The Racing Blood

How To Fix Yourself

Author's Chapter Notes:

WARNING: The following chapter contains graphic scenes of a suicide attempt. This imagery may be disturbing to some readers. Read at your own risk.

     Kasey and Amira sat on their bed. The sound of crickets outside the house was the only sound in the room. Kasey had been on the phone all day, and Yahoo! had agreed to take the story down from their website. The Kahne lawyer had already filed a lawsuit against the company for slander and defamation of character. 
     K.J. had locked himself in his bedroom. He had his iPod plugged into his stereo, and Five Finger Death Punch flooded the room. He sat in the middle of his floor, staring at his legs. He carefully put his arm on his leg and stared at his wrist. His mind was flooded with thoughts that scared him, yet he had the desire to listen to them. 
     He reached into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out his pocket knife. He looked at it in his fingers, playing with it. "I'm a murderer. No one wants to see me on the track or away from it. What have I got to lose?" he whispered to himself. He carefully opened the knife and stared at the shiny, sharp blade. 
     He pressed the blade into the skin above his blue vein in his wrist. The sharp pain showed that he was cutting through the soft skin. He winced at the pain, tears forming in his eyes. He raised the knife off of the skin and looked at the trail of the red blood pooling on his wrist. The sight of his own blood bothered him a little bit, but he would deal with that as he needed to.
     He wiped the blood on an old, ripped up shirt and looked at the cut on his wrist. The cut wasn't very large or deep, but it was bleeding pretty well. He pressed the blade deeper into his wrist and yelped at the pain as the blade cut through more skin. This pattern continued until K.J. had a cut that was almost two inches deep. He curled up in a ball and closed his eyes...
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     "Is he going to be okay?"
     "Yes, ma'am. He's going to be fine. However, I would suggest -"
     "We aren't putting our son in the mental hospital. Fuck that," said Kasey. The doctor was dumbfounded as Kasey and Amira walked into the room. K.J. looked at them and looked back out the window at the rainy night.
     "WHAT THE HELL?"
     "Nice to see you too," said K.J.
     "Goddamn it, Kasey. Don't pull that shit," said Kasey.
     K.J. looked at him. "I'm a murderer. I'm better off dead." The slap echoed through the entire room, and K.J. looked at his mother. Kasey looked at his wife, confused. She never disciplined K.J.
     "If you say that again, I'll fucking punch you," said Amira, staring at her son. "You know what, K.J.? You're my son, and I love you more than anything in the world. You could be a goddamn murderer, and I'd love you! NEWS FLASH: KASEY JUNIOR! You are no Adam Lanza. You're K.J. Kahne, NASCAR's new star. The son of Kasey Kahne. Do you fucking sound like a murderer?"
     K.J. looked at her. "I feel like a murderer."
     "YOU HAD A RACING ACCIDENT! You didn't intentionally kill that kid. God. Fucking. Damn."
     Kasey looked at his wife and son. "Your mother is right, K.J. What do you want? You can't kill yourself over a racing accident. Do you know how many of those I have been in?! I'm still a driver. I'm leaving for Dover tonight. I'll have missed practice, but I'll qualify and race on Sunday. You're my son, and I love you. I'm going to race in my career. I can't fix you. Only you can fix you."
     K.J. looked at his parents. "I'm sorry," he said, bowing his head. "I guess I've gone crazy, haven't I?"
     "No. You're still the same K.J. you've always been," said Amira. "You just have to want it."
     "Can we go to Dover?" asked K.J., looking at his dad.
     Kasey smiled and nodded his head. "I think we can get you up to Dover."