Immortal Coil: A Novel (Immortal Trilogy Book 1) (7 page)

“‘If your curfew is nine pm then you should be stepping through that door at nine pm; not nine fifteen, and definitely not ten. Do I…’ another slap of the belt. ‘Make myself…’ Another. ‘Clear, boy?’

“I was crying and tears were streaming down my face, but I could see my mother cringing in the doorway to their bedroom. Outside, the dogs were barking and frantically trying to get in and see what was happening.

“‘Do I?’ he asked, huffing and red faced.

“I was in too much pain to speak so I just nodded. This seemed to be enough because he walked away without further
behavior modification.
He brushed past my mother and went into the bedroom. My mother stared for a moment longer with a half sad, half angry look on her face as if this was my fault. When my tear-filled, puffy eyes did not turn away from her, she walked away. I staggered to my feet and walked to the back door where the dogs were still trying to get in. They knew I was upset and were visibly concerned about me. Ghost was at my side like a four-legged bodyguard and Frankie was whining and sniffing my leg, looking for the source of my distress.

“The next day, I checked my back in the bathroom mirror. There was a grapefruit sized red mark on my back and in the center of that was a black bruise in the shape of a square belt buckle. There were some welts on my arms and a few scratches here and there, but almost everything could be covered up.

“I was a natural at math and science and English, and I made lots of money doing homework for other kids. As I made my transactions in the hall, I wondered if any of them were aware of my stiffness and pain. No one suspected anything, but then why would they? As far as they knew everything was fine for me. When my friend Tim Warner sneaked up behind me and poked me in the ribs, I gasped in fear and pain.

“‘What’s up with that?’ he said and tried to poke me again. I instinctively protected my back. He could tell there was something I was hiding. ‘What did you do to yourself?’ he asked trying to lift my shirt.

“‘Cut it out, fag,’ I said and he backed off.

“‘What’s up with you and Darlene?’ he asked, changing the subject. I would almost rather tell him about my abuse.

“‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

“‘She said you were dissing her all night.’

“‘I wasn’t dissing her,’ I said defensively. ‘Not on purpose.’

“‘Anyway, I was going to ask you if you wanted to go to a Phillies game with me and my dad in a few weeks. We have an extra ticket and I thought I’d ask you if you wanted to go.’ I watched him as his eyes caught Rachael at the other end of the hall. He followed her as she walked toward us. ‘Hi, Rachael,’ he said when she walked by.

“She looked up and said hi to him, but she was looking at me when she spoke, and I got the distinct feeling she was really talking to me. He smiled, oblivious to the misdirection, however. When she was out of sight, he turned back to me and said: ‘So how about it? You want to go?’

“‘I’ll have to ask my folks,’ I said. I really did want to go, but I wasn’t going to get my hopes up that Ralph would allow that. ‘I’ll let you know.’

“The next day I told Tim I would go, even though I hadn’t asked Ralph. I figured I had two weeks to come up with an excuse if I couldn’t go.

“At home I wasn’t planning to ever let my guard down again, so I never entered or left the house without the dogs at my side. I tried to work up the courage to ask Ralph if I could go to the game with the Warner’s, but honestly I was more worried about him saying no to the request, than any punishment he might inflict.

“So I didn’t ask. I couldn’t bear the rejection, and I knew he would never have allowed it. And my mother was useless. She wouldn’t have stood up for me. Maybe I was making unfair assumptions, but I don’t think so. I knew their history too well to believe anything else was possible. Instead, I worked out a different plan. The game was on Friday night. Mr. Warner said I should be at his place by 7pm so we could head out and be there by eight. The game started at nine. On the day of the game I went to my room early, faking illness. The dogs were tied up out back. I fixed my bed to look like I was sleeping in it then climbed out my window. I made it to the Warner’s place ten minutes early. We went to the game and it was as nice as I had hoped. I thought Mr. Warner was the greatest guy on the planet. I wished he could have been my dad. I was jealous of Tim’s family—his life, for that matter. During the game I didn’t have a care in the world.

