by mike Evans
Billy—who would give his life for his baby brother—ran for his dad. David saw him from the corner of his eye and turned around with an open hand, ready for his eldest boy, slapping Billy as hard as he could across the face.
Billy’s head twisted unnaturally to the side and a line of spit flew from his mouth. There was an instant fire that erupted across his cheek. He fell to the ground, gripping his neck and cheek, and it immediately went numb; that passed to an intensity of pain he’d never felt before. Tears filled his eyes, and when he tried to get up, his dad kicked him over to his side. Billy still tried to get up, and David brought back a foot, punting the boy three feet back until he lay in the fetal position; his tears and blood ran down to the floor.
David smiled as he walked towards the steps. He lifted his shirt tucking the front into his waistband. He walked without looking down at what he was doing. He unclipped his belt buckle pulling the leather out of its loops and letting it drag by his side bouncing off the steps. David walked with a drunken swagger, clinging tightly to the bannister as he made his way up the steps, one step at a time. Tony’s lip was quivering, and he turned and ran to his room, it was the only place he considered a sanctuary.
“You can run you little shit, but there ain’t nowhere for you to go.”
Billy rubbed at his face, wiping the tears. When he saw his dad taking the long staircase one at a time, he felt like his heart was in his throat. His dad stomped up the steps, each one echoed under the thud, thud, thud of his worn work boots. The only thing worse, was the sound of his belt buckle bouncing against each of the step’s edges as he went up.
Billy crawled to his mom, shaking her, crying even more now himself, because she was not responding to his cries or prompts to move. He put two fingers under her chin, hating his father more than ever before for having to worry about his mother being dead at twenty-eight. When he found the faint pulse, he rested his head on her chest for only a second. “Thank you God, thank you!”
Billy pushed up from the ground, leaving his mother behind. He ran to the phone checking it and thinking of a few words that he wasn’t yet allowed to say, but that he wanted to, because of it not working. He wanted nothing more than to call the police and get help on its way. He thought about the neighbors, but was not going to leave them here on their own.
He kissed his mom on the forehead, picking up his mom’s frying pan, and made his way to the bannister. He looked up to see his dad at the top of the steps disappearing into the long, dark hallway.
Tony saw his dad coming up the steps and made a break for his room. He thought that he would find sanctuary and safety; little did he know what was going to happen.
David laughed as he bounced off of the walls. “Tony... oh, Tony, come out and play with Daddy. Do it now, and you might only be unable to sit for a few days. Get out here now, or I’m going to make it hurt, son, I promise.”
David stood there for a moment, wrapping the buckle around his palm until he could barely feel his fingers. He snapped the thick leather, making sure that it was ready to deliver a lesson in respect, then he winced a little when he remembered his lessons from his own father. In between the snapping, all he could hear was the whimpering coming from Tony under his bed. He touched the door handle, letting go instantly when it felt like ice. He realized that he could see his breath and quickly came to the conclusion that the electric company must have finally shut off the electricity on them. He wrapped his hand around it again, ignoring the iciness and the signs which might have saved him.
David twisted the handle, and when he stepped in, he could see a little puff of air coming from beneath the bed. “I don’t know why no one thinks that they need to respect me in this house. Do I not provide for you, do I not put food on the table... most nights, you three would be begging on the street if it wasn’t for me. You should treat me like a god. But I can’t even get a thank you for the new house.”
He stood there for a moment, breathing heavily; not trying to calm down, but getting ready for a beating to be given. David knelt down to get face to face with his son. He took a step back when he saw Tony. The little boy was no longer crying, begging or whimpering, he was just staring. David—who was on his knees—tried to get up the second he saw that look; when he saw hollow eyes staring back at him from his toddler. “Tony... what the hell is wrong with you boy?”
His eyes began to grow red until they were practically glowing in the darkness beneath the bed. David sat there in shock, looking at his son. He heard a rattling coming from the wall and watched as the small wooden cross that he and his wife—whom he had mocked for being insistent that they place a cross in their room in the first place—began to reject the nails from the wall he’d placed them in. The three holding the top and the sides of the cross rattled until they fell free to the floor, spinning till they came to a stop. He remembered putting the cross up because it was one of his rare sober days and one finally filled with hope and a feeling of accomplishment that he’d gotten somewhere for his first time and could move his family out of low quality apartment. The cross slid from its upright position so that it fell, pointing down.
He looked back at the door, hearing a creaking noise, and watched as it slammed shut. It clicked when the door’s striker found its home. David’s cool breath felt even colder when the sweat that was beginning to form even in the cool room started dripping down his face. He looked back to Tony and yelled, “Tony, what are you doing? What kind of joke are you and your brother trying to play on me? You better speak up now, boy, or you’re going to get a whooping like you didn’t know ever existed.”
A laughing, which sounded more like a growling came from beneath the bed. A small, white, pale hand slowly came out from under it followed by the other. His shaggy brown hair hung down in front of him; the red eyes that had haunted the man were gone, and David felt momentarily relieved, but even more intent now to beat the boy. He got up off his ass and gripped the boy’s shoulder, ready to bring down the leather belt. When he tried to move his arm nothing happened.
