by Kim Petersen
Glen gave a mock look of surprise. ‘Am I missing something?’ he said with a frown, ‘because I sure as hell saw a question in your eyes from over there.’ He gestured towards the pool table.
She looked to her glass of wine with a playful smile dancing at the corners of her lips. When she lifted her head to look at him again, she pushed out her chest and traced her fingers over the deep plunge of her cleavage.
Her smile was coy. ‘I’m Karen,’ she said in a husky voice.
Too easy, Glen thought as his gaze fell on the swell of her breasts.
He licked his bottom lip. ‘I’m thirsty; drink?’ he said.
Glen and Steve spent the following hours buying rounds of drinks for the group of women while they chatted and laughed freely. After playing some more games of pool, Glen swept Karen off to the dance floor and they both hungrily fumbled and pressed against each other.
The music slowed and Glen pulled her close. ‘Let’s get some air, huh?’ he murmured in her ear.
She nodded. ‘Let me go tell my friends and pee first,’ she frowned. ‘Not in that order!’
She made a dash for the ladies’ toilet. Glen staggered with a lopsided grin to the men’s room to also relieve himself. He looked forward to spending a little time with Karen, and purposefully pushed the uneasiness of the afternoon to the back of his mind. He barged through the door of the lavatory, and after going about his business, stood at the basins to wash his hands.
Kill him. His body stiffened and he gazed around the near empty rest room. Kill. The word spiked through the haze of the booze that clogged his senses like a sharp blade of a knife. He studied his reflection in the mirror. Am I going crazy? His face contorted. Kill him! He gripped the sides of his head with fistfuls of hair tangling through his knuckles. He leaned forward and peered hard into his eyes. Glen. Kill. The voice seethed through the recesses of his mind with growing force, and he noticed the gold flecks in his eyes flame more vividly than he had ever witnessed before.
‘Hey, you alright man?’
Another voice struck through his awareness and he looked beside him to see a wiry bearded man watching him in puzzlement. Glen’s mind felt dense within the shroud of a black haze. His face began to twist and his mouth writhed in a gnarl.
He took a step towards the man. ‘What do you want? Why are you watching me?’ he spat.
The man’s eyes widened and he raised his palms up in a shrug. ‘Hey man, nothing; just asking if you’re okay,’ he stammered.
Glen drew closer as, completely submerged in the veil of darkness, his thoughts rattled against each other in a spiralling arc.
‘Why do you keep taunting my mind?’ Glen roared.
The man backed away until his back meshed with the tiled wall behind him. His eyes darted around the restroom.
A monstrous growl issued from him as he raised one hand and gripped the man’s throat while he lifted a balled fist.
‘Dude, please!’ The man choked.
He writhed under the strength of Glen’s hands and tried to dodge the blow that struck against the side of his chin. He slumped before attempting to block his face with shaking arms before Glen’s fist again crashed into his head.
‘Glen! Glen!’ Steve yelled.
He ran to the two men and grabbed Glen’s arm before the next blow found its target. He brought his arms around Glen and pulled him down in a tackle. They collapsed to the floor in a heavy thud.
The bearded man wasted no time in taking the opportunity for a swift getaway.
Glen grunted as Steve winded him. He squirmed and the two men wrestled together for a moment before Steve slogged him in his side and pinned him down with a straddle. Glen’s face screwed together in a groan as he succumbed to Steve’s insistence.
Steve looked down at him with bewilderment. ‘What the hell are you doing man?’ he demanded.
‘Get off me,’ Glen retorted.
Steve kneeled beside Glen as he sat up with a heave. They eyed each other. Steve panted while pushing long strands of brown hair from his face. He stared sharply at Glen.
‘So?’ he said.
Glen scowled. ‘So, what?’ he snapped.
‘What were you thinking punching up poor Larry like that? He’s nice guy, man,’ Steve said.
Glen shrugged. ‘He was following me; he’s bad,’ he said.
He burrowed his head in his arms, and taking a deep breath, willed the gloom to fade from his mind.
