Her face returned to normal after hearing my tone. She stepped into the room and closed the door. I waited for her to flick the light switch and a second later, the room burst into reality. I winced as night became day in an instant. Seeing me, her demeanor altered, and she peered across the room in dismay.
“What happened to you?” she exclaimed, rushing to my side.
I slumped down on the lower bunk, and she seated herself next to me. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.” I hesitated before going on. This was my last chance to turn back. She wouldn’t believe me, but this time I had Frank to corroborate my story. He wasn’t my biggest fan, but he couldn’t deny seeing the attack, nor would he forget his father’s confession about his mother’s death. “It was Steve,” I admitted to the floor.
Her concern vanished, and her face contorted in anger. “Alex,” she chided, “you know he does everything he can to keep this family together. I know you don’t like him, but that doesn’t give you the right to accuse him of such a thing. Why can’t you just tell us who’s doing this? Steve and I are both concerned.”
“But it’s true,” I pleaded. “Go ask Frank. He saw it, and what’s worse, he heard what the drunk said afterward…”
“I’ll talk to him,” she interrupted. “But, this behavior has to end. If I do, will you promise to stop?”
I clenched my fist and stifled the frustration growing inside. “Fine, but you’ll see. I’m telling the truth.” She rose from the bed and headed for the door. “Wait, there’s something else, something really important.”
She stopped mid-step and turned to look at me. Taking another bite of her sandwich, she said, “This very important thing better not be another fib about your father.”
My pulse quickened. My father was dead and a much better man than Steve McCullin would ever be. “It’s not, because he ain’t my father,” I muttered. “But it could save your life, and you can ask Frank about this, too.”
She rolled her dark brown eyes, but humored me with a look. “Go on, I’m listening.”
“Do you know what happened to Helen, his ex-wife?”
“Yes, she ran off and left them.”
“I heard that story too, but it isn’t true. He said he killed her. He said something about not being able to afford Gloria, and so he killed Helen when she got in his way.”
Vivian snorted and almost choked on her food in a fit of laughter. “That’s a good one, Alex. You almost had me going.”
“But it’s true,” I whimpered. “Ask Frank.”
“I will, and you stop this silliness.”
Spinning back to the living room, she went in search of Frank. I followed on her heels. Something urged me forward, to hear my stepbrother’s answer. I watched from behind as she padded into the living room. The television murmured the news, its sound mingling with the drunk’s snores. Frank lay lengthwise across the couch and closed his eyes as though in prayer when Vivian waggled a finger toward the kitchen. His unshaven neck tried to hide a gulp of fear, but his Adams apple betrayed him. It slid beneath his skin like the weight of a cuckoo clock, adjusting itself for the day to come. Frank stood up, set his stress ball on the center table, and followed her into the next room.
I watched it unfold from the safety of the portrait-lined corridor. It was like a silent movie. They stepped into the yellow light of the kitchen and the short-stature woman whispered to him from an inch away. His eyes widened, and he gripped the edge of the countertop in both hands. She locked him in place with a stare that would halt a stampede, and he stuttered an answer. Unsatisfied, she prodded further, ramming an extended finger into his chest for emphasis. Under her intimidating gaze, he shook his head.
The betrayal wasn’t surprising, but it was still a blow. I should have expected it. After receiving her answer, Vivian glowered at me. I slunk back to my room, flicked off the lights, and smothered myself under the bed sheets. I stewed in my failure for hours before sleep caressed my eyelids.
The lights flared to life and the bedroom door slammed shut. The solid click of the lock turning warned me of my impending doom, but there wasn’t enough time to move. A balled fist slammed into my bare back, and my spine cracked aloud. The jolt sent me into the wall as I attempted to distance myself, but strong, youthful arms grabbed my shoulders and flung me out of the bunk. My legs caught in the blankets and my head hit the floor with a thud that resounded through the trailer. The impact forced the air from my lungs. While gasping for air, I noticed an ogre berating me from above. His booming voice was unlike the slender boy’s I knew, somehow detached.
