I remembered something.
It came to me in the form of a dream and replayed over and over until the morning light hit my eyes. I saw two small boys out playing in a playground, nearly identical. One of them—the youngest—climbed the ladder leading to a long slide fixed with twists and turns. Pure excitement shone in his blue eyes as he looked down at his brother and called, look at me!
And he did. His brother had a proud look on his face as he watched him go down the slide, trapped in a giggle fit. Things soon went wrong; the boy didn’t land properly and fell into the dirt. He sat silent for only a second before he started to cry, his knees damaged with dirt and blood.
His brother didn’t help him. Instead, he grabbed a fist full of dirt and threw it at his face, yelling, boys don’t cry, stupid.
I wanted to believe that it was another ludicrous dream, like the ones you have that leave you confused as hell when you wake up. But I wasn’t confused; I knew that the dream wasn’t a dream. I knew that my mind was fighting to go back in time, even though I willed for it to stay in the present.
No use remembering things like that, I told myself. Forget it. Forget, forget, forget—
The grandfather clock downstairs blared and shook me out of my skin, eight whole dings filling my ears. To be honest, I didn’t feel too far off from the clock. I knew I was going out of my mind, and the only way to keep me grounded was keeping track of the time.
...or maybe I had already lost it.
Damn.
It took twenty minutes for me to finally get out of bed and go into the bathroom. I brushed my teeth with a heavy heart. Four minutes later, my feet were muted against the old staircase as I went downstairs. No one was in the living room, but the basement door was open.
For two minutes, I stared.
I started hoping that Keenan would show up out of the blue like he usually did and save me from myself. Staring at that door caused me to start thinking things. For me, thinking never led to any good. Thinking led me to stay in that god forsaken house. Thinking led me to believe I would be alright if I jumped out of a moving vehicle.
Thinking led me to believe I would get out again.
“Morning, Jack.”
Keenan didn’t look a thing like Jesus, but when he entered the room I started to believe that he could walk on water. His lips pulled up in an award winning smile as he leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. His skin wasn’t glowing like before, but it felt like I was looking at the star of Bethlehem or something.
I hated it.
Keenan whistled at me, calling me over like a goddamn dog. Don’t go over there, I told myself. I’ll kill you if you go over there. But I was a superlative liar. I trudged on towards the kitchen, following Keenan in like a child in trouble. He stopped beside a stack of pancakes sitting on the countertop, gesturing towards them.
“Eat,” he said. “You look terrible.”
I couldn’t bring myself to do anything; much less swallow food. So instead, I shook my head and muttered, “I don’t like pancakes.”
Keenan stared at me more than he should have.
“The woman is fine, Jack. Just eat and stop worrying about her.”
“Don’t start that conversation,” I barked at him, my voice sharp. Keenan didn’t even blink. His lips were set in a tight line and his eyes were cross, as if he had the right to be angry and I didn’t.
What a bastard, I thought.
He was in front of me in less than a second, honey brown eyes blazing with anger as if he had heard every word. His body was on edge, containing something I couldn’t quite grasp. I began to back away from him, but with each step I took, Keenan took two more towards me. Soon enough, I had my back pressed against the fridge, trapped. Keenan didn’t even give me an inch to breathe.
“What did you call me?” he seethed, his breath hot against my face.
“I didn’t say anything!”
He wasn’t buying it. His arm shot out from his side and pressed against my chest; right where my lungs were. He added his weight on it, making me gasp for air like a fish out of water.
“You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” Keenan told me, his voice even. “You must have been confused; I’m not a nice guy. Just be a good boy and do as you’re told, alright? Learn your place, Jack.”
He started to ease off a bit. I knew I should have pushed him away or something; I had the strength to do so. But truthfully, I wanted to stay pressed against him forever. My cheeks heated like an element on the stove at such lustful thinking. Don’t even look at me like that. I’m here for a reason.
Anyway, Keenan studied my face long and hard. I willed myself to let go of all the thoughts flooding my mind, but they wouldn’t quit. They came one by one, each scene playing out like a goddamn movie. Keenan’s eyes went wide, his anger slowly replaced by utter shock and embarrassment. My cheeks felt like fire; for a moment, it seemed like he could see what was going on in my head.
“Get away from me."
“Are you still mad at me for yesterday, Jack?”
“I am.”
I speak in such a way that honestly deceives. I’m a darn good liar, if you haven’t noticed, but I couldn’t fool Keenan. I knew that I never could, no matter how much I busted my ass to.
Keenan lifted my chin with his finger, anger fading. I knew that I still wasn’t in the clear, but I couldn’t help feeling suddenly relieved. I should've known that moments like those never last, though.
And ours came tumbling down faster than lightning.
It started with the first scream, one that made me jump out of my skin with terror. It was followed by a series of wet coughs and gagging, as if someone was choking. It soon regressed into silence again.