‘Are you okay?’ Steve’s voice was traced with concern.
Glen shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I keep hearing voices,’ he admitted.
Steve frowned. He chuckled and playfully punched Glen. ‘It’s the booze, man,’ he said.
‘No, it’s not. It started before the booze.’ Glen paused and an expression of clarity permeated his eyes. ‘I think I have to kill someone,’ he said.
Steve’s eyes widened and he quickly checked the room to make sure they were still alone.
He was silent for a moment as he warily watched Glen. He laughed nervously and planted another punch on Glen’s arm.
‘The only thing you have to kill is that eager piece waiting for you out there.’ He gestured behind him. ‘Lighten up, man. Go and seal the deal. Lose yourself between her legs. Tomorrow, everything will be better, you’ll see.’
Glen looked at him with the eyes of a lost boy. He nodded and accepted Steve’s hand as they hauled themselves off the floor. He went to the basin again and examined his reflection. Tomorrow everything will be better, he affirmed to himself.
He allowed Steve to clasp an arm over his shoulder and guide him from the restroom.
‘Geez, you’re a hard man to take down,’ Steve joked in his ear as they entered the bar area.
Glen forced a smile as Karen waved to him. Everything will be better, he told himself as he visibly tried to shrug off the uneasiness that plagued him.
They strolled through the dark streets together and found their way to the bay. The water was still and glistened with a luminous trail of the full moon suspended above them like a majestic silver sphere. They kicked off their shoes and scrunched cool sand between their toes as they meandered closer to the water’s edge.
Karen reached for Glen’s hand and gave him a squeeze as she peered up to him with uncertainty.
‘Everything okay? You seem quiet now,’ she said.
He gazed down to her and studied her face with only the light of the moon to guide his vision. She was nothing like his dark beauty that painted in the park every weekend, but she was pretty enough, and she was easy. Aren’t they all, he smirked.
All except for her.
He roughly pulled her into his arms. ‘Everything will be okay tomorrow,’ he murmured.
When his mouth found hers, he felt the burn of his desire burst into fire. He pushed his tongue against hers and kissed her deeply. He needed someone to get him through the night, and his body came to life as he savoured the closeness of her warm body.
She pulled back gently and her laugh was soft. ‘You remind me of a lion,’ she said.
She reached for the buttons of his shirt. ‘A magnificent, hungry lion,’ she said while unfastening the last button. ‘You want to eat this pussy cat, lion?’ she grinned.
‘Come here,’ he growled.
They toppled to the sand and entangled themselves together in a passionate embrace. He shed her blouse and fiercely pushed her bra aside to expose ripened nipples. Ready for the plucking, he thought headily with an appreciative grin. He cupped her ample breasts with both hands, squeezing the flesh towards him and directing her cherry nipples to his eager mouth. He covered her nipples with his whole mouth and groaned as he began to suck. She squirmed with delight and moaned beneath his warm tongue as he latched onto her breasts and suckled with the eagerness of a child.
‘Mmm, my lion,’ she purred.
She reached for the hardening of his bulge, and moaned again as she manoeuvred her hips under him and pushed herself to feel him longingly
. He was only too willing to oblige her awaiting softness, and entered her with deliberate ease as she lifted herself to greedily swallow him. When she had totally engulfed him, his hips began to move with increasing pace as they rocked together, and he became lost between her alluring legs. When the floodgates opened, he panted with a breathless growl as she noisily shrieked beneath him. He grinned and planted light kisses to her forehead. Everything will be okay tomorrow, he thought.
He rolled off her and together they gazed at the stars above them, their twinkling light overwhelmed in the radiance of the moon. She curled her body close to his, resting her head against his broad chest.
‘Will you call me tomorrow?’ she asked softly.
He focused on the shiniest star in the sky and wished with all his heart that star could fill the empty void that grew within him with its lustre.
‘Glen?’ she persisted.
He stroked her dark hair. ‘Sure,’ he said quietly.
But they both knew he wouldn’t.
