"What do you remember about that night?" my therapist asked in a slow but soft voice. I tensed up trying to block the memories from flooding back.
"Pain," I finally got out, "Excruciating pain."
"Tell me about it, Kenny."
I shook my head slightly and inhaled deep. The vision came back vigorously like it had happened the other day, when in fact it was only just twelve months ago. I started spewing out details like it was vomit that my body couldn’t hold anymore. How I came home that night, William was on the couch in the dark and how a feeling of terror shot threw me when I turned on the lights. He sat there, two empty 40 ounce bottles of vodka sat on the coffee table, with a knife in his left hand.
"William, what are-?"
"Who is Clark?"
My mind swam suddenly. He was obviously drunk, but that name stung me like an angry hornet.
"Who?" I stalled but he sensed it and shot up, staggering a bit.
"Don’t fucking play games with me, Kenny! Who...is...Clark?"
I turned and rushed toward the front door, but as I opened it, William had thrown his body on it to slam it closed. Now, he was inches away from me and I was looking at his empty hands. My breathing felt heavy and I wanted to tell him the truth, but instead I chose another avenue.
"A friend." I lied and turned around to walk to the kitchen but as soon as I had done that, I immediately regretted it. It wasn’t his footsteps that I heard, but the removing of the bottle from the coffee table. When my attention snapped in attention to his direction, I felt my nose being crushed by a flying object causing me to fall into the wall behind me. Then, he started kicking me profusely and violently while he slammed my head into the wall during his breaks from kicking me. It had all happened so fast that I didn’t even have time to panic. The brief, deathly brief, moment he took to scream something that was grabbed, I took the bottle that had hit my nose and when he charged at me, I crashed the bloody object into his right temple. I heard the thud of his body but had not seen it since I was starting to panic now. When I tried to get up, his hand grabbed my ankle and all I could think about was how I ended up in this Lifetime Movie situation.
"How did you escape?" my therapist interrupted. That’s when the tears broke free and I clutched my sides, hugging myself.
"After I got up," I told him in such agony, "After he grabbed my ankle, he picked me up and threw me out the window."
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