Bobby's Tale

Stan jumped up and glared daggers at him, fist reared back to strike, "SHUT THE FUCK UP! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU JUST SAID THAT IN FRONT OF THEM!" He shouted in a rage that made us all cringe. He pointed at Kevin, jabbing the air, "You're dead meat, mother fucker!" Then he realized that he had just confirmed it, so it wouldn't do him any good to deny it now. "When Mark finds out you said that..." he sputtered. "If I don't kill you first... You fuckin' stupid bitch."

Kevin glanced guiltily around the room at all of us and aimed his red face angrily at the filthy floor. There was silence for a moment, then Stan kinda shook himself and pointed his finger at each one of us in turn. He was clenching and unclenching his jaw and the veins in his temples were bulging. He spoke evenly, with a barely controlled quiver in his voice.

"Tell you what, mother fuckers: If I ever hear ANYTHING get back to me about this, you're dead. And I don't mean playlike. I mean I'll kill all three of you. I don't care who said what-- you're all three dead." We all instinctively felt that he meant it literally; and all of us were reasonably sure he was capable of carrying out the threat without a second thought.

He turned to Kevin and looked at him with contempt, "Now, you want me to kick your ass in front a your friends? Or you wanna step outside an' I'll do it in private so you don't look like the little fag you are?"

Kevin jerked his head up, his whole body shaking with his rage and humiliation. I watched real, undiluted hatred bubble up and pour out of him like lava, "YOU GO FUCK YOURSELF MOTHER FUCKER!" Which just had to wake the neighbors.

We watched in horror as they both lunged at each other in the same instant. I scrambled up the bed toward the window next to Billy to get out of the way. Matt and Billy both tried to make themselves invisible and stay out of the way as well. My high had been pretty much scared out of me, and I tried to see where my clothes were without moving enough to draw attention. I noticed neither Billy nor Matt dared to move enough to try and finish finding or putting their clothes on.

Stan and Kevin literally bounced off each other on the first lunge, with Kevin landing a fist in Stan's gut as they met, but tripping over somebody's clothes and his own feet, falling right back into the junk pile yet again. Stan had glanced a blow off Kevin's jaw, and stumbled back with his calves against his own bed, rowing his arms for balance to remain standing. Matt shrunk back against the wall on the bed, holding his hands up to stop Stan's fall if he lost his balance.

Kevin came up out of the pile of junk with an empty Bud longneck in his hand. Stan, I gauged, was just enough bigger than Kevin, that he probably won most of their fights. I figured that was why Kevin was willing to use a weapon, probably thinking Stan would back out and maybe leave us alone. At the same time, I thought maybe Kevin was really afraid Stan would start telling people, especially his brothers or parents, he was a fag; so he wanted to threaten him with real violence to stop that before it started. But then I thought of how he hadn't seemed to care that this many people knew he was fucking me. But I guess it would be different if Stan were to say he was 'participating', implying or saying he reciprocated.

And of course, I had no idea how the revelation that Stan and Mark were fucking Peter was playing into all of this exactly; but it obviously was a big part of it.

He crouched with his arms spread wide, daring Stan to come after him. Stan took the dare and moved toward him confidently, eyes darting side to side to look for a weapon of his own.

Stan taunted Kevin, holding his hands out, beckoning, "Come on, pussy fag boy! Go for it!"

So Kevin reached out to the side and slammed the bottle over the metal side edge of, presumably, Stan's stereo, denting it and breaking barely a third of the bottom end of the bottle off. He menaced Stan with the jagged weapon. Stan judged the distance and tried a very swift kick at Kevin's hand with his steel toed work boots and missed, losing his balance and lurching into Kevin in the process.

I couldn't decide, in that split second, whether Kevin reacted instinctively, or whether he consciously took advantage of his brother's mistake; but he fucking stabbed him in the stomach!

HE STABBED HIS BROTHER IN THE STOMACH RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF THE THREE OF US! Well, he actually just kinda held the bottleneck firmly in place and Stan fell into it-- but he could have let it give way.

Billy screamed, jerked open the window and jumped out, naked, jeans in hand, and ran like hell into the night. I cried out and just about pissed the bed. Matt kinda yelped and curled himself up against the wall, staring at them in total shock, shaking like crazy.

