Kennedy
“You’re a really stupid girl, you know that?” Mr. Black sneers. He grabs my bicep, squeezing and yanking me through the doorway.
I stumble over the threshold, and his tight hold keeps me from falling to the old, ripped carpet.
“Where are we?” I beg, pulling myself free from him.
He doesn’t stop me, doesn’t budge an inch. He knows I have a reason to stay, and there is not one single thing on this very Earth that will make me walk out of here.
“None of your business, sweetheart.” He pushes me facedown onto the worn-out sofa. I shift when he circles behind me. He forces my hands behind my back. The skin pinches as he fastens them together. The familiar sound of a zip tie locks in my fate.
“You’re really doing this, aren’t you?” Tears prick my irises like hot needles. I won’t allow them to flow. This man will never get anything from me.
Mr. Black leaves the room, secure in his choice because I’m immobilized. Before he comes back, I take inventory of the room, checking my surroundings for anything useful.
Four windows.
Five doors. One I know for certain leads out into the hallway and back alley.
A large television sits on the floor, and I spot the Xbox on the corner of it, neatly tucked away. That’s how Ben got a message to me.
Mr. Black saunters into the room, brandishing a pocket knife between his fingers. My stomach curls when he twists it in front of my face. He tucks the sharp end into my hair, swishing it through the strands covering my face.
“You see that?” he sneers. When I don’t humor him by looking, he grips my skull and forces my eyes to the Xbox. “Your boy is smart.”
“Where is Ben?” I whisper my question, sending a silent prayer to anyone who will listen to me. He has to be alive.
Mr. Black crouches down in front of me. His icy black eyes force me to sit back. This man who created my husband, who has wreaked havoc on the one person I love without a shadow of a doubt, stands in front of me, threatening my happily ever after.
I gulp down the lump in my throat and throw caution to the wind. “You’re sort of a piece of shit, you know that?”
He reels back and smacks the back of his hand dead across my face, making this seem all too familiar. “Listen to me, little girl, you are not in control here this time.”
“Was I ever?” I speak honestly. If I look back on my life, I can’t remember a time of being in complete control. Someone else has always moved the strings, and my body jolts in the direction they manipulate for me.
“I guess we’ll see now, won’t we?” He stands to his full height, the one thing he gave to his son, and steps over me to leave the room. “My guess is my son’s on his way. He wouldn’t let a pretty little thing like you out of his sight for too long.”
Like cold water thrown on my lap, I wake up from the blurry existence I’m living in. Of course, Graham is on his way here. He’d notice I was gone and figure out a way to find me. I ditched my phone in the garbage can outside of the building, knowing I’d never make it through the door with it.
My eyelids flutter shut, and I listen for any other sounds in the apartment or outside. What are the risks of banging on one of the windows? Will he kill Ben? He did, after all, attempt to kill his own son.
Ben means nothing to him.
Ben means everything to me.
I don’t know how long I’m in the room by myself. I manage to find a comfortable spot with my hands tied behind my back. Time has no measurement in a room with no indication of where the sun is. I stop trying to calculate it, knowing there’s no point.
“Mom.” Ben’s voice breaks through the haze.
I must have fallen asleep. My eyes spring open, and there he is in front of me, tears streaming down his face. He’s trembling.
“Did he hurt you?” I whisper for only him to hear. Ben shakes his head, and I sigh in relief.
“Can you untie my mom?” Ben asks. His voice is sweet and even. Dammit, this kid is brave. What’s been going on since he’s been here? What has he seen?
Mr. Black watches us, his glare bouncing between us like a cat chasing a laser on the carpet.
My heart breaks into a million pieces. This situation could ruin Ben if he ever walks out those doors. When he walks out those doors, my mind corrects me.
“And why should I do that?” Ben takes a step back when Mr. Black moves into our space.
“It’s hurting her.” He brushes against my wrist and holds up a bloody finger to show his poor excuse for a grandpa.
When did that happen?
“What if I told you your mother has hurt me? She stole my son away, taught him he deserved better than what I was giving him and his mother.” His voice is loud enough for someone outside to hear, and I cross my fingers someone does.
“Please untie her,” he asks again. His innocence is impossibly genuine, and I see the tough exterior around Mr. Black’s heart weakening.