“What the hell do you think you’re doin’?” Frank shouted.
“Y-y-you know exac-tly what,” I panted.
“You’re gonna tear this family apart, man.”
Taking hold of myself, I shouted back, “Me! You’re dad’s the one that tried to kill me. He even confessed to murdering your mom. And you’re too pansy to do anything but lie for him.” I pushed myself up and met him nose to nose.
“He didn’t do nothin’!” Flecks of spittle dotted Frank’s lips.
“You know he did. Quit denying it!” My blood pressure rose once more, and my pulse throbbed in my ears. He had always been a bully, and the one time I counted on it, he turned into a simpering puppy. “Why can’t you admit the truth?” I shouted, slamming my palms into his chest. It propelled him a few feet backward before he regained his footing. He stopped shouting and glared at me.
Just then, the bedroom door rumbled under someone’s pounding fists. Vivian’s muffled voice carried to us. I glanced her way, and Frank seized the moment. He punched me in the chin and sent stars into flight. His days of slacking hadn’t diminished his strength. I stumbled back a few steps.
“You know, I’ve taken all your dad can dish out. That one wasn’t bad, but you still have a ways to go. You’re on your way, though. Give it a few murders and I’m sure you’ll be worthy of his love.” I struck home with the offhanded remark. A guilty look similar to his father’s passed over him, then disappeared.
“You lying sack of…,” he screamed, but his words ended in a roar of agonizing hatred.
He came at me like a bull seeing red. His fists flew while elbows joined in on the attack. Having grown accustomed to the battle frenzy, I ducked a few punches and slapped away others, but he soon overcame me. The soreness in my shoulder throbbed with the exertion. Unable to continue the rapid hand movement, I grabbed his extended arm and dug my good hand into the inside of his bicep. The move forced him into the wall. Glass frames fell and shattered in the rooms beyond ours.
Vivian’s cries and attempts to get in increased, becoming the frantic beating of an African drummer. The deep baritone of the drunk overrode her, but his words were lost in the ruckus as we struggled back and forth across the room. I grabbed a handful of black hair and yanked him to the side, steering what had become a wrestling match. We tumbled to the floor. The carpet tore at my skin. We hit anything we could reach. Eventually, he encircled my head with his hands and jerked it back and forth like his father had done. After numerable blows on the floor, my head met something hard and jagged, and the lights winked out.
Reality Check - 16
A hallway of eternal darkness enveloped me while miles ahead, two miniature frames of light gleamed through the blackness like solitary angels in the heart of evil. They displayed an image, one reflecting the other, as though I were looking out of my eyes through a telescope. I watched Frank’s face through the small windows, contorted by madness. He straddled me and reached for something beyond my sight. His muted screams filtered down the hall, reverberating off the invisible walls. I willed my body to move, to fight back, but there was no response. I had to get out, to reach him before he killed me. I streaked toward the lights, pumping my legs, but the windows remained in the distance, evading me. I ran harder, fighting for air and gaining ground by inches. It crept closer. I willed myself on and refused to give in. My body screamed under the strain, but was it my
body? Was I even running?
When I closed on the portals of light, Frank paused in the image and peered down at me. His eyes surveyed the damage to my unmoving form. His bloody hand drifted in front of his face, and he stared at the red liquid running down his fingers. His eyebrows climbed in shock. The aching regret that appeared moments before now suffused his face in horror. He stumbled off me, tripping over my limp limbs and caught the wall with his bloody hand…
I crossed the threshold and back into startling reality. My senses rushed in. Every inch of my body ached under the fresh bruises, and a headache throbbed from ear to ear. It was all I could do to keep Frank in sight as he fumbled with the locked door. I could move, but anything more than turning my head sent me into nauseating spins. He threw the door open and shoved between Vivian and his father. They made no move to stop him. Vivian flew to my side and caressed my matted hair. Her words seeped through foggy senses with a mumbled prayer. She demanded that Steve get a towel. After a shameful glance at me, he plodded down the hall to the linen closet. Ages later, he returned with an abused towel that had seen better days. It was stained with grease and who knew what else, but might be clean. She snatched the towel and bundled it behind my head.
