New To The Feeling
His History
I stood silent, watching this tough man crouched in front of me. The cemetery was beautiful in a creepy sort of way. Weeping willows swayed in the light breeze. They seemed appropriate for the time being. Flowers lined the gates. Scattered flowers and flags were placed strategically on other graves. I watched a couple stroll through the grass and stop at a head stone. The woman kneeled down and place a single rose on the site and stood again. The man wrapped his arms around her as she hung her head in what seemed to be prayer.
I looked back down at Wylie. His breathing had become calm and he had dropped the bag of ice he once held over his eye. His hands were shaking as he traced the letters on the headstone. They read:
"Laura Kurns
1962-1997
Loved Mother, Wonderful Friend"
All of a sudden it clicked. This was his mother.
Wylie stood and faced me, wiping his eyes. He fluffed himself up and maintained composure. His eyes were no longer the beautiful green I recognized. He was pail and his eyes had become a steel grey, much like his mother's head stone. He swallowed hard and nudged past me. I turned and followed... completely silent.
We walked out of the cemetery and to my beat up car. I unlocked the doors and we both climbed in. I looked at him, trying to understand something that seemed so foreign to me.
"What can I do?" I asked and then wondered whether I had said anything or not. When he responded I knew he had heard me.
"Nothing." He slumped in the seat.
"I don't believe you." I paused to catch my breath and prepare myself for what I was about to say. "Everyone needs help sometimes, Wylie. You said it yourself. You have feelings. You do. And I see that. If you need my help why don't you just ask. I mean, you don't have to ask for help, but I'm willing to talk. Do you wanna talk?"
We sat in silence for a moment and I was about ready to leave and drive him home. I looked at him again. The dark bruise around his eye had become even darker and looked extremely painful. His lip had crusted over with blood and was no longer bleeding. This was the first time I noticed that his fists were black and blue also. He blinked hard, and looked at me.
"If I tell you this, will you promise not to repeat it to anyone?" He caught me off guard.
"Yes" I responded.
Wylie sighed deeply. I feared what he would say, but I knew I had to listen.
"My mother and my father were the greatest parents in the word. I remember them being so happy and so excited about everything. It was so 1950's. My father died when I was 7. I only remember little bits of him. Everyday after school we went on a walk. We visited the neighbors, we talked, we raced. After he died, I wasn't devastated because I don't think I really understood. My mom met this guy Garett. He was cool. A lot like my father. They were married when I turned 10. Three years after my father's death. Things were good then too. My mom did well. She really loved this guy and she was moving on. She had me still too. So things were ok. But when I turned 11..."
Wylie trailed off. He wiped his eyes again. He took a deep breath and started again.
"A month and a half after my 11th birthday my mom went on a trip with some of her friends. It was Vegas or something like that. I don't really remember. On the way home, they got a flat. Luckily it was close to a gas station and they could have it repaired. My mom told the other women she was going to call home, so she could let us know she was ok. I still remember the conversation. she said 'Hi sweetie. How's it been without me?' I told her I was fine. I told her she could go have fun whenever she wanted and that I would be ok."
Wylie began to sniffle. He rubbed his eyes again, trying not to push too hard on his left eye.
"She said 'I love you, baby. I'll see you soon. Be good for daddy.' When my mom said daddy, she didn't mean Garett. She meant my father. She always said it. I was always supposed to be good for daddy. I always was. The next day, when she was supposed be home, we got another phone call. The police had found her three and a half miles from the gas station. Someone had raped her, stabbed her and stuffed her in a bag on the side of the road. A drifter found her body. They tested the drifter to see if he was the one who did it, but nothing pointed to him. They never found the bastard who did it. The women my mother was with don't know what happened. All they knew is that she didn't come back from the phone booth she called home from..."
Wylie began to cry freely, but he somehow managed to continue.
"My mother's funeral was a few days later. She wasn’t stabbed too badly, so that they could have an open coffin. I walked up to the front, placed a rose on her chest, along with my father's wedding ring. I still remember telling her 'Say hi to daddy for me.' My stepfather Garett took full custody of me. Within the following months he became violent. He has a daughter that he treats like royalty. But he takes his anger out on me daily. Not usually this bad. He's been beating me since then. I've just recently been able to fight back. I think he would've killed me today."