He brandishes the pocket knife and runs it over the zip tie until it snaps away from my body.
“Thank you,” I say. Ben leaps into my lap. His heart beats frantically against my chest. “Do whatever he says,” I murmur in his ear. My heart stops when I pull Ben back and nod to make sure he understands.
“I didn’t mean what I said,” Ben whispers. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean any of it.”
“Shhh...” I run my hands through his hair, calming him.
One thing mothers shared during our adoption process is that my wellbeing will no longer come first. It’s a crazy thing to think about, and perhaps, I never have until now. Humans naturally put up defenses to protect ourselves. Our nature is to save ourselves before we save another. We’re survivors. For most, that changes when they become parents. One single day changes our instincts, and immediately, we are willing to lay ourselves in front of danger as long as our children won’t shoulder the brunt of the pain.
For this very reason, I followed Ben’s instructions and came here without telling anyone where I was going. When the message popped up on the screen, I knew it wasn’t Ben Mr. Black was after. Ben is his collateral damage. He lured me here, knowing I’d come for my son, and Graham would come for both of us.
Mr. Black has always been theatrical, so it’s no wonder he didn’t go straight for the source. Instead he intends to play with Graham like his own personal toy.
It’s poetic, really, when I think about it.
Graham and I have walked around free for so damn long, and it was a matter of time before it came crumbling down around us. There is always a monster lurking in the shadows. I know that better than anyone.
“Why are you so hateful?” I ask. Ben sits beside me, and I tuck him within the safety of my arms. If Mr. Black takes one wrong step, I’ll be able to place myself in front of my child.
Mr. Black circles around, looking every bit the villain, and grins at us. “My son took everything away from me. My career in baseball was stripped because I had a baby at home I needed to care for. My wife focused her energy on him and neglected me. It’s not hate, Kennedy. It’s resentment, because now he’s getting to live his life freely.” He bangs his closed fist against his chest. “My life,” he shouts.
“That’s what a father does. He sacrifices.”
Trying to rationalize with Mr. Black, and the fucked up lunatic living in his mind, is pointless. He hates his son for simply being born. What kind of father has that much anger in his heart? I look down at Ben as a tear rolls down his cheek.
“I want daddy,” Ben cries. I shush him and rub the hair above his ears to calm him. I beg for someone to save us.
“Your dad’s right here.”
At the sound of that voice, my heart stops. Blood no longer flows under my skin. I hold Ben a little bit closer, protectively stroking his brown hair.
“This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening,” I whisper.
“Oh, trust me, Baby, it’s happening.” He stands over top of me.
His voice is enough to draw every bit of oxygen from my lungs, stealing it like it’s his to have. I’d swallow Ben if I knew it would make him be closer to me. I scan between my dream and my nightmare. Graham lays limply on the floor, a streak of blood on the shoulder of his uniform from the gash on his forehead. I roll my shoulders, mock-preparing myself for coming face to face with the boy who once stole my everything.
“Oh my god!” I force out. He’s not a boy anymore. Where he once seemed harmless, he’s now more menacing than ever.
“Did you miss me?” His smirk brings bile crawling up my throat, burning me from the inside, out.
“Craig,” Mr. Black barks, circling the couch and stealing Ben from my side.
An Earth-moving, glass-shattering scream builds and punches its way out of my mouth. I lunge forward to grab Ben to me. If he’s by my side, I can keep him safe.
“Oh no, you don’t.” Craig grabs my waist and jerks me back. Tears stream down my cheeks. Ben’s within arm’s reach, but I can’t get to him. His fingers wiggle and stretch, begging for me to latch onto them. I can’t, though. He’s too far away, ripped from me, and I wonder if that was the last time I would ever hold him.
“Mom,” Ben shouts before Mr. Black shoves him in a room, slams the door, and clicks the lock.
A sense of relief washes over me. He’s safe. Maybe for now, but that’s a better promise than I’m willing to make than when he’s in here.
Craig looms over me, placing his lips directly next to my ear. I pinch my eyes closed, reminding myself I’m not the girl on the cement slab. I’m strong. I’m able. He will not defy the wall of safety I’ve built, and he will never be the one to tear it down.
“You thought you’d never see me again, didn’t you?”