“We have to get him to a hospital.”
The drunk didn’t respond, but instead peered down at us like a perched crow awaiting its turn at the carcass. A minute later, he shook his head. “We don’t have insurance or the money. You know that.”
“But we have to. He’s my son!”
Her husband stared blankly at her. With a shrug he added, “He’ll be fine. Put some ice on it.” Having said his piece, he left the room.
Vivian turned her tear streaked face on me. “He’s right. Can you see me?”
I nodded and watched her tears flow like a broken faucet.
“Why’d you have to say those awful things about Steve and rile Frank up like that? You know he looks up to him like you look at Terry. What did you think would happen?”
Is she saying it was my fault, I wondered. Unable to let it go, I stammered, “I-it’s the truth.”
The faucet mended its leak the instant the words left my lips. “You’re still going to sit there and lie about him, after what Frank just did?”
“I ain’t lying.”
“I can’t believe you. You’re as stubborn as your father and dumber than an ox. What’s wrong with you?” she shrieked.
I flexed my arm. It moved as it should, but some areas were still tender. It was enough, though. I took hold of the towel, shoved her aside, and lurched to my feet. Nauseous, I wavered, but managed to steady myself. Once I felt more confident, I opened my eyes and stared down at Vivian. She watched with interest, still hovering a foot away.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded, ignored the remaining queasiness, and took a staggered breath. “Yeah.”
“I don’t get you,” she muttered with a shake of her head. “Why go through all this?”
The words should have infuriated me further, but instead echoed a question I’d asked myself for years. “I’ve been trying to figure that one out since we got here.”
Her brows furrowed. Then she nailed me with a scrutinizing gaze. Disgusted, I stepped around her, grabbed my wadded clothes from the floor, and walked out of the room. She followed down the hall, past the drunk who had resumed his earlier task of liquid consumption, and through the living room. Frank was nowhere to be seen and the drunk never took his eyes from the old television.
“Where do you think you’re going, Alex?” She asked before I reached the door.
“Way the hell away from here.”
Helpless to stop me, she sunk lower than ever before. “You know, your father’s right. You’re one ungrateful child. You deserve every ounce of that beating…”
I returned her haughty glare and stuffed a stiff leg into my jeans. Within seconds of opening her mouth what she’d said dawned on her, and her voice trailed into nothingness. Her face drooped as she tried to find the right words but failed. Her mouth opened and clicked shut. Speechless, she watched as I slipped into my sneakers and strode down the front steps.
The spring on the door slammed it closed behind me. I marched out of sight, refusing to look back, and donned my father’s shirt with an awkward twist of my arms. I distanced myself from my temporary housing as fast as I could. Walking through the old trailer park this late was like stepping into another world. The children were in bed, and the unsupervised teenagers and gangsters had control of the neighborhood. Groups of young men stared at me as though I had crossed into enemy territory. Their keen interest spoke volumes about what they were up to. Avoiding their gaze, I kept my eyes set on the stars seated above the tree line and strode out of the unsavory place.
A LIFE OF DEATH: 4
BY
WESTON KINCADE
- BOOKS of the DEAD -
Unrequited Love - 17
It wasn’t long before I found myself heading down streets I knew. It was odd that a cemetery would be so comforting. The line of oaks encircling it, met me at the wrought iron gate. It was always open. I wondered why it even existed, but the unanswered question soon flitted away. It wasn’t important. Removing the cloth from my head, I felt around the wound. The blood had congealed to my hair, and under the light of the street lamp, I saw a surprising amount on the towel. The cool air helped to clear my mind and I felt more refreshed than any time that day, although, every muscle ached.