Chapter Three
A fter walking Karen home, Glen dug his hands deep into his jean pockets and trooped indifferently through the quiet streets. He was tired and even the thought of entering the home where his dad would be sleeping filled him with trepidation. His mother’s words that afternoon jumbled through his mind as he walked. He had heard her utter a string of praising sentences hundreds of times before, and always right after his father had busted up her face or bruised her ribs. He didn’t get it. And he was growing weary of the whole unending cycle of abuse. He was much bigger than his father now. Years of packing paper, driving factory forklifts and drinking himself into a stupor every day had taken its toll on Ron Anderson. But despite the fact his father was a former shadow of the man he used to be, memories of him beating him down until he broke into a whimpering mess haunted Glen to his core.
Glen had dared to stand up to Ron only once, and only after his father had raised a hand to his mother. Glen had long ago learned how to cope with the abuse his father had inflicted upon him. However, he had never learned to accept his mother’s beatings. He had discovered the brutal consequences that followed when he had attempted to protect his mother at the age of nine. Ron had arrived home loaded up with alcohol late one evening. Both Glen and his mother were asleep in their rooms, and both tried to ignore the incessant thumping and crashing that reverberated through the house with Ron’s arrival.
‘Helen!’ Ron shouted down the hallway. ‘Get here woman! Fix my breakfast,’ he slurred.
Glen listened to the groan of the floorboards as his father made his way into the house and closer to the bedrooms. He clutched at his blankets and hid trembling beneath them. His father paused in the darkened hallway before Glen heard the swing of his parents’ bedroom door as his dad threw it open with force.
Glen gasped and pulled the blankets tightly around his face and pressed his hands to his ears.
‘No, no, no,’ he whispered, trying hard to will his father into submission.
An ear-piercing scream shot through the air and penetrated Glen’s ears despite the cloaking over them.
‘No … no,’ he sobbed.
His pillowcase became damp with tears, and his nose became stuffy. A loud thud bounced through the house, and his mother’s high-pitched wails instantly followed. His stomach churned and he clenched his fists together until his knuckles stretched white and ached. I must help her! his mind muddled as he found a scrap of courage within the petrified feelings that overwhelmed him.
Before he could change his mind, he threw off the blankets and planted his feet on the floor. He puffed out his chest and squared his jaw, then marched to his parents’ bedroom with as much grit as he dared. When he reached the opened doorway to their bedroom, he scanned the room for his mother. Bedsheets and blankets had been ripped from the bed and were cast aside on the floor, and a bedside lamp had been toppled over and lay broken near the bed.
His father was standing over his mother who was laying on the floor on the far side of the room. Glen could only see her feet poking from behind the bed. His father was striking her with his belt, and slurring incomprehensible profanities down at her. Glen could hear her whimpering and shrieking with each blow.
‘Please, please, Ron!’ Helen begged. ‘I’ll … fix … you break … fast … just stop,’ she stuttered.
Ron scowled down at her. Glen took a breath and gritted his teeth. He screamed and ran to his father with balled up fists pummelling the air.
‘Stop! Stop! Stop!’ he yelled.
He whacked his father as hard as he could, and followed up the onslaught with a shove. Ron lost his footing and tumbled forward, catching himself on the bed’s edge as he turned to look at Glen. The boy kicked him in the head as he turned. Ron looked surprised. He glanced to his son and spotted the next kick coming his way. He caught Glen’s leg mid-air and tugged hard. Glen landed with a thump and turned on his knees fast to scramble away. A searing pain shot through his back as his father’s punch connected, sending him floundering to the floor. He wasn’t quick enough.
Ron bellowed out in rage. He was on his feet in a flash and pressed a foot into Glen’s back as he reached for his belt.
‘You wanna play, boy,’ he sneered.
He whipped the belt into action and in a wild frenzy lashed at his son who howled in agony. Glen tried to cover his head from the repeated blows, but each time the belt would tear at the skin of his hands and knock them from his head. He could his mother screaming in the background over the sounds of the belt whistling through the air and shredding his body. After a while he grew numb all over and his mind became foggy with dizziness. The last thing he recalled was the thick taste of blood as it trickled to his mouth when the buckle of the belt caught and mutilated the flesh of his ear.