I don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. Even if I wanted to talk, I don’t think my mind and my mouth are on the same page. How is he in front of me? If he chooses, he can touch me. A stream of tears pushes its way through the barrier and slips down my cheeks.
“You’re probably asking your pretty little self how this is happening, am I right?” He strings his fingers through my hair, and I turn to escape his touch. It doesn’t do me any good. His filthy hands grip my chin, forcing me to look at him. “We have zero control over those around us, Kennedy. You know that more than anyone, but we do have control of ourselves.”
Craig’s right. My story proves it to be true. I’ve walked through my life, taking self-defense classes and shooting lessons, to find myself under the thumb of the person who ripped me open, tore my insides apart, and left me alone on a cold night like a piece of garbage.
“This part of our story is actually rather beautiful, Kennedy.” Craig kneels in front of me, a gun now in his hand, and the stench of whiskey on his breath. I look beyond him to find the nearly empty bottle.
“It’s true, Kennedy. After a quick transfer for Craig due to his good boy behavior,” Mr. Black begins to say.
Craig’s hand flies up to silence him. “Let me tell the story.” Craig spins, unsteady on his feet, and his blackened eyes lock with mine. There’s no point in shifting away. He thinks he has me right where he wants me. “Who knew your father-in-law and I would end up in the same place. Word spread of his arrival, him being a big shot and all, made of money and shit. We bided our time before we approached each other, got to talking, and one thing led to another, and now here we are.”
“It’s not possible. You got fifteen years,” I choke on the words. As much as I try, I sound weak, and I hate myself for it. “They would’ve called to tell me.”
“Remember how we are only in control of ourselves? It seems we can be in control of others, too. You see, you kept up on your information, but all it took was one phone call to blow your safety to smithereens.”
He’s going to kill me.
The sound of Ben crying drags my attention away, and a sharp sting pinches my cheek. I whip around, and Craig smirks, shaking his opened hand.
“Come on, man.” Mr. Black steps towards me, and Craig pierces him with a glare. He leaves the room, leaving me to deal with Craig’s rampage.
Okay, so now I know who’s in charge. Discretely, I peek at Graham. To not give myself away, I look to Craig, ready to challenge him.
“No wonder Graham swooped in and stole you all those years ago. You’re a peach.” I wince as his thumb traces the length of my bottom lip. “You’ve aged with such grace, Kennedy.” The cool metal of the gun barrel runs down my face.
“Did you think I’d deteriorate after what you did to me?” I sit up straighter, squaring my shoulders, begging myself not to regret what I’m doing. “That I’d curl up into a ball, and let you completely take everything away from me? You lost. Not me.”
I pinch my eyes shut, already knowing the kind of man he is. He won’t be challenged. He won’t be tested. What he doesn’t know is I’m not willing to back down. I won’t be a victim to him anymore. Craig will never take a single thing from me ever again.
His fist strikes my temple. The room darkens, and spots twinkle in the corners of my eyes. I fall to my stomach on the floor. Where Graham once was is now empty. Did Mr. Black drag him away? Frantic, I scan the room, but Craig pulls me back. I dig my nails into the carpet, feeling them rip from my skin. Craig twists my body around, and I kick.
“Why?” I scream, and he freezes at the question, my feet resting against his stomach to keep him away.
His sinister laugh is achingly loud. “Why? You want to know why? Why do we do anything we do, Kennedy? Haven’t you figured it out yet? We’re all monsters. We walk through this life with dark thoughts, but some of us fulfill our fantasies.”
“And this is you fulfilling your fantasy?” I scoot back and sit up, positioning myself not to be vulnerable in front of him. “You fantasized about violating me and stealing my light. There were nights where I couldn’t even turn off the lights because of you. You may have taken everything from me, but I fought back. Maybe not that night, but every single one after.”
“Do you think I give a shit, Kennedy?” He’s mocking me. “Do you think I thought this out?”
“Why me then?” I ask, pushing myself back a foot, unnoticed by Craig who’s rubbing the barrel of the gun to his forehead.
“You were sweet, but I knew you never were in to me. You used me. I used you,” he says. The way he speaks is as if he thinks we are even. Both of us committed a sin, and now, all is forgiven.
“Craig,” Mr. Black says, storming back into the room.
“What do you want?” Craig spins on Mr. Black, holding the gun out towards him.
I scurry back another foot. The further away from Ben, the safer he’ll be.