I passed through the gate and dropped the towel into a large barrel before heading to my father’s grave. The moonlight illuminated the polished tombstones like gleaming shadows in the night. My seat under the old pine awaited me and I leaned into its large cradling trunk. The engraving beneath my father’s name stood out in the moonlight, but I recited it from memory:
In memory of a loving father taken too soon. We miss you, Terry, but will see you when we get home.
My mother helped me come up with the epitaph, back when she resembled that title. Since then, Vivian hadn’t done much to deserve the name.
I contemplated my world for hours and started to doze off when footsteps crunching in the brittle grass woke me. A familiar form stepped between my father and I. Paige looked down from reddened eyes, the edges of her mouth curved in worry. Across the graveyard, her father’s borrowed car sat under a streetlamp. Her face was illuminated by the moon’s gentle rays. Flowing curls cascaded around her, framing her oval face and porcelain skin. Dew glistened atop blades of dying grass and sparkled in the moonlight as though all of heaven had shed a tear, not just her.
“Hey there.” she whispered. Her voice soothed my nerves.
“Hey, how’d you find me?”
“Your mom called.”
“Oh…” I shifted under the pine’s drooping boughs.
“Believe it or not, she’s worried about you.”
“Yeah… I wonder about that at times.”
“Mind if I grab a spot?”
“Sure, pull up a seat. I’ve kind of worn this tree in if you’d like to join me.”
Paige ducked under the tree’s long arms and leaned into the old trunk. “Wow…,” she murmured, “this is comfy, and kind of beautiful.”
I nodded, glancing around at the silent headstones gleaming in the damp night. “I like it. It’s relaxing.”
“Where’s your dad?”
I pointed at the grave in front of me.
“Nice spot.”
“Yep…” The moment wore on in silence.
After a few minutes, she asked, “So, are you going to tell me what happened?”
An endless record of memories flew by my eyes like a movie trailer. I shrugged, trying not to be overwhelmed by the escalated events. “Everything you know about blew up tonight. The drunk confessed to murdering Helen after almost killing me. Frank took a turn at me for telling Vivian what his dad had said.”
“Whew… what did she say?”
“Not much, just that I was lying and deserved the b
eatings.”
“Jesus, Alex! You can’t be serious.”
“Why do you think I’m out here?”
Paige shook her head in disbelief, but knew it to be true. “So what are you going to do now?”
“I figured I’d just sit out here till things calmed down. I’ll get this worked out, but how… I don’t know.”
We stared at the world around us, lost in thought.
“If you need a little time away, you could come stay with me for a while. I’m sure my parents will let you have the couch, at least for a couple days.”
“Thanks, Paige,” I mumbled through the shadows, “but running away won’t help. As much as I want to, I can’t leave those girls alone with him. It’s enough that I left tonight. At least Vivian is there now. I don’t think he’ll do anything to them with her around, but I could be wrong.”
Voicing my fears made them seem more plausible. My concern soon encompassed more than the girls. What would he do to Vivian? No matter what she had done, it proved impossible to cast her out of my thoughts. Family was a strange thing.
Paige nodded. “What about Frank? Do you think he’d go after your mother to try and cover up the drunk’s confession?”
“Nah,” I whispered into the breeze rustling overhead. “He’s gone, at least for now.”
“Gone?”
“Yeah, gone. I saw something when he knocked me out. It was odd. I couldn’t do anything, but I could see what was happening. After a while, he saw the blood and freaked out. I think it was too much for him, because he took off like a bullet.”
“Blood?” she asked, peering at me. “Was it that bad?”
“Kind of…,” I answered. “He slammed my head into the dresser.”
“Oh my.” She gently probed my head with her fingers. I winced in anticipation of the pain, but it didn’t come. Her hands were soft and she caressed my hair with more tender fingers than my mother ever had. “Are you okay?”
A Life of Death: Episodes 1 - 4 Page 10