The boy looked up slowly, the red in his eyes had gone nowhere, and had only intensified. “Tony, how are you doing that?”
In a voice that could have been from a forty-year-old chain smoker, he said, “The boy is ours. You must leave, Davey.”
“Don’t you disrespect me, boy. Nobody—and I mean nobody—calls me Davey and walks away from it. What in the hell was that voice? You know damn well where back-talking is going to get you, now don’t you?”
Tony smiled. “Your daddy used to call you Davey, didn’t he? You don’t like your boys because they remind you of your own father, Albert, and how he would beat you until you were nearly in a coma, isn’t that right, Davey?”
David looked at the boy and could not have been more confused. No one had called him Davey since his own father, who most certainly had beaten him until he’d been killed in a drunk driving accident when David was not much older than Billy. No one knew his dad’s name in his family, because the past stayed that way, which was where he liked it. He screamed and spittle flew from his mouth; a rage was building in him that even he worried might not be able to be put away. “Who the fuck told you his name? No one says that name to me you little bastard. How’d you learn his name?” David punched the floor, waiting for the answer that he wasn’t going to like.
“When you are as old as we are, you are able to learn many things.”
“What the hell are you talking about, ‘as old as we are’? You aren’t even five years old yet.”
“This is your last chance to leave, Davey. There will be no further discussion. You are unworthy and do not belong here.”
David brought back the belt with every intention of it leaving as many marks as he could on his son. “I'm gonna teach you some respect, and only one of us is going to enjoy it, boy.”
The boy rose his hand, smiling. Billy sprinted up the stairs, the pan clattering on the railing as he made his way up. His heart dropped for his brother an
d his fears rose, knowing what his dad could and would do in this state. He ran down the short hallway dropping the pan and letting it skid as he dove for the door, missing it just as it closed.
Billy started hammering and kicking on the door screaming to be let in. He punched at it until he had nothing to punch it with. The room was quiet, and he did not know if that was a good or bad thing. Billy was panting heavily, ignoring the fact that he could see his breath. He closed his eyes, saying a prayer of hope for his brother.
A thud against the wall, and then another, brought him back from his temporary thought that he was okay, and broke his heart. He could only imagine his brother’s small frame and knew it could not take a beating like that, not yet anyways. The thud was relentless and sounded as if it was hitting every wall in the room. Billy screamed, “Stop it, Dad, stop now! I’m gonna call the cops, Dad; you’re going to get thrown in jail. Leave him alone, he’s too little, beat me!”
The door slammed back and he dropped to his knees, screaming for his dad to leave the boy alone. “Please stop, Dad!”
The door unexpectedly opened and his father was standing next to the wall. His brother was sitting on the bed, not a single drop of blood was on his face. A relief like he’d never experienced in his young life ran through him. “Oh, thank you God, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”
He looked at his dad, seeing his eyes weren’t actually open, and when he assessed him, saw he was not standing there, but he was actually a few inches taller than usual. He looked down at his feet, seeing only the tips of his toes were touching the ground—and just barely at that. He stopped worrying about everything, because confusion took over. “What... what is going on, Tony?”
His brother looked to him, his red eyes glowing in the darkened room. In the deep voice he said, “This man is unworthy of this dwelling.”
“Tony, what is wrong with your voice?”
The boy twitched his hands and his father’s arms began to rise, seemingly by some sort of magic, for it was the best description he could think of that wasn’t the Devil’s doing. His father looked up, and it was immediately made clear that the slamming and smashing of items in the room had been his dad’s body being flung carelessly and without worry for his well-being. His dad’s face was scraped up and down each side; blood had stained the front of his shirt. When he opened his mouth to plead for help, desperate for any that would listen, teeth could be shown missing from his mouth. Tony raised his hand again, and the nails that were on the floor began to rise. Billy ran to the doorway screaming for his mother. “Ma, ma, you need to get up here, there’s something wrong… there’s something really, really wrong! Are you there? Can you hear me?”
Joan heard an echo that sounded like Billy, but felt like she was underground when she heard it, or possibly underwater. She looked around blinking seeing only unfocused images. “What in the lord happened?”
Joan sat up slowly, seeing a liquor bottle that was empty on the table, and saw blood on the floor in front of her. It came rushing back to her at once that she had tried to defend herself when that son of a bitch had thrown her into the oven. She still very much had her head in the clouds and pushed up from the floor, falling back down at first. She’d experienced the same feelings before when being kicked in the ribs by her husband.
Joan gripped the tabletop, pulling herself up, falling back to a knee, and then taking a second for her legs to come back around. The screaming came back to her and broke its way through the current confusion she was experiencing. She forced herself to get up from the ground. “I'm coming, Billy. I'm coming baby, just hold on, please.” She looked to the counter, pulling an old chef’s knife from the wood holder for it. She staggered upstairs, still trying to keep her balance.
The one in control of Tony heard her coming and sped up the punishment. David looked groggily at the floating objects. Tony flicked his hands, almost looking like he was pushing in the nails all at once. They tore through David’s palms. Billy cringed watching this, and was mesmerized by all of it. “How, Tony… why, no—how?”
