Breaking to Breathe Read online

  “Kyle, what are you doing?” The blood froze in his veins as his father and brother walked in the house from the side door, each carrying a bag stamped with the logo from the local hardware store. Chocolate smudges gathered in the corners of Nixon’s mouth, evidence of the ice cream he must have convinced dad to buy him if he stayed quiet while they shopped. Nixon’s eyes wide with the mischievousness of a nine year old ready to rule the world. He waved to Kyle showing off his gap-tooth smile.

  The groans coming from the garage picked up, faster, breathier. The feminine squeals and giggles got louder as the sounds resonated through the door. Kyle felt his insides turn to cement as he stood panicked and watched the color rise in his father’s face.

  “D…dad, ummm.” He didn’t know what to do or what to say.

  “Move out of my way, Kyle,” his father roared, using unrestrained strength to toss Kyle aside. Kyle’s teeth chattered in his mouth as he hit the ground precisely the same moment his dad entered the garage. The anger and humiliation he felt rolling off his father as he growled his mother’s name felt just as heavy as the lead pit in his stomach. The pit doubled in size when he witnessed the landscaper running past him, apologizing profusely as he pulled up his pants and left the house.

  Picking himself up from the floor, Kyle ran to his little brother, who was standing stone still in the kitchen, his mouth no longer curved up and happiness no longer present on his innocent face. “Go outside, Nix, and wait for me to come and find you.” His brother stared quietly as the yelling increased just feet away behind the door of the garage. “Nixon, go. NOW!” He watched as his little brother left the house and the chaos.

  Kyle knew. As the screaming between his parents amped up once again, something in his gut warned him that things in his already fragile world were about to get worse. The relief he felt only minutes before had vaporized, long forgotten, when the sounds of his father’s shouts were followed with the slaps of flesh hitting flesh. His mother’s angry screams turned to despite cries as the thwaps came harder and faster. While his father had spoken cruelly and unkindly to all of them, he’d never known his father to hit his mother. Kyle wrapped his arms around himself, wondering what he should do. Fear and helplessness bloomed in his chest.

  How could she have done this to him? To them? As her cries became garbled wails, tears rolled down Kyle’s cheeks. He needed to help his mother. He loved her. She’d never let anything happen to her children. But what could he do? He needed to think fast...

  “Mom!” Kyle knifed up, his sheets tangled around his lower body and his skin covered in a light sheen of perspiration. “Fuck!” He peered around the darkened room, familiarity setting in as his eyes immediately landed on the green digital numbers reading 2:30AM. “Fuck,” he repeated. Running his fingers through his gelled into submission spiked hair, he took measured breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to slow the rapid beating of his heart. Unlike his many lovers, his nightmares were something he never learned to control. Each deep breath caused an ache in the still healing ribs that had suffered a near fatal beating only a mere four months before.

  “What’s wrong, baby? You need some more lovin’?” The nasally voice coming from his left was attached to his latest conquest. He would’ve laughed at the term, conquest, but his head was still too messed up from his dream to find any humor in the chick lying next to him. Hell, she was so easy he didn’t even need to leave the apartment in order to get her to fuck him. No, this wasn’t a conquest. She was like every other cheap whore, just wanting to have a piece of him.

  His buddy Lars sent her over bearing pizza and beer as a “congratulations on your freedom” gift, of sorts.

  He had spent the month of January on house arrest as punishment for his DUI back in November. The good ole’ state of Pennsylvania had waited until he was healthy enough to really appreciate being on lock down. But as of five p.m., the sentence was over.

  Nixon, his brother, a decorated police officer, had been granted permission to come to his apartment with the probation officer and remove the electronic monitoring bracelet from his ankle instead of him having to go to the police station. He knew Nix must have called in favors to make that miracle happen, and his gratitude to his little brother was endless. But in the months since his accident and subsequent incarceration, he’d not only stayed caged in his apartment but also in his mind. As of today, he was free man. Yet after Nixon left, Kyle had no desire to follow suit. Hence the knock at his door around nine that night.

  Lars sent over the buxom blonde with take-out and a message explaining that Janelle, the blonde currently in his bed, had been a regular customer at Danny’s on Main and an adoring Kyle Marx fan. She was only too willing to be the first to welcome him back to life on the outside. The note explained that the bar bunny had excitedly agreed to all the terms of Kyle’s one-night-bangs; therefore, she’d been blissfully silent until he asked her to speak, eagerly willing to be bound to his bed and fucked in whatever way he desired.

  It was no secret he had his fetishes. They varied from interaction to interaction, chick to chick, but one thing always stayed the same. He liked to degrade the girls. It was a game to him, coming up with new ways to debase them, and each time when he thought he’d finally pushed the line with one, five new chicks would line up waiting for their turn. It was their turn to tame the beast; their turn to heal the wounded man inside the beautiful package, but screw them, he didn’t need their aid. He just needed a warm mouth, a hot pussy, or a tight ass—someplace to wet his dick until his mind went numb and his body was spent. One of the life lessons his father taught him, women were useless twits, good for only one thing…fucking. And once that part was over, they were just as worthless as his and Nixon’s mother…just as worthless as he and Nixon themselves. There was no learning curve in the Marx household. They attained the knowledge the first time, because the beating their father dished out was something impossible to forget.