Stan stopped in mid motion when the glass cut into his flesh. He stared open mouthed at Kevin. I watched his lips and cheeks twitch, eyes wide in disbelief. His face looked about like each of ours had when he threatened us, but it was shock, rather than fear.

Kevin looked stunned. He slowly looked down and saw how far it went in. Stan grabbed Kevin's hand over the bottleneck, looking down at it, his lips moving but no sound making it out. They stood there with their legs spread in between each other's like an incestuous Tango, Kevin's slimy limp dick and balls draped over Stan's jean clad thigh. They stared at the top of the king of beers label lodged in his abdomen, twitching as the muscles around it began to understand what had just happened to them.

An eerie silence filled the room and time stood still. A sinking feeling overtook me, and I could see the same on everyone else's face as well. Nobody moved a muscle for several very long seconds, except for Stan's silent lips.

The sheer volume of thoughts that ran through my head in that lapse of time is still amazing to me. I had this whole scenario of the history of this family, the love/hate relationships they all had, the violence that was such an everyday part of their existence. The stories I'd heard, the things I'd seen, just the way their conversations were violent. In that moment, I was surprised they hadn't killed each other long ago.

And I surprised myself when I realized I was curious, morbidly curious, to see how Stan would act, and what he would look like, dying. I had no idea if the wound was life threatening or not. It was in his stomach and to his left side a little, so I didn't think it hit any vital organs, but I didn't know. It was definitely a massive and very serious wound.

Like me, Matt was scared shitless. He wasn't even breathing. I don't guess I was either, as we watched Kevin and Stan both look at their hands over the bottleneck, blood just starting to trickle out.

It would have seemed a lot different if he'd been wearing a shirt. It wouldn't have been so REAL. We could SEE the flesh yield, could HEAR it when the glass sliced into him, could see it sink in devastatingly deep. It wasn't just a point. It was the whole damn circumference of the jagged bottle half, and I actually wondered if the circle of flesh would come out with the bottle like a cookie cutter when they pulled it out.

The first sound heard was Stan, like a hack in his throat, then a little moan. I watched his eyes flutter then kinda roll back in his head. He brought his other hand up to Kevin's shoulder and grasped it for stability, wobbled a little, but stayed in place for the moment. Kevin was in shock and didn't move. Then he looked up from their hands into his brother's face and went white as a ghost.

"I didn't-- Stan! I didn't mean to... Oh God! Oh God!" He started hyperventilating, but didn't move.

I heard footsteps and Darius came around the corner, asking what all the yelling was about, and saw the embedded bottle with blood trickling out and both their hands over the neck. He sprang backwards about three feet into the hallway.

He stomped his foot and put his hands over his ears as he yelled in horror, "OH FUCK DUDE! OH FUCK! WHA'D YOU DO?! OH, FUCK!"

"I didn't mean to..." Kevin offered weakly, sounding like he was about to cry. Everyone looked at the blottleneck and Kevin made a movement like he was going to pull it out.

Darius waved his hands frantically and yelled at him, "NO! DON'T PULL IT OUT!" He glanced at Matt and pointed backwards down the hall, "Go call 911! NOW!" We had only recently gotten 911 service in our area.

Matt jerked out of his shock, bouncing in place, then crawled off the bed and slunk cautiously, fearfully around the brothers and ran down the hall butt naked, with his tee shirt half on, one arm in and his head through the neck hole. Darius stepped up to them and put one hand on Stan's back and one hand on his chest, very gently getting him to step backwards.

"Don't move big or fast. Step back over here and sit on the bed real fuckin' slowly." He guided Stan back to his bed and helped him sit as slowly and evenly as possible. As they moved away from him, Kevin's hand stayed where it had been around the bottleneck, fingers still wrapped around empty air. Darius motioned with his head for me to help, "Come put all the pillows behind him so he can lay back a little. I was still stunned, not moving and he snapped at me, "DO IT!"

I scrambled off Kevin's bed and frantically gathered pillows, sheets, dirty clothes, everything soft I could find to pile behind him. Kevin sank to his knees and started crying.

"I'm so sorry, Stan! I didn't mean to do it! I'm so sorry!" He pleaded as he crawled on his hands and knees over to Stan, "Please don't die! Please don't fucking die!"

