Chapter Eighteen
Hayes
“Liv!” I shout across the parking lot when I see the familiar brown ponytail bouncing up the steps towards the school.
She whips around at the sound of my voice, searching through the other students to find me. She’s always had a way of sensing me.
“What are you doing here?” She looks stricken, glancing around as she jogs up to the no-parking zone where I’m leaning against my dirt bike.
“I haven’t seen you in almost two weeks. I was starting to forget what you look like,” I smile easily at her, but my cheeks grow heavy when she doesn’t return my enthusiasm.
“I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy for me?”
She huffs a curt breath. “Believe it or not, Hayes, I have a life outside of you.”
“Ouch.” I rub my chest, and she squeezes her eyes shut in regret.
“I’m sorry. I’ve just been stressed with school stuff and getting all of my college applications submitted by the deadline. I’ve been here more than I’ve been home.”
“You could’ve called me. I’d come sit with you, or help you fill out forms.”
“I know, thank you, but I have a friend helping me. They’re in the same boat, getting college apps in.”
They. So it’s a guy friend. A guy who is smart like she is. Going to college like she will.
“My mom’s been asking about you. My dad will be out of town next week, and she wanted to have you over for dinner.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve been swamped with this stuff.” She waves distractedly at the high school building.
“Right, I get it. I’ll let her know, we can wait a while.”
“Okay, thank her for the offer for me.” She finally smiles at me, but it’s softer than normal, and doesn’t feel as familiar. “I’m glad you’ll have a week off from dealing with your dad, though.”
For a moment, we stare at each other because minimizing my terrible relationship with my father to that singular sentence feels… Wrong. “Yeah, me too.”
She takes a step back and nods, starting to turn away from me.
“You know I’m always here for you, Liv. For anything, no matter what.”
Another soft smile stretches her cheeks. “I know.”
She walks back towards the entrance to the school, and I watch her as the air she normally breathes into me is sucked away until I’m nearly suffocating.
* * *
Present…
Death has been on my mind my entire life. Even as a small child, I recall begging God to take away my suffering. I couldn’t handle any more pain.
One particular instance, after my father beat me with his belt and locked me in the hall closet, I vividly remember imagining all the ways I would kill myself.
All the ways that a seven-year-old boy could conceptualize.
Jumping off the roof of our trailer seemed like a good option at the time, though in reality, I would have been lucky to escape with a broken bone or two from that unexceptional height.
Running away always felt like an option, but even as a kid, I couldn’t fathom leaving my mom. I lived with a monster, but I needed my mommy.
One early morning after a brutal beating from my old man, I walked right across the closest two-lane highway near the trailer park, praying a car would take me out.
I was eight.
People knew. My teachers, my friends. But no one did anything.
Why would they? I was a troublemaker, and he was one of the boys in blue.
I’d get in fights at school, unleashing my raging emotions on bullies who reminded me of my dad.
I’d end up in the principal’s office, but no one cared why I did it. They didn’t ask me why a fifth grader knew how to throw a right hook so well.
My father would sign me out, promising to work with me at home, and then beat me until I was purple.
Eventually, as puberty approached, and I got bigger, my dad couldn’t lay his hands on me without feeling the exertion. I wouldn’t flinch at his fists. In fact, I could take quite a few punches without ever losing my balance.
That pissed him off, and it made him drink more, take it out on my mom more.
But that wasn’t acceptable, so I played along. I would let him think that he hurt me. I’d pull away and try to dodge his evil, but I always let him get his final blow.
Once the fighting got so bad that the school complained to the local police department, and my dad’s job was on the line, he put me in karate. Not to help me, but to justify to his coworkers that he was a good father.
Luckily, it did help. Through the initial apprehension, I found a safe place for the first time in my life. I was surrounded by kids who were like me, channeling their emotions and budding hormones into a physical escape.
My sensei was the first positive adult role model that I ever had. He listened without judging, taught me without critique, and shaped the man that I would eventually become.
I finally stopped fighting and started flourishing in school. I even went my entire Freshman year of high school without getting into any disciplinary trouble.
I was still seen as a troubled teen, but I didn’t care. I found purpose in martial arts, and I was fulfilled for the first time in my life.
It made my dad angrier. He’d hit me harder and spew vile remarks at me because he knew he couldn’t affect me physically. So he attacked me mentally.
I was still left with the bruises.
My sensei was the first person to see the truth behind the marks.
He went to the police behind my back to report his concerns, but it only made everything worse. My father’s harassment spread to the karate dojo.
He left parking tickets, placed speed traps, and even went as far as accusing my sensei of being a pervert.
Unfortunately, since he had offered me refuge, it didn’t look good from the outside, and the burden of public opinion ultimately meant he couldn’t keep the business afloat.
He shut the studio down, but he never blamed me.
He wrote me a letter, begging me to find a path that would lead me towards good. To only fight when it means I’m standing up for what is right.
And, at the end of it, he asked that I forgive him.
The day after I received the letter, I found out he hanged himself in his office.
The false accusations and the bankruptcy brought him too much shame, and he couldn’t live with it.
I blamed my father for all of it, but no one believed me.
I carried the burden of his death and lost myself.
Any wrong move by anyone, and I was taking it out on them with my fists, again.
Getting expelled and being forced to restart my senior year was nearly my final straw. I couldn’t handle it.
I planned to leave a note for the administrators, like the one my sensei left me.
Except I wanted them to know exactly how their lack of action killed one of their students. I wanted them to know I blamed them.
Then I saw the new girl standing at the bus stop, shivering in the early light of dawn, and I forgot briefly why I was so angry.
I worried about her being cold, and she made me laugh.
Looking at her, I knew there wasn’t evil in every single person because she was good. She was a beacon of light when all the paths in my future were utterly dark.
So I went home, crumpling my final ‘fuck you’ up and set it on fire in the sink. I watched it burn until it turned to ash, and washed it down the drain.
Then I went to my room and dug my box of reminders out from under my bed. My martial arts trophies. My black belt. And, my Noble Paths Karate sweatshirt.
I never intended to wear it again. It was two sizes too small, and the words were mostly gone, but I knew when I held it up that it no longer belonged to me. I didn’t need it as a reminder of all the lessons I learned.
I needed it to guide me towards the future I wanted.
Olive was everything to me. She was the only person who wept for me when she saw the monster that I lived with.
She was the only one who cared.
Then I lost her, and the desire to end it all never felt heavier.
I nearly never saw outside of those prison walls again.
I had to remind myself every day that I needed to live.
Now, I have a particular desire to drive off a bridge. Not because I want to die, but because life can’t get any better than this.
I finally have Liv back. Not completely, not enough, but I have her back in my life. She has her arms wrapped around my waist, and I can feel the warmth of her cheek against my back.
This could be the best I’ll ever have.
But I’ll keep living for her.
It’s the only reason I’ve ever had.