Violence Begets... by Pt Denys, Myra Shelley

again, his screams fading as I took off.
    He was right, but to hear those words
out loud was too much. I went to the only place I could think of—Zarahemla. I didn’t
expect anyone to be there and was glad to find the place empty. I found a pack of
smokes and lit up. Dang, it was cold. I hated this city and the stupid winter, I
hated not having Jason around, and I hated that my dad was right.
    I threw my fist into a wall and the
rotted wood broke easily under my anger. My knuckles cracked a little and burned
as tiny slivers of pain traveled up my arm. I looked for anything I could find to
break or throw, trashing whatever I could get my hands on. I picked up a large board,
and as I hurled it against the wall I lost my balance and fell. Too exhausted to
stand back up, the emotion behind my anger washed over me. I knew he was right.
It was my fault. I had killed him.
    Kevin
    Not a lot escaped me. I found Rick’s
tirade at Zarahemla fascinating. I’d ducked out the back when I heard someone coming.
He was not quiet. This guy had some serious shit going on to freak the fuck out
like he did. As I observed his breakdown, it made me all that much more curious
about his story. None of the others had been nearly as interesting.
    It was kinda hot seeing his anger explode.
He was usually so collected. I scoffed at the idea of giving him the time of day,
but pure testosterone always turned me on. Even more, I now had excellent ammo that
would serve my needs perfectly. If I could only pinpoint his weakness, this would
be the fuel I needed to keep him in line.
    As I pulled my coat tight against me,
I thought of him with no coat, throwing his fist through the wall. I almost whistled
on my way home; he was going to be fun to break.
    I was impressed the next day at school
when I asked about his cut-up hand. He admitted without hesitation that he'd thrown
it through a wall. When Mike asked why, he casually said because he felt like it.
He was almost as good as me at hiding his shit. The only difference was that I could
tell there was shit he was hiding, but no one had any clue about my life.
    When the night of my party finally came,
I had the guys over a bit early. My father was headed out of town, and I wanted
him to see just the five of us. I'd let them know none of them better smell anything
like smoke when they walked in or I’d kick their ass.
    “You boy’s going to watch some movies
or something tonight?” he asked us.
    “Yes, sticking close to home.” I played
the part of the good son well; after all, it was what he expected of me.
    “Come on. A bunch of juniors? Don’t
you want to have some girls over?” He was goading us, trying to play cool and find
out what my plans were. I knew he hated me having friends over, but I also knew
that his desire to be perceived as a ‘cool’ dad made him grant me this small freedom.
    “I know the rules. No girls when you’re
out of town and friends gone by ten,” I replied automatically.
    “Good. What are you watching?”
    I nodded to Mike, who had picked up
the movies. He quickly recited the titles. I knew exactly what my father would want
to know.
    “Don’t make a mess now,” he said with
a smile. “I don’t want to come home and find popcorn everywhere.”
    “No, sir, we won’t,” Brett replied.
    After he left, Brett commented on how
awesome my father was.
    “He’s okay,” I mumbled.
    Granted, I was throwing a party, but
I wasn’t stupid enough to throw a party at my own house. I knew damn well my father
would have the neighbors on strict lookout for any suspicious behavior. As soon
as he left, I picked up the house phone and forwarded it to my personal cell, just
in case he called while we were gone. Then, leaving the lights on and the TV going,
we quickly slipped out the side door and headed to Kari’s, which happened to be
kitty-corner to Rick’s house.
    People started showing up around  eight
o’clock.. I had a reputation for good parties, but people also knew I