The Coincidence of Callie and Kayden(15)

He rounded to the back of the bike, squatting down to check the tires. “Yeah, buddy, I will.”

I pushed the throttle, pretending to drive away, and for a second I saw the possibility of a life without pain. “You promise?”

He nodded as he messed with the air pressure gauge. “Yeah, I promise.”

It turned out my brother was a liar just like everyone else in the house. He ended up moving out, and leaving me behind because he’d rather be drunk then deal with life. A few years later, my other brother, Dylan, graduated and moved out of the house. He changed his number, never told anyone where he was going, and no one has heard from him since, although I’m not sure how hard anyone looked.

I was twelve at the time and the only kid left in the house, which meant I was the main focus of my dad’s rage, something he made clear to me the night Dylan packed his shit and left. The beatings before that weren’t too severe; slaps across the face, lashings with his belt, and sometimes he would punch us or kick us, but would hold back just enough that it hurt like hell but could be hidden.

I watched Dylan pull away from the driveway and drive down the road into the dark, pressing my face to the window, wishing I were in the car with him, even though Dylan and I had never been close. My dad walked in from outside, bringing in the cold night air with him. He’d yelled at Dylan all the way to the car, telling him he was a f*cking moron for giving up his football scholarship and refusing to be on the team.

“What the f*ck are you looking at?” He slammed the front door so hard the family portrait above the mantle fell to the floor.

I turned around on the couch and sat down, staring at the portrait on the floor. “Nothing sir.”

He stalked toward me, his pupils swallowing his eyes, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath from clear across the room. He was bigger than me, stronger than me, and he had a look on his face that let me know he was about to use it to his full advantage and there was nothing I could do about it.

I knew the drill. Get up and hide, otherwise he wouldn’t have time to cool off. But I couldn’t move. I kept thinking about my brothers who were gone and had left me behind like an old t-shirt. We used to be in this together, now it was just me. I started to cry, like a stupid f*cking baby, and I knew it was only going to piss him off more.

“Are you crying? What the f*ck is wrong with you?” He didn’t slow his momentum as he raised his fist and slammed it into my shoulder.

The pain that spread up my neck and down my arm sucked my oxygen out in one swift snap of a finger and I crumpled to the floor, blinking the black spots away from my eyes.

“Get up!” He kicked me in the side, but I couldn’t get up. My legs had given up on me and with each slam of his shoe, something died inside. I didn’t even bother tucking my legs in to protect them. I just let the pain take over, allowing it to numb the pain of being left behind. “You’re so useless! At least your brothers fight back. But what are you? Nothing! It’s all your fault!” Another kick, this time against my gut and the pain shot up into my head.

“Get up! Get up. Get up…” His boot slammed into my gut and his voice took on pleading. As if it was all my fault and he wanted me to make it stop. And maybe it was my fault. All I had to do was get up. But even something so simple I couldn’t get right.

It was the worst beating I ever had, like he had channeled all his frustration with my brothers and directed it all on me. My mom kept me out of school for two weeks while I healed, telling the school, family, friends, neighbors—anyone who asked that I had strep throat and was highly contagious.

I lay in bed almost the entire time, feeling my body heal, but my mind and will to live died, knowing it would never get better, that this was it for me.

I blink the thought away as I sit down on the floor and lift up my shirt. I vowed when I went to college that I’d give it up—stop the f*cking habit. But I guess it owns me more than I thought.
***
The next day in Biology I’m trying to hold as still as possible to keep the pain on my stomach contained, but I keep glancing behind me at Callie, who seems oblivious that I’m turning into a stalker.

Professor Fremont takes his sweet time wrapping up his lecture. By the time I make it into the hall, it’s crammed with people. I’m blocking the doorway, trying to determine whether I want to skip my next class or not, when someone slams into my back.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry,” Callie apologizes, backing away from me like I’m a criminal. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”