attempted murder.
He is serving a life sentence in prison.

Just before my 20
^th
birthday,
I changed my last name to Kennedy and moved to New York, where we’d always talked
about going. Since Jessica’s brother was the same age as Emma, Jessica was able
to keep tabs on what was going on with her, but for her own safety and mine, I haven’t
talked to her in years. I don’t doubt that Kevin’s dad could still hurt me, even
from behind the bars of prison. For this reason, I lie low and have very little
contact with those from my former life.

I finished college and work as a consultant
for an HR firm. I have a small but perfect apartment in Chelsea, and I frequent
local pubs where I play the guitar Kevin gave me, always closing with the song I
wrote for him. I don’t live a glamorous life, but I like the quiet routine. I still
drink on occasion, but haven’t smoked or used since the day his dad nearly killed
me.

It’s been ten years to the day since
my attack and Kevin’s overdose. I’ve heard that violence begets violence, but in
my world, violence begat love. There’s been no one since Kevin; I doubt there ever
will be. We were able to find love in each other when both our worlds were riddled
with pain. Violence only begets violence when we allow it to. We always have a choice.
Kevin chose me.