Wylie stopped suddenly. I was shocked. I was crying, which I didn't realize I was doing until I wiped my eyes. I reached over and grabbed his hand. Wylie began to cry again, harder. He slid over on the seat, wrapped his arms around me and buried his head in my shoulder. I didn't move. I knew he needed someone to hold him, and I wasn't about to deprive him of that.
He cried for almost ten minutes. He finally straightened up.
"Where to?" I asked.
"Not home." It was simple and straightforward. I pulled away from the cemetery without a clue of what I was going to do next.
Chapter 6 - The Fight
I drove. I don't know where, I don't know how. But I did. He sat in the seat next to me watching the road, not blinking.
"Wylie, where am I going?" I asked, frustrated with the situation.
"I don't…" Wylie began to scream profanity after profanity. I was in shock. I pulled the car over into a parking lot, shut it off, pulled out the keys, forcefully opened the door and stormed over to the passenger door frantically thrusting it open. I don't know how I did it, but I pulled Wylie out of the car by his shirt and pushed him onto the curb where he tripped and fell.
"Wylie, you've gotta stop. Where are we going? Because if you ever pull something like that around me ever again, you will never see the light of day again."
Wylie sat and stared at me. His mouth was pierced together tightly and his eyes wide with rage. He jumped up and walked menacingly toward me. He stopped inches from my face, raised his hand.... I flinched.
But no strike. No blow. I opened my eyes and Wylie was walking away.
"WYLIE!" I screamed." How dare you?"
"What? Did you think I would hit you after I just got beat? DO YOU HONESTLY THINK I WOULD DO THAT?"
I didn't know. I didn’t know what to say. He walked away. He walked toward the street.
Tears fell from my eyes, but I didn't know why. My whole body was shaking. I didn't know why. A car drove up behind me and the driver got out.
"Skylar?"
I turned quickly to see a comforting face.
"Jake!" I was ecstatic to see someone whom I knew would never abandon me.
"Skylar, what happened?"
"Wylie's father and his mother and..." I couldn't finish my sentence. I began to sob.
"C'mon, get in my car, you can come over to my house, we'll get your car later." Jake wrapped his arms around me tightly. He kissed me on the forehead.
"How did you know where I was?"
"I didn't trust him. I followed you."
I smiled through tears. He hugged me again and I felt safe for the first time in several hours.
I looked back down at Wylie. His breathing had become calm and he had dropped the bag of ice he once held over his eye. His hands were shaking as he traced the letters on the headstone. They read:
"Laura Kurns
1962-1997
Loved Mother, Wonderful Friend"
All of a sudden it clicked. This was his mother.
Wylie stood and faced me, wiping his eyes. He fluffed himself up and maintained composure. His eyes were no longer the beautiful green I recognized. He was pail and his eyes had become a steel grey, much like his mother's head stone. He swallowed hard and nudged past me. I turned and followed... completely silent.
We walked out of the cemetery and to my beat up car. I unlocked the doors and we both climbed in. I looked at him, trying to understand something that seemed so foreign to me.
"What can I do?" I asked and then wondered whether I had said anything or not. When he responded I knew he had heard me.
"Nothing." He slumped in the seat.
"I don't believe you." I paused to catch my breath and prepare myself for what I was about to say. "Everyone needs help sometimes, Wylie. You said it yourself. You have feelings. You do. And I see that. If you need my help why don't you just ask. I mean, you don't have to ask for help, but I'm willing to talk. Do you wanna talk?"
We sat in silence for a moment and I was about ready to leave and drive him home. I looked at him again. The dark bruise around his eye had become even darker and looked extremely painful. His lip had crusted over with blood and was no longer bleeding. This was the first time I noticed that his fists were black and blue also. He blinked hard, and looked at me.
"If I tell you this, will you promise not to repeat it to anyone?" He caught me off guard.
"Yes" I responded.
Wylie sighed deeply. I feared what he would say, but I knew I had to listen.
"My mother and my father were the greatest parents in the word. I remember them being so happy and so excited about everything. It was so 1950's. My father died when I was 7. I only remember little bits of him. Everyday after school we went on a walk. We visited the neighbors, we talked, we raced. After he died, I wasn't devastated because I don't think I really understood. My mom met this guy Garett. He was cool. A lot like my father. They were married when I turned 10. Three years after my father's death. Things were good then too. My mom did well. She really loved this guy and she was moving on. She had me still too. So things were ok. But when I turned 11..."