  Twenty-four years and countless women later, he came to realize his father may have been a heartless son-of-a-bitch, but he wasn’t necessarily wrong about women. Now, at thirty-four, Kyle knew that most of chicks had opened their legs without question or concern, accepting horrible treatment and ridiculous stipulations, while few had ever had the self-respect or back bone to walk away. He grunted, thinking to himself, Don’t you dare agree with anything that asshole said. He should rot in hell. Kyle shook his head in the dark, trying to push the unwelcome thoughts far from his mind.

  “Kyle,” the whiney voice cut through the darkness again. “Do you need some more Nelly lovin’? I can give your cock a little kiss.” That nasally voice grated on his nerves as long fake fingernails ran down his abdomen, lower and lower, their destination clear. He shivered in revulsion as her touch made his skin crawl with disgust.

  With the anesthetized feeling long gone, his mind was working over time trying to piece to together how it was possible that she was still there …with him. He never fell asleep with them still in his bed. Usually, once the fun was over, so was their time together. He really hit the whiskey hard before she arrived. Lord knows, he had to finish the bottle to push through the horrible excuse of a blow job she offered. He stopped that sloppy mess after a few minutes, flipped her over on her belly, fucked her ass, blew his load, and then must have passed out.

  Now, awake from the hell that plagued his sleep and shrouded in the blackness with a pair of clammy hands pawing at his chilled skin and making his dick shrivel, he cursed the damn Jack Daniels. The woman with the voice that resembled that of a chain-smoker with a sinus infection was now breaking the silence of his sanctuary, and he needed to remove her from his apartment. Immediately! Even better yet, he was finally free to leave.

  “Did you come?” He didn’t bother to hide the terse sound of his voice in the question he already knew the answer to.

  “You know I did, baby,” Sinus Infection cooed.

  “Good.” He was already out of his bed, quickly s
liding into his track pants. “Then get gone. I don’t want you here when I return.” He grabbed blindly for the sweatshirt he left on the floor by the foot of his bed the day before, throwing it over his head.

  “But…but…” He couldn’t see the chick lying in his bed, but he knew from previous experiences that her eyes were probably bulging with horror as she tried to form the words that would make him take his order back.

  “Yeah, toots, seen it. Tapped it. Don’t need the re-play. Seriously, I want you out. Don’t bother leaving any of your things here, ‘cause you’re not coming back.” He grabbed his wallet and cell phone and headed for the door.

  “Kyle Marx, you’re a fucking—” The door clicked closed behind him before heard the end of Sinus Infection’s comment. As if I haven’t heard it before, he shrugged and headed out onto the dark streets of Charistown. He was finally free and…alone.

  Something Fruity

  “HOLD ON. I’M coming!” Hurried footfalls pounding on the floor on the opposite side of the front door reminded Kyle that he probably should have called before just showing up on her doorstep in the middle of the night, but it was too late. He was already here, and she was already rushing towards the door, unknowing what awaited her on the opposite side. “Just a second…hang on.” Lyla’s voice sounded just shy of frantic, but as the heavy door jarred opened, he saw uncertainty flash across her ocean blue eyes; eyes that mirrored his own fatigue, eyes that slowly squinted in confusion as they stared questioningly into his, waiting for an explanation for the spontaneous visit.

  “Kyle, are you okay? It’s three in the morning.” Lyla’s gaze traveled his frame from head to toe, landing back on his face. “You seem okay,” she mumbled, seemingly more to herself than to him. “You can’t be here. Jesus, you’re gonna land yourself in more trouble. You only have, what, a day or two left before you can legally leave your house?” Her shoulders were tense and her jaw clenched. He could tell she wanted to freak out, yell at him for his reckless behavior. But instead, she did what she had been doing since his accident. She inhaled deeply, schooled her expression into a calm passive glance and continued simply, “Okay, stay put. I’ll grab my keys and take you home. Hopefully that ankle bracelet hasn’t alerted anyone yet…” Her eyes grew large as realization struck. “Wait, how is it that the police haven’t arrived and carted your ass to the station?”

  Finally taking his own deep breath, what felt like the first he had taken in months, he peered at his friend and felt the smile spreading over his lips. “Sentence served, Ly. I’m officially a free man.” Free, a term he’d use loosely, he had yet to feel free a day in his life. Seeing Lyla’s shoulders sag in understanding showed Kyle once again how much her friendship had come to mean to him. He didn’t deserve her unwavering loyalty, but he was happy as hell to have it.

  “Well, what are you standing out there for?” Lyla’s once panicked voice softened, and now held the familiar sarcasm he had grown to admire. “I’ve spent months visiting your banged up and then incarcerated ass in your stinky ‘did something die in here’ apartment. So come on in, take a look around, and see if you can jog your memory on how sanitary adults live.” She rose to her tip-toes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek before adding, “Besides, your couch has missed you.” She winked as she moved behind him. He heard the clicking of the locks and the scratching of the chain being re-engaged as he walked further into Lyla’s cozy home.

