A Change of Pace

I rediscovered a bit of old prose and thought sharing might make for a nice changeup. The sad tale is quasi biographical. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Internal Injuries

Kyle wiped an angry tear from his eye. He was twenty years old now, an adult, and had kept a vow to defend himself since he turned fifteen. High school bullies broke his nose more than once but he always ended the fight victorious.

So how is this shit still happening? he wondered.

It’s not like he could fight back, though. His mother deserved better. It was bad enough she witnessed her husband’s violent tendencies. Kyle’s fingernails dented his palms whenever he considered what he would do if the bastard ever raised a hand to her.

The pair’s relationship improved when Kyle began computer programming for the family business. When he asked for a shift change or at least a pay raise for working the only hours he could regularly see his girlfriend, the fragile fraternal respect crumbled.

“You can’t keep a job without me,” Kyle Senior barked, shoving his son backward. “You’re a worthless dreamer.”

The sudden vicious attack slammed him into a wooden cabinet, its sharp corner impacting his left shoulder blade. Kyle turned away before his face contorted and he stalked out of the house, finding refuge in his car.

With a low fuel tank and little cash, he basically idled to a nearby park. There in the dark he turned off the engine and punched the steering wheel until his scarred knuckles felt bruised as his back.

His old man wasn’t entirely wrong. Kyle’s beloved begged him to stop searching for that ‘perfect’ job and stand up to any employer, his father included, who took advantage of his naïve enthusiasm. Perhaps then, she claimed, their combined resources might afford them a tiny apartment.

His current paltry salary made that hope impossible. Kyle snorted and shook his head, grimacing at the sharp pain it sparked. Sonya couldn’t know about this. His ego battered enough, her finding out he’d been a punching bag tonight was unthinkable.

Nor would he cancel their next night’s date no matter how much his family pressured him to work his one night off. Pained experience taught him he’d hurt worse by then but somehow he’d hide it, even if that meant avoiding intimacy. Sonya must accept exhaustion as the cause.

Once home he slipped downstairs to his room, avoiding his brother’s eyes as they passed. He sunk back into the saggy mattress and stared at the ceiling. It was going to be a long night.

~~~

Why is it that domestic abusers often target one offspring among siblings? Would you be interested in reading more (occasional) prose here?

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