I didn’t even have to ask Keenan what it was. He knew it too. “Don’t listen to it, Jack,” he told me. “Don’t listen to it or else you’ll—”
He was cut off by a shaky pull of breath and another loud scream. She began to cry, begging to be let free.
“Get off me! Get off me!”
I tried to tune her out as much as I could. Keenan looked down at the floor, his hands at his sides.
“No! Let me live! Please, let me live.”
I felt like I was losing consciousness.
“Don’t—” Slap. “Please, what have I done?!”
I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t even going to try. I pushed Keenan away from me and turned to the sink, blowing chunks down the drain. Spit mixed with whatever I had eaten the afternoon before splattered against the stainless steel and dribbled down my chin, specked with blood.
I could have died from all the embarrassment. It was worse when I felt Keenan’s hand on my back, rubbing it in small circles. I wanted to stop, I really did. But the more she screamed, the more I spat out whatever I had in my stomach. The acidic taste turned into the bittersweet flavour of pure blood, the smell of rusted pennies filling my nose.
"I knew something like this would happen," Keenan muttered, his voice incomprehensible against the cries coming from the basement. "You swallowed too much blood last night..." My brain automatically tuned him out. I couldn’t deal with him. I couldn’t deal with anything that was happening.
Calling me weak would be an understatement.
I lifted my head, my vision blurring, and wiped my lips. There was chunky blood all over the sink, all over my hands, all over me. My breathing was short and quick as distant screams filled my ears. Keenan was holding me, but I didn’t pay any attention to him. My body already began to sway, missing the blood it had lost.
I looked over to the back door and started counting the minutes again. One minute and you’d be at the door. Two minutes for them to catch you. Seven minutes of beatings. It’ll take three minutes for you to feel nothing again.
Thirteen minutes and you’ll be dead.
I took a step to freedom, but it was too late. I heard the basement door shut, the lock click, and the bookcase screech against the hardwood floor. I heard his footsteps, steady, coming closer as each second ticked by.
Then, I heard his voice.
“You okay, Jack?”
I lost it. I grabbed the pancakes I never ate and hurled it at him. Cillian didn’t even try to dodge it; he let the plate smack his face, the food exploding into bits and pieces.
I didn’t stop there. I grabbed anything I could get my hands on; plates, forks, and knives glinted in the dim florescent lighting as I threw them one by one, hoping at least one of them would cause him to drop dead.
But they never did, and it only made me angrier.
“Are you done?” Cillian asked with a tired voice. He didn’t look so hot either; his skin was pale and he had bags under his eyes. I nearly laughed despite myself. Even the devil can’t sleep, I thought.
I didn’t have any sympathy for him, though. I walked over to him like a titan, balled my fist, and crashed it against his face. Cillian took the punch as if a small dog had nicked his skin. Before I knew it, we were on the floor and I was pounding his head in like he did just hours ago. I wanted him to feel what I felt, to hear the words I wanted to say without having to speak them. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to cry. I would have killed him if I could’ve.
I wanted to. I really did.
When the anger began to fade away and my fists started hurting, I rolled off of him. I stood to my feet, panting like the Hulk. Cillian stayed on the floor; he sat up slightly to spit out the blood that wrapped around his tongue and teeth before he sighed.
“I never knew you had it in you. I’m sort of proud.”
I wished I could have cut that smile off of his face, but I held back. I wiped away the sweat forming at my brow and stared at him until my eyes burned. It was at that moment that I finally saw the resemblance we had; the lopsided smile, the straight nose that went on for miles, and the heavy set of dark brown hair.
Boys don’t cry, stupid.
“Why’d you do it?” I wailed, nearly falling to the ground if Keenan hadn’t caught me. “We could have had the old days back. We could have been happy!”
“The old man is gone now, Jack. This family is mine now to hold, keep, and protect. I’ll bleed for it, I’ll murder for it, and I’ll avenge it. That woman isn’t the saint you see. She’s the reason Ma’s just an empty carcass. She’s the reason Dad took a fist to your face every fucking day. I’ll make her pay for it, Jack. I’ll make her pay so Ma can finally rest. I’ll do whatever I need to do without fluttering a goddamn eyelid. You hear me?”
Our mother wasn’t something I wanted to discuss with someone like Cillian. I’d bet a thousand bucks that she was rolling in her grave just watching how her son turned out. Maybe he had been a prized son, something I’d never be. But that little boy was gone now. All I saw was a monster.
But I didn’t say anything else. I didn’t even try escaping again. I allowed Keenan to help him to his feet and grab a dish rag to hold against his busted lip before he bled himself dry. I turned away from them, walked up the stairs, and slammed my door shut.
I made a decision. I promised myself that I was never going to turn into something like him. I wasn’t going to hurt anybody anymore. I didn’t care if Cillian beat me up until my heart burst; I’d take it all to save another life.
I promised to save her.
But I was a first class liar; so good that I even fooled myself.