"and so the river runs with all of our secrets."
Knox Whiley; left ashamed and traumatized. Being the one that looks out for everyone he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and burdens no one should have to carry. Life for him is an end...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
K N O X p a s t
My body throbs but it doesn't compare to the hammering sensation that's going through my entire skull. Half of my body almost feels paralyzed. Whatever strength I have left quickly diminishes. The minimal lighting along the street makes my head hurt a million times worse. I lie frozen against the concrete, unable to move even an inch.
When I came to I had no idea what happened, I can't remember a damn thing. All I know is snow threatens to make an appearance and I'm stuck, unable to move. My head hurts a whole lot more than any hangover I've ever had.
Ashamed and stupid are two words that come to mind. I've let myself become weak. I let Henry get the best of me. He's getting exactly what he wanted. I hope Koa and Princeton turn out better than me. What kind of example have I set for them?
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to think of something other than the pain. The night darkens as the bar lights flick off. The metal door clicks shut. "Yo!" The bartender darts to my side and helps me sit up. "You good?"
My words slur completely. He grabs his phone and calls the cops.
-
The doctor squeezes hand sanitizer into his hands and scribbles something onto his clipboard and kicks the door stop up. "Your mother is on her way."
As I shake my head in disappointment I grab it, stopping myself from trying to move it. An instant nauseating throb rumbles. The doctor grabs the pan at my bedside and pushes it against my chest as I empty whatever my stomach has, and then some.
"I didn't want her-"
His brown eyes meet mine, "Doesn't matter Mr. Whiley, you are a minor. It was either your father or your mother, with your record I went with the latter." Is this the first doctor that actually cares?
I cover my eyes with my forearm, trying to block out any sort of light. The doctor turns off the lights and shuts the blinds that look out to the hallway. "I know this is a difficult subject," he pauses. "How long has your father been sexually abusing you?"
My mouth goes dry, "Since I was eight, nine years."
He looks mortified and utterly sickened. "I see that there have been no reports made. It's the law to report molestation. Do you know why these reports haven't been made?"
Some were never made because they simply didn't give a damn, and some because they knew who Henry was and what he was capable of. If someone had made a report that person would end up dead in some ditch somewhere, and the cops would happily turn a blind eye or better yet blame an innocent soul.