“On the way home was another matter, though. Had Ralph figured out I wasn’t in my room? What kind of hell was I in for? So many terrible scenarios raced through my head. Tim was oblivious to my distraction, but I think Mr. Warner knew something was up with me. I caught him glancing into the rear view mirror at me several times. But if he was suspicious of my behavior, he didn’t say anything about it.

“We arrived back at the Warner’s around two thirty. Mr. Warner offered to drive me home, but I told him it would be okay with my folks if I spent the night. When Tim was asleep, I slipped out of the house and walked back to my place. The window I had escaped through was still unlocked and I climbed back into my room. I removed my bed camouflage and climbed in for real. I guessed I had pulled it off.

“I was wrong.

“I woke with a gasp. My eyes were wild and searching, looking for the source of the pain that had awakened me. My frantic eyes came to rest on Ralph at the foot of my bed. He had my foot pinned down and was holding a lit cigar to the bottom of it. I kicked and screamed, but he would not let go of my foot until he was finished. As soon as he released my foot I curled into a ball.

“His eyes were sinister slits as he glared at me. ‘Maybe you’ll think twice about running off without telling me now,’ he said.

“With tears of pain, fear and frustration in my eyes, I spat at him. Or maybe I just wanted to, I’m not sure at this point.

“He puffed at the cigar. ‘Your mother doesn’t like me smoking in the house, but hell with her. She doesn’t make the rules around here.’ He said this as if it was just another conversation. He smiled and turned to leave. ‘Remember what I said; it’s a dangerous world out there.’ He puffed smoke at me. ‘You should be careful.’

“I applied first aid to my burned foot when I thought he was through with me. Later that morning, when my mother asked me why I was limping I could have sworn she was smirking. Did she know? I just glared at her and didn’t answer.

“There were more moments of abuse throughout that year, but mostly just the typical hitting; sometimes a punch or two. Ralph had noticed that when the dogs were around and he hit me, the dogs would growl and even snap at him.

“At school I started avoiding Darlene when I realized Rachael would visit me more often if Darlene wasn’t around. Tim still liked Rachael and encouraged her company whenever he could. Suddenly, the group went from Darlene and her posse to just Tim, me and Rachael. That was just fine with me. And it was fine with Tim, too.

“During the summer break, the three of us would head down to the Jersey shore and swim in the ocean. We hung out on the boardwalk, and ate funnel cakes and cotton candy. I started asking Ralph for permission to spend time with my friends and, oddly, it was granted.

“I was eating curly fries with vinegar, a boardwalk staple, and Rachael was sharing them with me. Tim was ripping off chunks of his funnel cake and threatening to wipe his sticky fingers on us when it dawned on me that I was actually acting like a normal teenager. I wasn’t afraid for my life, or in pain of any kind. I wanted to stay there forever, and never return home. I suddenly looked very sad, and when Tim left to throw his trash away, Rachael asked why.

“Could I tell her? I wanted to, but I didn’t think I could. Not now, and not there. ‘I’m just wishing this day could last forever,’ I said and she smiled.

“‘We’ll have more days like this,’ she assured me.

“Tim returned and announced he was heading to ‘the dunny, the can, the loo’.

“‘To do number two?’ I asked, purposely rhyming with him. He flipped me off.

“When we were alone again, Rachael asked: ‘Will you tell me what’s really bothering you? Most times you’re this sweet and happy-go-lucky guy, and you look so handsome when you’re smiling. But then I see you when you think no one is looking and you’re so sad. I can’t help but think you’re hiding something bad, and it scares me.’

“When I looked at her, there were tears brimming in her eyes.

“I went to speak and instead made this strange stuttering sigh, and then my eyes were filled with tears. ‘I don’t have a good home life,’ I admitted in a whisper. It was the hardest sentence I ever had to utter. I didn’t want her to know this, but I had to say something. ‘Besides my dogs, you and Tim are the best things in my life right now, and I never want to…’

“Before I knew what was happening, Rachel leaned in and kissed me. When she pulled away there was a line of spit connecting our lips. When it broke, so did the spell.

