Violence Begets... (30 page)

“Don’t go,” I said, as he pulled against
my restraining hand. “I won’t survive without you.”

“You won’t survive
with
me. You
can’t stay focused.”

“Really? This comes down to you or my
father? He’s out of the picture next week anyway. Who do you think I’ll choose?”

“You don’t have a choice,” he nearly
cried, still trying to pull his arm free.

“There’s always a choice.”

“You say that now, but what happens
next time he’s holding a gun to your head and your focus slips for a second because
of some stupid thing I said or did? What if he tracks you down because of some mistake
you make because of me? I can’t be the cause of another person I love dying,” he
said, his voice cracking.

“I’d rather take that chance than live
one more second without you in my life,” I said.

He pulled harder, finally standing up
and breaking free of my restraining grip on his wrist. I followed him up, grabbing
both of his hands in mine. Out of the corner of my eye, through the front window,
I saw my father walking up the sidewalk towards the house. He wasn’t supposed to
be back until the next day. Why was he in the front yard, not the garage? Panicked
thoughts began to fly through my head. I looked at Rick, still trying to leave.
I had to finish things with him. If I let him leave, he wouldn’t come back. He thought
he was protecting me. I looked at him and he had tears in his eyes. He was done.
He was serious. Fuck! Why couldn’t he see that he was wrong?

Glancing out the window again, I caught
my father looking at us, shock on his face as he saw my fingers laced with Rick's.
Without thinking, I reached for Rick’s face and whispered, “I choose you,” right
before I kissed him. If he wasn’t going to fight for us, I would. My father could
fuck off.

 “I’m so sorry,” I cried as the words,
“I love you!” came from my lips for the first time since my mom had left. Again
my lips found his. I let my arms wrap around him, pulling him tight against me,
kissing him, pouring my soul, my life into his. His arms enfolded me and I felt
his body melt into mine. He had no idea what was about to happen. I held him and
prayed that with him by my side, my father just might let me out of the house alive.
I lost myself in his embrace, the movement of his lips, the way my heart soared,
having finally admitted that I loved him.

My father clearing his throat ripped
me from the light Rick was pouring into me. I spun, finding him standing in the
room. I hadn’t even heard him come in the door, let alone into the room. I wondered
how long he had watched me lose myself in our kiss.

“Rick, would you mind heading home?
I think Kevin and I have some matters to discuss,” he said pleasantly.

I hoped my voice didn’t betray my fear
when I responded, “We are leaving here together.”

He paused at my blatant defiance, this
being something I’d never done. After a slow breath, eyes locked on mine, he again
asked Rick to leave.

“I don’t think you heard me. We are
leaving together.” I counted a few beats, trying to calm my nerves and preparing
myself for what I was about to say. “This is over. I am leaving. Do you understand?”
I watched the anger flare in his eyes, something that had me automatically taking
a few steps backward. I reached for Rick’s hand, pulling him so he was directly
behind me, shielded from my father. I prayed that my father’s desire to keep what
he did a secret would outweigh his desire to destroy me.

He took a step towards me. “You are
not leaving here until we talk things through.” He forced a smile, leaned to the
side and turned his gaze on Rick, “Please leave. Now!” he said through gritted teeth.
As fear rendered me speechless, Rick stepped forward, coming to my side.

“I won’t let you hurt him anymore. We
are leaving together.” My father stared blankly at Rick, trying to comprehend his
words. His eyes came slowly back to mine.

“He knows?” he growled at me. I was
too scared to reply. I stood completely still, not breathing, knowing that a false
move could have catastrophic results. My father took a step back and bowed his head,
shaking it back and forth. “Rick, I am sorry Kevin was selfish and involved you
this. It was never my intent to have a witness to his disobedience.” With a quick
movement, my father turned and closed the curtains on the front window. As the meaning
of his words and actions crashed over me, terror boiled through my veins, forcing
me into action. Without hesitation I turned and shoved Rick towards the kitchen.

