Free Violence Begets... by Pt Denys, Myra Shelley Page B

to get it into
third,” he said excitedly.
    With a few more jerks the car lurched
forward but didn’t stall out.
    “Look Jas, I’m driving! Look, I can
do it!”
    “Look at you, fourteen and already driving.
Dad didn’t teach me until I was almost sixteen. You’ll be giving Emma rides in no
time. See, all you have to do is believe in yourself and you can do anything.” He
started to laugh with excitement as he patted me on the back. “Way to go little
bro…”
    “I figured I’d find you here.” A voice
cut into my memories, and I startled with surprise to see Kevin walking in. I turned
away from him and roughly wiped the tears from my face.
    “Why are you here? Did you forget something?”
I said, pretending I was busy picking something up off the ground so he couldn’t
see my face.
    “Nope, I figured you’d be here.” I glanced
up at him and he smirked, obviously noticing my tears.
    “And?”
    “And, I didn’t want to go home either.
What’s it to you?” He sat heavily in his spot and pulled out a pack of smokes. “Do
you have a problem with me being here?”
    “Guess not,” I said, backing down.
    “Here, you want one?” he said, offering
the smokes.
    “Sure.” As I reached for the cigarette
I nearly fell off the log I was sitting on. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d
had to drink.
    “You had a few too many?” Kevin mocked.
    “I’m fine,” I said, lighting up. We
both took a few drags, and I was left wondering what he wanted. I didn’t know if
I’d ever get used to being alone with him; it always seemed to be so tense.
    “So why’d you guys move here?” he finally
said. I glanced at him uneasily. I thought we’d been over this.
    “Sylvia’s job,” I replied simply.
    “And?” he asked raising his eyebrows
slightly. He was pushing and I knew I’d have to give him more than the line about
Sylvia’s job at the hospital. There were several moments of silence. I hoped he’d
give up and change the subject, but I shouldn’t have been surprised when he didn’t.
For whatever reason, he had decided he wanted to know, which meant I was going to
have to tell him something. I couldn’t bear the thought of telling him about Jason.
    “My mom’s dead,” I finally said. This
had nothing to do with why we had moved, but I had to give him something. I took
another swig of alcohol and took a few drags of the smoke. He was waiting for me
to go on. “She died when I was born.” I was surprised when tears came to my eyes.
I didn’t often cry for her; it had been so long ago. I took several deep breaths
and focused in on a broken two-by-four at my feet. “We moved here because of Sylvia
but also to get out of California. There were a lot of memories in our house, and
Sylvia didn’t love competing with a dead woman for my dad’s affection.” I tried
not to look at him, afraid he’d see I was lying. But hopefully the small truth about
leaving town because of the memories of a dead loved one would hold true enough
for him to buy it. I kept my focus on the broken board. He waited quietly. “She’s
dead because of me,” I added, an additional truth. I had the blood of two family
members on my hands. No wonder my dad hated me. I hated myself. There it was. He
knew about one death, the only one he’d ever know about. He could do with it whatever
he wanted.
    “That sucks,” he said gently.
    I couldn’t help but look at him. I searched
for a sign of sarcasm or mockery in his face, but he either hid it well or it wasn’t
there. After several moments he reached for the bottle of alcohol.
    “My mom’s not around either.”
    “Really? Where is she?”
    “Not important.” He took several swigs.
“So, does anyone have any idea yet what your dad’s doing to you?”
    “No. God no! Just you. Not sure how
long I’ll be able to keep it from Emma, though.” He nodded his head. It made me
even more uneasy as the time passed and he didn’t say anything mean or condescending.
    “So