What’s the plan? Graham’s missing. I have zero strength left in my body and I’m outnumbered.
“What should we do with him?” Mr. Black asks.
I turn to see Graham still unconscious on the floor.
“What?” I whisper, but Craig hears me. I curl in on myself. The floor rattles under his footfalls.
Mr. Black kicks my husband repeatedly in the ribs. Graham reaches for his stomach, protecting himself, before rolling onto his back.
“Hey Dad.” He stands, winded and pained. When he’s at his full height, I know we’ll be okay. Graham will never let anything happen to Ben and me.
Mr. Black lunges at Graham, circling his arms around his legs to try to take him down. They’re both strong, but Graham has sobriety on his side. Mr. Black’s movements are staggered and uneven.
“You took everything from me,” Mr. Black yells when they step away from each other. “And now look at you.” He gestures to his son’s uniform. “Living my dream. If it weren’t for me quitting, you’d not be here right now. You wouldn’t know the rush of standing on the mound. You wouldn’t live the life you lead, and I’ve never gotten a thank you.”
“A thank you?” Graham chuckles, mocking his father’s words. “You beat the fuck out of Mom and me. You drank yourself stupid, and you almost killed my wife. I don’t owe your ass shit. You are worthless. You always have been. Don’t blame me for your shortcomings. You weren’t made to play ball in the pros. You know that more than anyone else.”
“What are you doing?” I shout at Graham. He’s poking at an unstable structure, and it’s going to fall on us if he isn’t careful.
“Not now, Kennedy,” Graham barks.
I recoil, never having heard the tone he’s just used on me.
“The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree now, does it, son?” Mr. Black jokes, clicking his tongue and bringing his cold, dead eyes to me. “Prepare yourself, sweetheart. It’s a matter of time until he ends up like his deadbeat old dad and beats the fuck out of you.”
“I’m nothing like you.” Graham shifts his body between me and his father.
Craig looms behind me, and his eager electricity booms off his body. We’re running out of time.
“Why’d you bring us here?” I ask, fearful of the answer, but needing to do something. I can’t sit here with my boy in the other room and allow someone to rip me and his father away from him.
“Isn’t it obvious? It’s the perfect crime. He gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse. My life is already over. I spiraled out, lost your mom and you.” Mr. Black must have a different memory of his life in Tennessee.
“You lost us long before that night, father.”
Craig waves his gun wielding hand in the air, breaking up Graham and his dad. “Enough of the walk down memory lane.” The thrill in his eyes spooks the hell out of me.
I walk backwards until I hit the wall of boarded windows, banging my fist where one of the window panes should be. The sharp sound of glass shattering startles us.
“You little bitch.” Craig’s open hand strikes my cheek. Pain rushes to the skin below my eye, and I cup my face. My hands are covered in blood from the ring on his middle finger. “Are you trying to alert someone? Let someone know where you’re at? Do you honestly think anyone will find you? That anyone even fucking cares?”
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Mr. Black yells. My father-in-law holds my husband as he fights to get to me.
Craig lurches forward and wraps his hands around my neck, squeezing furiously until my eyes begin to bulge, and the only thing I can see is him as he disappears into my tunnel vision.
This is it. He’ll win. My son will be an orphan again. There’s no way they’ll let Graham walk out of here with him. I’m going to die, and my son’s going to hear my last breath, helpless like he was all those years ago with his mom.
I pinch my eyes shut, place my hands on Craig’s biceps, and fight. Fight for every girl who has felt helpless. Fight for those moments we live for. Fight for the man who thinks he’s watching his wife die. Fight for the boy who asks me to read him bedtime stories. With my eyes open wide, I fight, scratching and pleading for him to stop, because if he’s going to kill me, he’s going to watch himself do it.
Everything goes silent as his grip tightens.
It’s useless. He’s too strong. My hands slip from his cold skin and fall weakly to my sides.
Several loud, Earth shattering bangs ring out, and my throat squeaks with satisfaction at finally being able to inhale and exhale. Black spots in my vision shift to bright yellow and then to white, until my sight fully corrects itself. Craig lays lifeless at my feet, and I fall, resting against the wall as far away from him as I can get. With the little strength left in my body, I shove my heels into his chest and roll him over. His eyes are dead, void of any emotion.