That was the last time he ever dared stand up to Ron. But things are different now, he told himself, as he turned the corner to his street. I am bigger, stronger. Yet still, somewhere within him was that nine-year-old boy that his father had left broken and bleeding like an animal on the street the night he dared protect his mother.
Although he was over six feet with a strong solid build, Glen could be surprisingly light on his feet. His mother would often joke that if he had only learned to pirouette, he could have made a great ballet dancer. Her jokes made him scowl when he was younger, as he had considered male ballet dancers to be un-manly, and the thought of his mother thinking of him in that way offended him. Nowadays, with the growth that had propelled him into an adult, so had his sense of humour, and it wasn’t an unlikely sight to catch Glen attempting a clumsily-executed pirouette down the glossed floorboards of their home. It was those light nimble moves he used now to gracefully manoeuvre himself up the darkened porch steps and edge through the front door of his house. He closed the door quietly behind him, and turned to face the dim hallway. He paused, contemplating. I so need a shower, he thought. A brisk hand through the hair was met with drifting grains of sand.
He noticed a sliver of light beaming from under the lounge room door as he made his way down the hall. Against the inky blackness of the hallway, the light appeared to him like molten silver, drawing him closer with its incandescent glow. He paused as he neared his parents’ bedroom, and the fine hairs on the back of his neck prickled when he saw the door was wide open. He poked his head through the threshold, and with the silvery light of the moon casting eerie shadows from the window, he noticed the room was empty.
His stomach tightened in a hard knot. He closed his eyes. Surely, he wouldn’t have gone for her again tonight? He frowned. Usually his father left her alone for weeks after he had hurt her. It was during those weeks that he would grovel with guilt and shower his mother with gifts. It was not his pattern to hurt her again so soon.
His lithesome moves dissolved with the purposeful stomps he took now as he burst noisily through the lounge room door. It took only seconds for him to scan the room and spot his father on the floor cradling her limp body in his arms. Y
et the scene before him appeared to unfold as if he were instantly captivated in a trance. His mother’s blonde hair hung crimson and wisped over the floor as his father rocked her back and forth. Her swollen black eyes appeared bloody and glued together while her lips fell opened and lopsided. For a moment, Glen was unsure if he was trapped in the throes of a bad dream. He shook his head and widened his eyes to focus on them again.
He then became aware of his father’s constant whimpering. The dribble falling from Ron’s mouth seeped into Glen’s ears and awakened a rage within him he had never known. A searing pain struck his mind. He clutched at his head and squinted with the agony that uncoiled and penetrated through him.
‘I’m sorry; I’m sorry my love,’ Ron whispered. ‘Forgive me and return. I’ll never hurt you again, I promise.’
He sobbed uncontrollably, and buried his face against her lifeless body.
‘Dad?’ Glen said quietly.
He was still in the doorway but the sound of his voice shattered through his father’s moaning. Ron gazed without focus towards Glen’s voice in an alcohol induced stupor. The broken capillaries that usually littered his face like a road map were blazing red and blotchy with his anguish. Fresh tears pooled his eyes and toppled freely down his face.
He trembled as a shriek of torment tore through his throat. ‘Glen … Glen, help me,’ he choked.
He reached a quivering hand out towards his son.
Glen dropped his gaze to his father’s outstretched hand as he moved closer. He traced his eyes to his mother again and his body stiffened with his pause.
‘Is she dead?’ he said.
Ron’s hand fell heavily to the floor, and his shoulders drooped as he hung his head in a low nod. Glen felt the blood drain from his face.
His jaw clenched tightly. ‘Look at me!’ he thundered.
Ron lifted his head and slowly took in Glen’s towering figure. Their eyes met fleetingly before he again dropped his head.
‘I didn’t mean it, I swear. She hit her head on the coffee table when I hit her,’ he sniffed.