Never Meant (Kellic) // boyxboy

8: Mixtapez

"So which one is yours?" Vic chirps as he pulls onto my street.

I get nervous. But my dad knows I was with a friend. He gave me permission. Surely it would be okay if my friend dropped me off. And I don't want to be weird in front of Vic, I don't want him to be suspicious.

"The one with the wire fence." I tell him. 

He pulls up to the curb in front of my house and puts the car into park. I turn to him, shyly sucking my lips inward. 

"Tonight was fun." I say softly. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Thank you for coming. I feel smarter already." he chirps.

He begins shuffling through his CDs in the centre console, seeming flustered.

"Um, before you go," he stammers pulling out a CD in a clear, scratched, jewel case. "I made you this."

He avoids my gaze as he passes it to me. Scrawled across the front in Vic's messy handwriting is "Kellin'z Mix". I find myself immediately blushing and grinning. I turn the case over and find a tracklist on the back. I skim over it, seeing a few familiar songs: 'The Middle' by Jimmy Eat World, 'Hands down' by Dashboard Confessional, 'Only one' by Yellowcard, 'I Want You Around' by Ramones, and more.

"Its just like, a few of my favourite songs and songs that make me think of you, and songs I think you'd like." he stutters, clearing his throat nervously.

These songs make Vic think of me?

"Thank you, I'll give it a listen." I murmur, through my smile. I stuff it in my school bag, eager to put it in my CD player as soon as I get in.

I look back at Vic but he's looking past me and his eyebrows furrow slightly. I follow his gaze and see my dad peering out the window from behind the curtain. He looks pissed, as in angry, and as in intoxicated. My anxiety resurfaces.

"You gonna be okay?" Vic asks me. I look back at him and he looks worried, which makes me even more anxious. He can't know.

I force a smile back onto my face and nod.

"Yeah, I'll see you on Monday." I chirp, pushing my words past the lump in my throat.

"Okay, well text me if you need anything. I'll text you later anyway. But if you need anything, anything at all, just let me know." he pushes with a serious tone.

I just give him a nod and pop open the car door. I unclip my seatbelt and give Vic one last uneasy smile before I leave the car. I hear him drive off as I approach the front door. I take a deep breath before I go inside.

"Hey Dad," I say softly, entering the living room.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I see a bottle hurtling toward me. I hear it shatter against the wall beside my head, making me flinch and want to run out the door, but I wouldn't dare. I feel something cold and sharp contact my cheek and I'm not sure whether it's glass or a splash of alcohol. 

I fearfully bring my gaze to his and gulp dryly, terrified of the pure fire in his eyes.

"Don't 'hey Dad' me!" He snaps. "Where the fuck have you been?"

"I was, I was with a friend. I told you that." I squeak.

"Don't fucking lie to me, Kellin! You think I'm stupid?" he yells, stomping over to me. "I would never have agreed to let you go spend the night with some boy!"

I just want to shrink into myself as he seethes above me but I need to stand my ground. Maybe I can convince him.

"I called you after school. You said it was okay," I croak. "We were just studying, Dad." 

His knuckles hit my jaw and I stumble back in shock, but I should have seen it coming. I taste blood rise on my lip as I feel his ring force the flesh into my teeth.

"I said don't fucking lie to me! I would fucking remember if you called me!" he screams.

Anger rises in my chest. I try to do the right thing, and this is what I get?

"No you wouldn't! You were drunk, you're always drunk!" I yell back, tears stinging in my eyes.

I regret my outburst immediately because he hits me again, and this time I lose my footing. I fall down and his foot immediately thrusts into my stomach, leaving me gasping for air. I try to curl up into a ball to protect my stomach but his boot goes for my face, kicking me in my already busted lip. I desperately cradle my head in my arms after that and he returns to kicking my torso, screaming at me.

"This is what I get? I look after you! I do everything for you! And you lie to me!" he yells, hysterical with anger. "The embarrassment you have put me through this year! You are fucking weak, Kellin! Who lets another man do that to them?"

I try to focus on the pain of his relentless blows to my ribs because it somehow hurts less than his words. But his insults are so piercing. I couldn't block them out no matter how hard I tried.

"I wish it was you!" He screams. "I wish you died instead of your mother!" 

I relax into those words. He's said them so many times that they no longer feel tender. I can handle them, because I agree. I wish I died instead of her. I think about that every day of my fucking life. If there were some way I could trade her life for mine, I would have been gone a long time ago. 

I let the pain numb and fade into the background and just watch the blood from my mouth pool onto the wooden floorboards, mixing with the puddle of alcohol and glass I'm laying in. My lungs can't intake air faster than its being kicked out of them, leaving me feeling dizzy and lightheaded. I close my eyes to settle the rising nausea and slowly fall into unconsciousness as I wait for my father to tire from beating me.

*

When I awake, the house is overcome with darkness. My panicked inhales feel sharp in my stomach and my head throbs against the floor. I push myself up, clutching my ribs as they ache with the movement. I hold the doorframe and I struggle to feet. I look over at my dad, passed out of the sofa, a lit cigarette burning between his lips, sleeping as if nothing had happened. I brush the glass off my cheek and stumble over to him. I take the smoke from his mouth and press it out on the coffee table like I've done so many times before.

Maybe I should have just left it—let us be engulfed in a house fire. But I'll be damned if I let his carelessness kill me. If I die, its by my own hand. I would never give him that satisfaction.

I painfully make my way through the house and up the stairs to my room. I fall down on my bed, whimpering as I do so. Every movement feels like someone is taking a hammer to my gut. I wipe the dried blood from my chin and roll onto my back. I feel my phone pressing uncomfortably in my pocket so I pull it out. The screen lights up, blinding me with the light. I see a text from Vic through my blurred vision.

Mike and Tony are official!

I toss my phone across the room, as far away from me as possible. The backing comes off and the blade smacks against the floorboard with a tempting ring. But I don't even have the energy for that right now.

I don't want to hear about someone else's happiness when I know I'll never have that. And I especially don't want to hear it from Vic. Vic is the last thing I want to think about right now.

I was stupid to think I could have friends, I was stupid to think that I could have hope. My life is never going to get any better. It's always going to be like this. I should have just jumped from that ledge. I should never have let Vic in.