His baby brother looked up to him, smiling. “Tony isn’t here right now.”
“Who are you, what are you?”
“Soldiers have no name, boy. You have no knowledge that would make you understand.”
“What kind of soldier are you, are you Tony’s guardian angel?”
The boy tilted his head back, letting out a laugh filled with insanity. “God does not care for me, boy.”
David cleared his throat and said, “Tony, son, you don’t have to do this; you don’t have to do this to Dad. You can let me go, and I’ll just leave.”
The boy walked forward. “You’ll just leave the family alone, Davey, like you had done to you all those years ago?”
“Yeah, you’ll never see me again. Just don’t hurt me anymore, please, I’m begging you!”
“We can’t just let you leave without any fun; we won’t be satisfied.”
“But I’ll leave, I’ll never bother them again.”
“I can make sure you never bother them again.”
Billy screamed, “What are you talking about, that God doesn’t like you? I don’t understand!”
Tony used his other hand, lifting it and his brother with it. He flung his hand towards the wall, sending Billy flying with it. He propelled him into the wall where he hit, and he hit hard. Billy slumped to the floor and watched as everything went to black. The last thing he heard was his father screaming at the top of his lungs as the nails slowly pierced his palms a half inch at a time. He pleaded for his freedom, but the boy only ignored them.
Joan could hear the screaming and the talking, but it would not register. She’d heard herself and her boys plenty of times begging for help and for David to leave them alone. Not once had she ever heard him scream or cry while he was awake. The only time he’d ever sounded in pain had been when he was sleeping and the nightmares of Vietnam had plagued his dreams. It was the only time in all of their marriage she’d heard him in pain, but it had gotten lesser over the years. The screaming stopped at once and when she made it near the door; he flung it shut again in her face.
She started pounding on it and screamed, “David! David, please, they’re your sons, leave them be! Leave them alone, they’re only babies.” She pounded on the door until it finally opened. She screamed, jumping back a foot, confused that no one was standing at the door. She fully expected a leather belt to be coming down towards her the instant that it opened.
Joan ran into the room, worrying more about her son’s safety than her own, the sign of any good parent. She saw Tony standing near the bed and did the sign of the cross that he was okay. She started screaming, “No,” when she saw Billy slouched in the corner, not moving. “Billy! Billy, are you okay, baby? What’d he do to you, what happened?”
Billy lay there, unresponsive. She looked for her husband seeing him standing; or as she settled a bit, saw he was actually levitating and just barely conscious at this point. The sight of her husband bloodied was most definitely not one she’d seen before, nor expected. He would lose money, oh lord the man could lose money, she thought, but he did not ever lose a fight; it didn’t matter who it was, or how many there were. If they bested him, then they’d best move out of town, because he would come back again and again until he had gotten whatever revenge he felt that he’d deserved, or debt they owed him paid.
Tony, in his deep voice, began laughing and flicked his hand, pulling David midair from the wall, leaving a trail of blood from his hands. He brought his hand around, sending the man flying through the air. David screamed from the excruciating pain in his hands and again when he collided with the wall in the hallway. He smashed into a set of frames they’d hung of the boys. The glass shattered and fell to the ground, covering David, who lay broken and confused on the floor. He yelled, “My arm, my arm, it’s broke, that boy is possessed by the Devil.”
She watched David cautiously for a moment. He lay there bleeding and
screaming in pain, trying to hold his arm in a way that didn’t make pain race through it. She gasped when she saw the bone sticking out of the side of his forearm. He got up, stumbling to the stairs. He left a blood trail as he made his way down them. He held the banister with his good hand, making his way down slowly, not trusting his feet to do their job.
David made his way out into the street; only a few bystanders gawked at the bloody mess that was David Parker. He looked around, knowing no one would help him if he was on fire and they could save him by putting him out with their piss. He’d burnt every bridge, he could and always had done so. The only friends that he had were not the ones that you would want to have or to try to count on in a time of need. He stumbled down the street. It would be the last time that the two boys would have him as a father in their life.
Joan did the sign of the cross, watching in shock herself, now. Joan screamed at the top of her lungs, her screams filled the home. No knock from the next door neighbor came, they all knew to stay out of other people’s business. She scooped up Billy the best that she could; the ten-year-old had gone through another growth spurt that summer and she’d been thankful he’d only been needing to wear short pants all summer long. She looked deeply at Tony as she moved past seeing the red glow in his eyes. She said, “Tony, honey, can you come back to Momma? Can you come back, baby?”
The light seemed to intensify for a moment as she walked towards him. The crosses that both Billy and Joan wore hung out in front of them. The light in the young boy's eyes slowly started to dissipate. When the beast subsided, Tony looked around, not seeming to remember going there in the first place. Tears started to well up in his eyes before he finally completely broke down and screamed for his mother. “Mommy, what happened to you? What’s wrong with Billy? Why isn’t Billy moving, Mommy? Did Daddy do that?”
She let out a breath; it felt like she had been holding it in her lungs for hours. “Oh, thank God! Tony, what was that? What happened to you honey?”