Wylie trailed off. He wiped his eyes again. He took a deep breath and started again.
"A month and a half after my 11th birthday my mom went on a trip with some of her friends. It was Vegas or something like that. I don't really remember. On the way home, they got a flat. Luckily it was close to a gas station and they could have it repaired. My mom told the other women she was going to call home, so she could let us know she was ok. I still remember the conversation. she said 'Hi sweetie. How's it been without me?' I told her I was fine. I told her she could go have fun whenever she wanted and that I would be ok."
Wylie began to sniffle. He rubbed his eyes again, trying not to push too hard on his left eye.
"She said 'I love you, baby. I'll see you soon. Be good for daddy.' When my mom said daddy, she didn't mean Garett. She meant my father. She always said it. I was always supposed to be good for daddy. I always was. The next day, when she was supposed be home, we got another phone call. The police had found her three and a half miles from the gas station. Someone had raped her, stabbed her and stuffed her in a bag on the side of the road. A drifter found her body. They tested the drifter to see if he was the one who did it, but nothing pointed to him. They never found the bastard who did it. The women my mother was with don't know what happened. All they knew is that she didn't come back from the phone booth she called home from..."
Wylie began to cry freely, but he somehow managed to continue.
"My mother's funeral was a few days later. She wasn’t stabbed too badly, so that they could have an open coffin. I walked up to the front, placed a rose on her chest, along with my father's wedding ring. I still remember telling her 'Say hi to daddy for me.' My stepfather Garett took full custody of me. Within the following months he became violent. He has a daughter that he treats like royalty. But he takes his anger out on me daily. Not usually this bad. He's been beating me since then. I've just recently been able to fight back. I think he would've killed me today."
Wylie stopped suddenly. I was shocked. I was crying, which I didn't realize I was doing until I wiped my eyes. I reached over and grabbed his hand. Wylie began to cry again, harder. He slid over on the seat, wrapped his arms around me and buried his head in my shoulder. I didn't move. I knew he needed someone to hold him, and I wasn't about to deprive him of that.
He cried for almost ten minutes. He finally straightened up.
"Where to?" I asked.
"Not home." It was simple and straightforward. I pulled away from the cemetery without a clue of what I was going to do next.
Chapter 6 - The Fight
I drove. I don't know where, I don't know how. But I did. He sat in the seat next to me watching the road, not blinking.
"Wylie, where am I going?" I asked, frustrated with the situation.
"I don't…" Wylie began to scream profanity after profanity. I was in shock. I pulled the car over into a parking lot, shut it off, pulled out the keys, forcefully opened the door and stormed over to the passenger door frantically thrusting it open. I don't know how I did it, but I pulled Wylie out of the car by his shirt and pushed him onto the curb where he tripped and fell.
"Wylie, you've gotta stop. Where are we going? Because if you ever pull something like that around me ever again, you will never see the light of day again."
Wylie sat and stared at me. His mouth was pierced together tightly and his eyes wide with rage. He jumped up and walked menacingly toward me. He stopped inches from my face, raised his hand.... I flinched.
But no strike. No blow. I opened my eyes and Wylie was walking away.
"WYLIE!" I screamed." How dare you?"
"What? Did you think I would hit you after I just got beat? DO YOU HONESTLY THINK I WOULD DO THAT?"
I didn't know. I didn’t know what to say. He walked away. He walked toward the street.
Tears fell from my eyes, but I didn't know why. My whole body was shaking. I didn't know why. A car drove up behind me and the driver got out.
"Skylar?"
I turned quickly to see a comforting face.
"Jake!" I was ecstatic to see someone whom I knew would never abandon me.
"Skylar, what happened?"
"Wylie's father and his mother and..." I couldn't finish my sentence. I began to sob.
"C'mon, get in my car, you can come over to my house, we'll get your car later." Jake wrapped his arms around me tightly. He kissed me on the forehead.
"How did you know where I was?"
"I didn't trust him. I followed you."
I smiled through tears. He hugged me again and I felt safe for the first time in several hours.