“RUN!” I screamed at him as I turned
back to my father, not waiting to see if Rick listened to my command. As my father
moved to take a step around me, following in the direction I’d shoved Rick, I pulled
back my arm and threw a punch straight into his face. At the sound of his breaking
nose, I threw another punch, landing right under his jaw. Shock flooded his eyes
as he stumbled several steps back. Knowing he was stronger than me, and that the
element of my surprise attack was my only advantage, I took several more swings,
backing him up until he fell onto the couch. Adrenaline and my fighting instinct
took over as I tried to buy as much time as I could for Rick to make his escape.
As I climbed on top of him, I kept throwing punches until at last his strength kicked
in and he flung me off him, tossing me into the coffee table. I groaned loudly as
it gave way beneath me, sending sharp stabs of pain where the splintered wood dug
into my body. Within moments, he was standing over me with fists flying at my face.
I tried to shield the blows, but they rained down with such force that I was left
defenseless.

From within my haze of pain, I heard
Rick’s voice cut through my fear as he screamed, “Leave him alone!” an instant before
running into my father, which caused him to stagger several steps away from me.
I tried to shake my head at Rick, pleading with him to leave but knowing it was
too late. As he reached for me in an attempt to help me up, my father wrapped his
fists into Rick’s shirt, picking him up and slamming him against the wall.

“It really was a stupid decision for
you to come back,” my father said, smiling as he dropped Rick to the floor with
a knee to the groin. He grabbed Rick’s hair, hauling him up so he could slam the
back of his fist against his face. As Rick rocked to the side he was met with another
fist that spun him around, sending him crashing into the bookcase. I clambered to
my feet in horror, begging my body to move faster than it was. Again, my attack
from behind caught my father off guard, allowing me to connect several punches.
Moments later, Rick was at my side, adding his own fists to the fight. I allowed
myself to feel hope for our potential escape as my father reeled back towards the
formal dining room. Just when I thought we were about to overtake him, he reached
out to a nearby end table and in one swift motion grabbed a lamp, slamming the wooden
base against the left side of Rick’s head. As Rick lurched to the side, my father
brought his swing back and the lamp collided with his right arm, sending Rick sprawling
the other direction, collapsing to the floor.

Through my distraction with Rick lying
motionless on the carpet, I felt my father yanking on my hair. I stumbled and grabbed
onto his fist, waiting to be thrown into a wall. When I heard the door of the hall
closet open, I kicked at him, desperate to free myself. Like a doll, he flung me
into the tangles of coats and hangers and slammed the door. With the ease of experience,
he locked the door with the key that fit every closet in the house, explicitly designed
for the purpose of confining me at his convenience.

I watched through the slats as he moved
back towards the area he’d left Rick. I couldn’t see them, but heard Rick moan as
I imagined my father picking him up. I threw myself hard against the closet, hoping
to break through the lock or the hinges, but despite my strength, it barely budged.
He’d known what he was doing when he installed the doors. As my father intentionally
brought the fight back into my view, I could hear myself screaming, but the words
sounded foreign to me. As Rick struggled to withstand his fists, my father finally
turned to the increasing sound of my cries.

“Shutup!” he grumbled as he dropped
Rick to the floor, coming back towards the closet. I continued to bang and scream,
anything to keep his attention off Rick. He unlocked the door and yanked it open.
I tried to duck below his arm as he reached out for me, but his giant fingers closed
around my neck and he lifted me several inches off the ground, thrusting me through
the clothes and against the back of the closet wall. “I said shutup,” he spoke quietly.

I watched through the hanging coats
as Rick found his way to a standing position and made a weak attempt to rush my
father from behind. I tried to shake my head at him, tried to communicate with him
through my eyes that he should run while he could. Without even looking back, my
father swung his arm and sent Rick flying towards the ground and out of my sight.
I kicked and clawed against my father’s hand as I fought for air. He glanced momentarily
behind him and then turned his eyes on me. There was nothing there—no satisfaction
from the pain he was causing, not even anger. He was empty, deadly. As things began
to get fuzzy, I tried to find Rick, to hear any sound that would give me a clue
to his condition. I fought and struggled for breath. I thought I heard him moan
as my father’s fingers continued to cut off my air supply. I heard another crash,
and it crossed my mind that it was my body hitting the floor as darkness swallowed
me.