“Tim returned and sat down between us. Had he seen? I didn’t think so; he didn’t act as though he had. He did, however, feel as though we were sitting too close and that was why he pushed us apart and put one arm around each of us. ‘Who’s up for some games?’ he asked. We went off in search of fun and laughter in the hot Jersey sun.

“After that I made it a point to bottle up my unhappiness when I was with them.

“We three were together for most of that summer, and although Rachael tried to get more information out of me about just how bad my home life was, I was tight-lipped on the subject. The three of us spent a lot of time in Tim’s back yard. He had some cool games like ladder ball and yard darts.

“When the summer was over and we went back to school something seemed to change between Tim and me. He was not as outgoing as I normally knew him to be. We still hung out together, but Tim suddenly seemed more depressed than me. This worried me, and it also kind of angered me. What did he have to be so depressed about? He had the life I wanted. I thought it was odd that Rachael noticed my depression but Tim didn’t, and I noticed Tim’s depression but Rachael didn’t. We were a bizarre triangle.

“It was a subtle transition, but our trio was now more of a duo as Tim slowly stopped hanging around with Rachael and me. It started with him skipping lunch, and then finding other stuff to do during study hall. Eventually, we didn’t see him after school either. Rachael was fine with this but I wasn’t. Tim was my ‘brother from another mother’ (his saying, not mine) and I missed him.

“Rachael and I had been hanging out at the park after school, but she could tell my thoughts were elsewhere. After about an hour of my moping and she was unable to get me to talk, she gave up and went home. I walked the seven blocks to Tim’s house and stood across the street until I could muster up the nerve to confront him, and get him to tell me what was going on. When I did, he answered the door on the first knock.

“‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

“‘I came to find out why you’re avoiding us. Avoiding
me
,’ I answered.

“‘I’m not,’ he said.

“‘Bull,’ I snapped. ‘You’ve been avoiding me, and I want to know why. Is it because of the kiss? It didn’t mean anything—’

“‘What kiss?’ he asked, alarmed. The alarm faded from his face when he realized it didn’t really matter anyway. ‘I knew she liked you better, anyway.’ He said. He sounded defeated and hurt. ‘You should have told me about the kiss, though.’

“‘If it’s not that, then why have you been dissing me?’ I was desperate to know now. He still hadn’t let me in yet and I was beginning to think he wasn’t going to. Had things between us gotten that bad? ‘What did I do that made you hate me so much?’

“‘I don’t hate you,’ he said. He realized then that whatever he was keeping from me couldn’t be kept a secret anymore. He moved aside and let me in. I followed him to his room passing the living room where his parents smiled at me and said hello. I returned the greeting but didn’t stop. We entered his room and he closed the door. I sat on his bed while he pawed aimlessly through his CD’s. There was nothing he wanted to hear, he just needed something to do with his hands while he tried to come up with the words.

“With a sigh, he turned to me and said: ‘In a month or so my parents and I are going to be moving to California. My Dad’s got a new job out there, and we have to…’

“I didn’t hear anything else he had to say, couldn’t hear it. My head was pounding and one word was echoing over and over again in my ears:
moving
. He was moving away and leaving me to face the hell that was my life alone. He, Tim, was the only one that could keep me feeling unbroken and grounded in reality. When I was with him and his family I felt normal. I felt wanted. I felt
safe
.

“‘Dave, are you hearing me?’ he was asking when I was able to focus again.

“I looked up at him, and with tears rimming my eyes, threatening to spill over I said, ‘Take me with you.’

“He stared at me for a minute, not sure how to respond.

“I knew this wasn’t a possibility, but still I had to do something. I could no longer carry this burden alone. The tears flowed and so did my story. ‘If you don’t take me with you, he is going to kill me. My stepfather is crazy. He beats me and terrorizes me. I have burns and cuts; I have scars from his abuse and torture.’ I watched as his expression turned from confusion to outright horror. ‘I’m afraid,’ I admitted with a shuddering breath.