Stan was keeping his eyes closed mostly. He didn't acknowledge Kevin's pleading. He looked up at Darius with a grimace on his face, "Man, this fuckin' hurts, dude. Goddamn it hurts!" His voice was weak and he was breathing hard, which I could see was making it hurt even more, and causing blood to flow pretty freely around the bottle now and I could even see it puddling inside the amber glass.

I was extremely impressed with Darius, the way he stayed so calm and took control. "Don't talk Stan. Try to breathe as evenly as you can." He looked around at me and said, "Bobby, get dressed and go wake up his parents."

In unison, both Stan and Kevin barked an emphatic, "NO!"

Darius and I both looked at them in stunned disbelief. "What?!"

Kevin talked fast, "No! Don't wake them up! They'll kill us!"

Darius shook his head in piteous wonder, speaking like he was explaining to a small child, "Dude, Stan could die here! Don't you think you oughtta wake your parents up for this? I mean, we're a ways away from any hospital. I can't even think of where the closest one is, man. By the time they get here and get him to a hospital..."

Stan spoke up, "It don't matter, Darius. We just don't wake 'em up for nothin'. We've had worse than this happen. Ya just don't wake 'em up."

"I don't believe this shit! You tellin' me you would sit here and fuckin' DIE and not even wake your parents up and tell 'em?! You fuckin' crazy mother fuckers! You're both fucking insane!"

"It's just the way it is, Darius," Kevin said to Stan's knee. "It's always just been that way. We don't wake 'em up no matter what's goin' on. Dad'll go totally fuckin' crazy if we wake him up for any fuckin' reason."

Darius threw his hands up in frustration and sighed. "Ok, what-ever! I can't believe this shit, but..." His mind, at least, was working clearly though. After a moment of silence, he looked at me and said, "Go ahead and get dressed and go out in the living room and get all the roaches and pipes and shit and bring 'em back here to put away. The cops'll come with 'em and we don't need that shit sittin' around. You're eighteen, right?" I nodded yes, so he didn't have to worry about underage drinkers being present.

Matt came back in the room about that time and breathlessly announced, "They're on their way." He was white as a sheet and trembling, just like me, just like Kevin-- but Kevin was crying too. I couldn't help but wonder if he was crying because he stabbed his brother, or if he was crying at the thought of what his brother would do to him if he lived. Or for that matter, what Mark or his dad might do to him for this.

"Get dressed and help Bobby clean up shit," Darius barked at Matt. He looked back at Stan and asked in a soothing voice, "How ya doin'?"

I stood in the doorway with my pants in hand, trying to see around Darius to see Stan's face. He was trembling and his voice was even weaker than it had been moments ago.

"I'm kinda cold," was all he said. The blood was starting to soak into the sheets around him and he laid back further into the pile of pillows and closed his eyes.

"Don't close your eyes, Stan!" Darius all but yelled to get him to look at him, then toned back down to soothing, "Hang in there, dude. Just hang in there. I was full a shit a bit ago when I said you could die from this. It's in your stomach. It won't kill you, ok? You're gonna be alright. Keep your eyes open and talk to us..."

Kevin was groveling at Stan's knees and begging him to forgive him and begging him to live. Matt and I finished getting dressed and went out to the living room, gathering up all the paraphernalia, too stunned to talk at first. I turned off the stereo and started emptying ashtrays into a Big Gulp cup and Matt picked up things and sat them right back down where they were. He was still just too stunned to function. He jumped when I spoke.

"Isn't that bong the only kinda pipe they were using?"

"Uh... Yeah, I think so. Where'd Billy go?" He asked as if I would know.

"I dunno. I guess home. I think he came in his own car."

"I can't believe he fuckin' stabbed him with a broken fuckin' bottle, dude." He stood in the middle of the room, shaking his head, tears welling in his eyes but not leaking out. "His own fuckin' brother. Fuuuuck."

I stopped and stood facing him, shaking my head as well, "No shit, man. Uh... you think he's gonna die?"

"Oh man, I dunno. Oh man, I hope not. Fuuuuck."

We heard a siren way off in the distance and snapped our heads up at the same instant. I remembered there was a fire station actually not that far away, in Fairmont Park. We both looked at each other with fear in our eyes. We knew the cops would be coming too. We were all of age for drinking, at eighteen, but even though we'd had the high scared out of us, we didn't know if the cops could tell we'd been on drugs anyway.