  “My place isn’t that bad,” he tried unsuccessfully to show a hurt expression. “I’ve kept the cleaning person Janie forced upon me after my accident.”

  He carefully reclined on the soft, plush sofa. His body was still sore from the accident and stiff from having practically jumped out of bed trying to escape his nightmares, both the one in his dreams and the one lying next to him. But since arriving at Lyla’s, peace and tranquility ebbed through him. Something about her sofa helped him sleep, or maybe it was Lyla herself. He wasn’t certain, but since the day they met, more than a year prior, Kyle had always found comfort in Lyla’s presence.

  Well, almost always. There was that one time when instead of seeking comfort he sought pain and instead of being a friend he was a vicious ass. Christ, that Sunday dinner would forever be one of his biggest regrets. He scoffed. He harbored a lot of bitterness, but that night, that fucking night… Even though it was almost a year ago, it still gutted him every time he thought about it. God, how he wished he could take it back. Just erase the pain he put in Lyla’s electric blue pooled eyes.

  “We know everyone loves you. We know you love yourself. It’s the world according to Lyla Dalton. You always need to put your two cents into everyone else’s business. And speaking of cents…yes, Lyla, we know you have money. Jesus, can you rub it in our faces any more than you already do?”

  He scrubbed his hands over his stubbled face. He couldn’t think of that tonight, not without remembering what happened before arriving at her house that fateful night. He’d learned that his mother who not only walked out on her family, abandoning him and his brother while leaving them penniless, and never once looking back, had reunited and was remarried to his father for more than ten years. The man she couldn’t get away from fast enough, she left her sons with. His father, who’d abused them emotionally and physically every single day. The same person who taught his sons to hate not just their mother but women in general until the day he, too, left them when they were only teenagers. They had been apart for years and somehow found their way back to each other living together as a couple for over a decade. Yeah, they’d spent their time happily fucking each other’s brains out but never gave either of their sons any thought at all.

  Nor had he of them either, until one particular Sunday night.

  That was the night Nixon came by his apartment with a manila folder and a frown. His brother explained that he’d been searching for their parents for quite a while, wondering how two people could just disappear the way they did. Dread flooded Kyle’s mind as Nixon’s words penetrated slowly.

  “Why the hell would you care what happened to them? Hopefully they’re both dead.” The ice in Kyle’s tone clearly surprised his kid brother, but he realized that his dark feelings no longer surprised him. The hate he felt towards his parents was deep, dark, and pure.

  “Bro, you don’t really feel that way.” Nixon’s firm tone displayed how truly different the brothers had grown to be. For a brief second, Kyle was proud. He was proud that his brother had kept some of his soul intact after the hell they’d lived, and in a way, Kyle felt maybe, just maybe, he had something to do with it. Maybe all of the beatings, all of the burns, slices, belt slashes, and emotional brow-beating he took on his brother’s behalf allowed Nixon to escape with his heart, because Kyle had lost his. If that was in fact the truth, he was grateful. But his hate was a living, breathing monster residing inside his body, consuming his soul, and there was no escaping.

  “Nix, just tell me what’s in the file and what you need from me. You know I’ll help you in any way I can.”

  His brother’s eyes widened. Hope was written all over his face. “Well, I found them, Ky. And I spoke to mom. Dad is really sick…liver failure…” There was no reason to further explain that diagnosis. The man was a drunk, plain and simple.

  “He doesn’t have much time, and Mom is a mess. She says that she wanted to contact us so many times over the years, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, because…” Nixon paused, his eyes met the floor.

  “Spit it out, Nix.” The anger seething from Kyle’s tone was almost unrecognizable.

  “She admitted to me that she had cheated on Dad several times, in fact, and that he knew about the affairs. She said that she wasn’t cut out to be a wife and mom back then, and she needed to be free. That’s why she left. She’s sorry for her mistakes.”

  “She’s sorry?” No longer able to contain his anger, he picked up the side table lamp and threw it against the wall. The heavy sound of ceramic cracking against drywall filled the air. He s
talked over to where his brother stood and glared into his green eyes, the only good trait they each inherited from their old man. “I don’t wanna hear anymore. Are we clear?”

  “Kyle, I know you’re pissed, okay? So am I. They were horrible, disgusting parents. But we’re okay. Look at us. You have always been the greatest brother. You gave up everything for me, and I’m trying to save you now. I think you’ll regret not seeing Dad before he dies.”

  “That is where you’re wrong,” Kyle growled his heart racing in his chest. “The only thing I regret is not killing that motherfucker when I had the chance. Every time he laid his hands on us, I wanted to kill him, and I didn’t out of fear for what would happen to you. I’m glad he’s dying, Nix. I hope he suffers long and hard before he goes, and I hope he burns in hell for eternity once he gets there. Hopefully, Mom won’t be far behind him.”

  He knew he’d crossed lines with his brother. He knew the violent words were out and would forever remain between them. But after all these years, Nixon finally knew some of the truth Kyle had spent his life trying to shield him from. Kyle could practically hear the click of the proverbial leash that had kept him restrained for his brother’s sake, give way. With that freedom, years of pent up anger burst loose and Kyle had no desire to try and cage it.