Years of waking up curled in a ball
in the closet had me aware of my surroundings before I opened my eyes. I could feel
the tightness of the cramped space as my body fought to stretch out the pain. I
coughed as I took in a ragged breath, my swollen throat feeling tight and sore.
I reached for the closet handle, not expecting it to be unlocked, and tumbled out
as the door fell open.

As my eyes adjusted to the light in
the room, the events leading up to my enclosure in the closet came rushing back.
I struggled with reality as I observed the remnants of the attack. A majority of
the furniture was either broken or smeared with blood. The bookcase was tipped over
and items from the shelves were strewn about. Rick had put up a fight. I noticed
the lamp lying against the wall with red covering the wooden base. I tried not to
look at the blood on the couch, splattered on the wall…and, god almighty, the ceiling.

I started screaming, not knowing how
the fuck anyone could survive the disaster I saw before me. Within moments my father
came barreling into the room, slamming his fist against my face to quiet me. I rolled
back and clambered to my feet.

 “Where is he?” Hysteria cracked through
my voice as blood dripped from my lip. A slow smile tugged at the corners of his
mouth as he witnessed my distress.

“He’s not here.”

“Where is he? What happened?” I said,
stumbling towards him, tripping over the shelves from the bookcase. “What have you
done? Where is he?” He backhanded me and I tripped over the broken coffee table
onto the couch, landing in blood already turning the color of rust.

“It’s upsetting that I couldn’t continue
his destruction with you watching, but you wouldn’t shut up and then Jim Taylor
showed up.” I held my breath, knowing Jim was a cop. “Someone called the police,
I suspect because of your loud mouth. As soon as I heard the knock on the door,
it didn’t take me long to guess who was there.”

“What? What did you tell them? Where’s
Rick?”

“It was easy to convince them that I’d
come home from my business trip and met Rick outside the house, looking for you.
I invited him in, assuming you were inside, but you were nowhere to be found. Instead
we came upon some home intruders. Of course, they attacked when they saw us. Sadly,
your friend…,” he let the word drip slowly off his lips, “got the worst of it before
they ran out the back door. I told them I had tried to help him, to wake him, you
know—to explain his blood all over me. Your absence was hard to explain, but I told
them I had no idea where you were. It really is too bad they showed up. I was looking
forward to letting you find his dead body when you woke up.”

 “What the fuck did you do to him? Did
you kill him?” I screamed, lunging at him from the couch, but he easily tossed me
aside with a swing of his arm.

“Watch your mouth. You better knock
it off or I’ll do the same to you,” he growled at me, continuing his explanation.
“On second thought, I bet it was your little friend Jeremy who called the cops.
He was lurking in the front yard when I answered the door, stuck around eavesdropping
until they left. We’ve had quite the guest list this afternoon.”

I started inching towards the front
entrance, planning to make a run for it. If he wouldn’t tell me where Rick was,
I’d find him myself. He grabbed my arm “Where do you think you’re going? You need
to stay here and clean up this mess.” He threw me to the floor, and I felt pieces
of glass from a picture frame cut through my skin. My mind raced. How could he have
done this? What had he done? Had he killed him? I stood, rushing at him again.

“What have you done to him?” I insisted,
and he startled at my rage. I threw a punch at him and then another. For the second
time that day, he looked at me in shock, surprised yet again at my ability to fight
back. “You better tell me what you did, or so help me god…” I punched him and he
fell against the wall. I knew if he turned on me again I’d have no chance for escape.
I had to get out of the house if I was going to live. I bolted out the door, running
for Jeremy’s.