“Kendal Calvin”

I arrived at my door. It was slightly cracked open. I knew from prior experience that this was not a good sign. I felt like throwing up. I pushed the door open and peeked in. The apartment was quiet.

“Please God, let her be passed out.” I prayed to myself about my alcoholic aunt Elsie.

I slowly made my way through the corridor. As I approached the kitchen hallway, my heart rate went berserk. I was only in the third grade and I was already having panic attacks. The moment of truth was coming up. I looked inside the kitchen and there she was staring at me. Her hair unruly, all over the place, wearing the same floral pattern housedress she wore daily with a cigerette in one hand and a tall glass of Barcardi dark in the other. On top of the table was a half gallon bottle, a thick suede/leather belt and a large plastic bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Oh my God.” My heart sunk and I wanted to cry on the spot.

“Take of your clothes and go in the bath tub.” She commanded with evil arched eyebrows.

“But he hit me first. What do you want me to do?”

“Shut up and do as I tell you.”

“Nooooo. Please, Mom...please. I didn’t do anything. It wasn’t my fault. I promise!”

“Don’t make me tell you again, Vincent. Taking off your fucking clothes...NOW!!!”

Elsie banged her fists on the table. I froze not knowing what to do. I thought about making a bolt for the door but it was raining out and the last time I ran away I almost froze to death overnight in the park. But still, I knew what was coming. I suddenly ran for her bedroom and crawled underneath her bed.

“You motherfucker!” I heard her scream from the kitchen. She was coming my way. I held my breathe, hoping she could not detect me.

“You think I’m stupid? You have to wake up pretty early in the morning to fool me!” She yelled from too near by.

“Please God...please...don’t let her get me.”

Suddenly the bed moved from above me. I wasn’t covered by darkness anymore. I snap of the belt unexpectedly hit my back and stung me. I screamed at the top of my lungs, hoping that maybe one of my next door neighbors would knock on the door to investigate and save me.

I got up and climbed over the bed, pushing past Elsie. She grabbed one of my arms but I managed to yank away. I thought about running into my cousin Alfred’s room but it was too small. I ran into the living room which was spacious enough to dart around her and escape her. Even with stomach Cancer and being drunk, Elsie was strong but she wasn’t fast.

“How dare you? Get into the bathroom now!”

“Noooo. Please. I’m begging you.”

“You should have thought about before you fought. You like to fight?”

“He was attacking me.”

Elsie lunged at me and I dipped her and then I heard the worst thing that I could have heard that moment. My uncle Ernie walked into the apartment.

“Ma, I’m home.”

“Help me, Pa. Vincent pushed me.:”

Ernie entered the living room looking like a wet alley cat. I was fucked. I tried to dart past them, but Ernie caught me me by my shirt and grabbed me by a lock of my hair. Elsie whipped me with the buckle of the belt about five times nonstop, causing red welts and broken skin. I screamed uncontrollably.

“Shut the fuck up!” They screamed at me as they hit me more times with the belt. I went through this at least three to four times a week but I could never get used to it. The two dragged me kicking and screaming into the bathroom. Ernie tore off my clothes as Elsie turned on the shower. I was pushed in. The water stung me. My little body was going into convulsuions. My nervous system was out of whack. Elsie whipped me no less than thirty times before she shut off the water. She left the bathroom. Ernie stayed watching me. He didn’t say anything. I glared at him with hate.

“You want more?”

“Leave me alone!”

Elsie returned with the bottle of rubbing alcohol. She slowly poured the whole bottle all over me. I fliped and flopped like a fish out of water and as much and loud as I screamed, nobody came to save me. Nobody cared. Not even God.

“Go to bed. No dinner.” Elsie ordered. No dinner was the least of my problems. In bed, I cried for hours and hours. I was in hell and all I wanted to do was not be alive.

It was Friday. Most kids my age love Fridays, but I hated them. It meant that I couldn’t escape Elsie and Ernie for not even ten minutes. I fell asleep thinking about the day and wondering what have I done to deserve this life. I felt very sorry for myself.

That morning Kendal Calvin was picking on me all morning in class. Kendal was a black kid with what seemed like hundreds of little nicks and scars all over his face. He was a tough kid and even in third grade, he was already muscular. I sat with the nerds and he picked on all of us, but because I had a speech impediment, he especially loved to pick on me. He used to love to fake punches and make me flinch. Still, he was no match for the terror I faced at home. But on this particular day, he was out of control.

I went to the dumpsters by the school yard to find the new born Calico kittens that I visited daily since they were born dead with broken necks. Before I could fully register what someone had done to my pets, Kendal had greeted me.

“I killed those motherfuckers, pussy. What are you gonna do about it.”

I just stared at him in shock, not knowing what to say or how to respond. He suddenly stompped on one of the kittens head. I closed my eyes at the sight and shoved him. Kendal started punching me. I fought back but not well. Some teachers came and broke up the fight.

During class that morning, kendall assualted me with spitballs nonstop while sending notes that he was going to fuck me up at lunch. For some reason lunch felt like it came faster than usual.

Kendal ran ahead of everybody. I was the last kid to leave the classroom with my two nerd friends, an Asian boy and a fat white firl with pig tails.

“Don’t worry, Vincent. Everything will be okay.” The white girl tried to assure me. I looked at her like she was retarded. Everything was not going to be okay.

Going down the staircase to the lunchroom, some kids ran back up to warn me that Kendal was waiting for me around the corner on the next staircase. I was sick and tired of it all. Ready, I snuck around the corner and there was Kendal. His face evil. I kicked him as hard as I could and he fell backwards down the stairs. He didn’t finished tumbling to the bottem before I was kicking and stomping him with all my might, crazed, letting out years of rage as I screamed at the top of my lungs. The only thing Kendal was able to do was curl up into a ball. I had no intentions of stopping. The other kids cheered me on, making me want to kick and stomp Kendal harder and harder. The motherfucker. Some teachers came and pulled me off him. They knew me and was shocked at my behavior. I was normally a pretty passive kid until this incident. I cried in anger. I wanted to kill the boy.

Both Kendal and I were escorted to the principal, Mr. Kaplan’s office. Both our parents were called and warned that any further fighting would result in suspension. I glared at Kendal. I knew very well what was coming to me once I got home and it was all his fault.

Throughout the weekend I was beaten several times, but I lived through it. Monday morning came and as soon as my school bus arrived, Barbabra the fat blond dyke bus driver with buck teeth informed me that Kendal died over the weekend.

“For real?” I asked, not believing her.

“Yes Mayta. The boy is dead. His own friggin’ mother killed him.”

“For real?” I repeated, still not believing her.

“For fucking real!” Barbabra yelled at me. “He’s dead.”

“Oh shit.”

I walked towards the back of the bus, not knowing quite how to feel. Unaware that certein emotions had shut down on me for the rest of my life.

Posted on January 31, 2008 at 07:15 PM   |   Previous Entry   |   Next Entry   |   Entry List   |   Email Entry   |    Digg

Responses to this entry
There are 9 total comments about this entry. The most recent comment was posted 6 months, 4 weeks ago...

Add a comment
Please keep your comment on topic.