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

to play this. Get rid of it.”
    There was no way I was going to get
rid of it but still didn’t trust my words.
    “Did you hear me? I said get rid of
it,” he nodded towards the case as if he expected me to pick it up and throw it
out myself.
    “No.” I took a deep breath.
    “Excuse me?” he asked quietly.
    “I’m not playing anymore, but I’m not
getting rid of it.”
    “It’s a distraction. I won’t have you
out there wasting time and money on some childish dream to be a rock star. If you
won’t get rid of it, I will.” As he reached for it, I lunged and grabbed it.
    “It reminds me of him,” I said without
thinking.
    “Of who? Of him? Oh no, he had nothing
to do with this.”
    “Yeah, he did. He believed in me. I
don’t care what you say. Jason loved me. He gave this to me, and it’s all I have
left of him.”
    “I told you never to say his name to
me.”
    I ignored him, wanting to hurt him like
I was hurting. “He always helped me hide it from you. I may not play now, but one
day I will, and I won’t let you take that from me.”
    “What do you mean he helped you?”
    “I mean he helped me get to guitar lessons,
and he hid my guitar in his room.”
    “Liar! He did not. Stop talking about
him that way.”
    “Jason loved me and supported me, and
he lied to you to protect me.”
    “He’d never lie to me!” he screamed.
    “It was all his idea to keep it hidden
from you. Yeah, your poster-child of a son came up with the idea to lie to you to
help me. He chose me over you.”
    “The hell he did!” he yelled.
    “He
loved me—”
     “You just don’t get it, do you?” he
screamed at me. “It should’ve been you!” He took several steps towards me, and panic
screamed at me to run, but he was too quick. The back of his fist slammed against
my face, and I stumbled, falling into the Christmas tree. Pain spiraled from the
point of contact, and my vision swirled as the tree crashed to the floor. I tried
to scramble away from him, but got tangled in the tree limbs and lights. I felt
the glass of an ornament slice into my hand as I crushed it into the carpet. My
stomach tightened in knots as he reached for me and yanked me to a standing position,
instantly ripping me from the prison of the tree.
    Struggling to get away from him, I somehow
managed to fight my way out of his grasp and ran towards the stairs. I made it halfway
up before he caught up to me, and I felt the carpet burn my knees as we crashed
to the floor. I was able to kick free and half crawled, half ran the rest of the
way to my room. He was right behind me and pushed me just as I tried to shut the
door. His fists were flying at my face as I stumbled into my room. I saw blood fly
from my mouth and was fixated as it spotted my carpet, but I lost my focus when
his knuckles caught under my chin, cranking my neck backwards.
    I landed hard on my back and rolled
over to my side, curling into a ball and covering my head as he slammed his dress
shoe into my stomach. I watched as the tiny white scuffmarks flew towards my face.
Then I felt his foot crack something in my body from behind and I wondered briefly
how I’d ended up facing the other direction. At one point, I caught a glimpse of
him and couldn’t understand why he had tears falling wildly from his eyes. I thought
I’d see anger or hate, but devastation just didn’t fit with the pain my body was
feeling at his hands.
    He took several steps back when he saw
me looking at him, then turned and ran from my room. I heard him leave the house,
and I stared blankly at the door. The room spun around me. I could taste the blood
running from my nose and the bleeding from at least one cut in my mouth. I tried
to focus my eyes, but everything was so blurry from my tears that it made me sick
to try. I wondered when I’d started crying. Hearing something behind me, I braced
myself for another assault.
    “Saint Ricky?” I heard a familiar voice.
“What happened?”
    It was Kevin. This is so