On the floor beside Craig, Mr. Black struggles for air. A perfect red circle floods his shirt. He coughs, spraying blood in front of him. As if there are magnets behind our eyes, our stares lock on each other. My chest heaves, watching my father-in-law struggle to breathe. He’s a vile man, yet still somehow, I feel sorry for him, for the man he was never capable of being.
Mr. Black has missed out on a lot of things in life, and maybe, just maybe, in this moment as his chest fills with blood, he’s realizing all of his missed opportunities.
Unable to watch a man die, I look up to see Rico, pistol in hand, and his scared eyes as he takes in the situation. Graham takes the firearm from him and sets it on the table.
“I heard the glass shatter,” Rico says, his voice wavering. “I heard the glass shatter, and I ran because the police weren’t here yet. I didn’t want to come in and jeopardize you anymore than you already were. I ran in because I heard the glass shatter. I didn’t know what to do, and the gun was in the hallway. I ran because I heard the glass shatter.” Tears stream down Rico’s face, and even in this moment, when everything has been threatened to be taken away from me, I ache for him.
The three of us don’t move.
“Put your hands in the air,” someone shouts.
We do as they say. Soon the room fills with police officers, checking pulses and searching each of us for weapons.
“Put your damn hands in the air,” they demand again even though our hands are.
“Mom,” Ben yells.
I race forward, no regard for the situation, and make quick work of the lock. I crash through the door, and Ben lunges into my arms, toppling me over until he lays on top of me, his head on my chest. He’s safe. We’re all safe. I run my fingers through his hair. His chest rises and falls against mine. A flood of emotions takes over and I sob, holding onto my son. How different our lives could be right now.
“Ma’am,” someone says. I open my eyes and look above Ben and me to the officer looming over us. “We’re going to need you to stand, please.”
“No,” I say, stroking my son’s hair. “Just give me one more minute with him in my arms. It’s all I need.”
“Excuse me?” he barks. “Ma’am, I need you to stand.”
“And you heard my wife. She said no. Whatever you need from her can wait.” Graham places his hand on the officer’s bulletproof vest, giving me the space I’m desperate for.
“Mom,” Ben whispers.
“Yeah, Baby?” I bury my nose in his hair, smelling the shampoo he used last night.
“I told myself I’d get out of here, that I’d do what Dad would do and get back to you.” Ben’s tears soak my shirt, and I shush him.
“You’re safe now,” I tell him.
I don’t know how long we lay there. Time has no meaning to me. Graham sits down beside us and strokes my hair, giving me the time I need to collect myself. Once we get up and walk out, an influx of complication will bombard us.
“Ma’am”—an officer bends down beside me— “I can’t begin to understand what you’re going through, but we really need to have a paramedic check you, your husband, and your son out.”
“Okay.” I pull Ben up with me and usher him towards the front door, shielding his eyes from the aftermath of a lot of years of hate.
A glance over my shoulder reminds me of the horror that occurred, and somehow, relieves a pressure I’ve been holding onto for so long.
Mr. Black continues to struggle for breath as the paramedic works on him, checking his vitals and putting pressure on his wound. In the corner of the room, Craig is not much different than who he was when air filtered in and out of his lungs. He’s always been empty, void of any human emotion. Now his physical being links up to his mental instability.
With the patience of a man who loves as fiercely as he fights, Graham holds his hand out to me, and my fingers lock into his. He pulls me close and holds every ounce of weight I give over to him. I give everything over to him.
“If you hadn’t shown up...” I say through the lump in my throat.
“Don’t.” His steps stall. “Don’t say it, because if you utter those words, it will give life to them, and I can’t live life knowing how fragile it is.”
Graham’s right. Life is fragile, but this isn’t news to me. What is shiny and new in my heart is the idea of loving someone enough to literally lay my life down for them. Some would say Graham and I love to the capacity of selflessness, but they’re wrong. We may love each other, but we live for Ben.
I understand every decision we’ve made inside that run-down apartment has been for one goal. Make sure our son walks out unscathed.
Steal the air from my lungs. Pour the blood from my veins. None of it matters if Ben isn’t happy and healthy.
It’s an impossible task to walk around with my heart outside of my chest, but when I look over at Ben, I know it’s a task I’m more than willing to do. He is my whole heart.