We both ran toward the back and Matt stopped and shoved the bong into a kitchen cabinet. I stopped and looked at him like he was stupid. He looked back at me like, 'what?' and snapped, taking the bong back out and bringing it with him.

I thought I was prepared, thought I had already seen enough that I wouldn't be any more affected by it; but when I came around the corner and saw how much blood was all over Stan, his jeans soaked nearly all the way down over his workboots; and the bed, all the sheets for nearly two feet around him; and the floor, puddling in the only clear spot around; I just about lost it.

So much deep crimson. The rich color overwhelms every color around it. Knowing that it's living liquid, having watched it under a microscope in Biology class; I had a mental image of the blood draining life away from Stan and infusing the sheets around him with that spark, that essence.

Matt was right behind me, saying, "They're almost here. So what're we gonna tell 'em?"

He rounded the corner, almost knocking me over and froze, kinda behind me looking over my shoulder. Darius was speaking a continuous stream of soothing words in Stan's ear, stroking his forehead softly. I couldn't believe my eyes, but Stan was smiling. Darius had his other hand on the topside of the bottle, meeting Kevin's left hand around the underside, both pressing a shirt or something around it, trying to stem the flow of blood-- unsuccessfully.

The blood had filled the bottleneck and was running out over the rim, which for some reason freaked me out worse than anything else I'd seen so far. It was like a keg tap, steadily running the red brew over the rim and down over Kevin's hand. Kevin was a basket case, feeling the warm blood flow over his knuckles, crying and mumbling into Stan's knee incoherently.

Darius interrupted his stream of words to Stan and looked back at us. He nodded his head down at Kevin, "Help him get dressed. Let me do all the talking. If they question us separately... uh... Say they got in an argument. Nobody knows-- well... over the stereo, yeah, over the stereo. Got that Kevin? Over-the-stereo!" he said each word extra clearly so Kevin would absorb it through his quiet hysteria. "So they started fighting and it escalated and the rest happened just like it did. It was an accident that Stan kinda fell into the bottle. Kevin didn't stab him with it, he just fell into it."

I said, "Well he did. I mean, he did kinda fall into it."

"Yeah," Matt added.

"Cool. Uh, where's Billy?"

Matt shoved the bong under Kevin's bed and chuckled, "He fuckin' screamed like a girl and went out the fuckin' window the second it happened and ran like a pussy." The three of us had a slightly tension relieving little laugh.

Kevin had his face right up in Stan's now, telling him to hang in there, the ambulance is almost here. Stan was still smiling, eyes closed. Kevin took Stan's bloody hand and squeezed. Stan twitched his fingers. Kevin kissed his cheek and asked him once again not to die. I blinked at that.

Matt and I pulled Kevin away and got him dressed. He was dazed, and almost as lifeless as Stan; so we had to do it all for him. I was the one who had to stuff his genitals into his pants, thinking back on the bizarre night as I did.

I couldn't really wrap my mind around it at that point, not even a little. I was shell-shocked, stealing glances at a blood drenched dying man while dressing his killer, who had fucked my virgin ass and 'passed me around' like a toy. I guess it's not really surprising my naïve eighteen year old mind couldn't quite deal.

Three different versions of sirens out front, each dying at its own pace, poured in with the humidity through the open window, pulling us all out of our private thoughts and back into the stark reality of the moment. I looked at Stan, barely any sign of life, the rise and fall of his chest almost imperceptible. So much blood. So fucking much blood. Darius stood, wiped his bloody hands on someone's discarded shirt and headed up front to direct the paramedics back to us.

Epilogue:

That night was a major turning point in my life for many reasons, the glaring and the subtle, the base and the cerebral. I came face to face with mortality that night for the first time in my young life. Stan came within a heartbeat of dying, pulling through miraculously. But we didn't find that out until the next afternoon. The paramedics talking to each other at the scene made it sound like they quite frankly didn't think he would live, having lost so much blood from the deep laceration. One of them did tell us that if we had pulled the bottleneck out, he would definitely have been dead before they arrived.

So by the time Darius, Matt and I left the house after three in the morning, we were all pretty sure he had died. Amazingly, or stupidly if you prefer, none of us thought of calling the hospital to find out. Hell, we didn't even know what hospital they took him to. I sensed that none of us really wanted any further involvement with the Landry Boys. I knew I didn't.