Date: Thu, 21 Jul 2005 00:28:44 -0800 From: purenrg80@hotmail.com Subject: OH DANNY BOY Chapter 1 Preview of Chapter 1: I swore this would never happen to Tommy, like it had been happening to me for the past 5 years as I listened to Tommy sobbing in his room. With tears in my 12 year old eyes I pushed open my little brother Tommy's bedroom door to a scene I have lived through time and time again. Standing over him with a pure look of evil in his eyes was the beast. Chapter 1: Nobody knows what turned my 16 year old brother David into a raging maniac. For the most part nobody even knew that part of him existed, outside of our close family that is. It started around the time my father left us. I was a happy 7 year old who idolized his older brother. I followed him everywhere he went, envious of the time he got to spend playing ball with his friends, while I was stuck watching from a distance. I heard David's bedroom door shut, so I ran to his side like I always did to see where he was going. At first, David ignored my predictable whining about wanting to come with him. That only lasted until he got to the front door. David turned to me. "Get away from me! You are not coming with me anymore!" My heart sunk and I stood there frozen. David turned to leave again as I spoke in a soft voice, "but I want to come." Something deep inside him snapped. David swiveled around and hit me right in the middle of my puny chest, sending me falling backwards into a wall. I guess I responded as most kids would. I began bawling, telling David I was going to tell mom. Nothing in my young mind could of prepared me for what happened next. David dropped everything he was carrying and walked over to me with anger in his eyes. I stopped bawling and tried to get up and run from him, but he was too fast and too strong. He grabbed the back of my neck, forcing me down the hallway and into my room, pushing me onto the floor at the base of my bed. David was only 11, but he looked monstrous in my young eyes as I drew my legs into my body and held them tightly with my arms, pleading with him to stop. He started laughing. For a brief instant I thought it was over, that this was just some kind of mean joke. I was wrong. David took a plastic baseball bat that my father had given me and with one quick swing whacked me on top of the head while he said, "so you're going to tell mom?" Plastic or not, it hurt me. I covered my head with my arms and said "YES!" Three more hits came, hitting my forearms. Again he asked me, this time with more force, "so you're going to tell mom?" I began crying again as I yelled "STOP IT! IT HURTS!" That only seemed to fuel the fire as David's body became a blur, swinging the bat back and forth, each time connecting to all the parts of my huddled body. It seemed to go on forever, but finally he stopped, breathing heavily. For my part I was a battered boy, unable to take in what was happening. I couldn't move or even speak as David got down to his knees and pulled my hair back. My head was forced back to where I could see him. Sweat ran down his angry face and with deep breaths he spat out, "YOU ARE NOT GOING TO TELL MOM ANYTHING OR NEXT TIME IT WILL BE WORSE!" With that he shoved my head back down and left. I am not sure how long I laid there before I felt a presence in the room. Fear began to hit me with the thought that David had returned. I felt a hand touch me and I flinched, but thankfully a little voice said, "Danny?" I didn't answer him. I remained in a ball, not wanting my 4 year old brother Tommy to see me like this. Tommy left the room and in the distance I could hear him yelling "MOMMY! MOMMY!" My mother entered the room and looked at me with a gasp. She quickly told Tommy to go to his room and play with his toys, but Tommy wouldn't leave. "Mommy! What's wrong with Danny?" With a little more force in her voice she once again told him to go to his room. Tommy finally gave in and left the room as my mom shut the door. She came to my side, lifting me up by the arms, looking at the bruises all over my body. Finally I gave up the fetal position and crushed into her arms bawling. She began crying along with me, muttering through her tears "Oh God! Who did this to you??" I didn't answer her, David's last words still ringing in my ears. No answer was necessary as mom quickly put two and two together. My father lived across the country and never beat us. Surely no neighborhood kids would be so bold to enter our house and beat me so badly. That only left David. Mom cleaned me up and got me into bed. She didn't feel the need to involve any police or doctors, it was only some bruises after all. I guess looking back at David's first "whooping" as he called them, it was more mentally devastating than anything else. I was up the next day feeling much better, well outside of still fearing David. I was doing whatever it took to stay away from him. I stayed in my room as everything between David and my mother boiled over. The first voice I heard was my mothers. "What were you thinking!! You beat your little brother with a bat!!" David was silent for a time while my mom kept telling him to answer her. Than it all came out. "I HATE THAT LITTLE BRAT!! HE FOLLOWS ME EVERYWHERE!! AND I HATE YOU!! YOU MADE DADDY LEAVE!!" That was the only time I can ever remember my mother losing her temper. I heard two slaps, and knew she had just slapped David across the face. I heard him crying as his bedroom door slammed shut as my mom yelled, "YOU DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT LEAVING THIS ROOM FOR ONE MONTH!!" That night I laid there sobbing at all that had happened. Little Tommy entered my room and asked, "what's wrong Danny?" Thankfully mom had taken him to a neighbors home to play with some other kids, and he was pretty much in the dark. I told him nothing, and pulled him up onto my bed. Tommy looked at my bruises and rubbed his hands over them asking, "do them hurt Danny?" Not wanting to upset him I just said "nah, I will be okay" Tommy cuddled up next to me and fell asleep. I stayed up for a time running my fingers through his hair as I laid there thinking to myself. Mom walked in when it started getting late, and started to grab up Tommy to take him to bed. I stopped her and asked "is it okay if Tommy sleeps with me?" She smiled and said "of course baby". She kissed me on the forehead and said "good night, everything is going to be okay Danny". How wrong she was... For the next few years, David's violence towards me took a turn for the worse. He quickly learnt his lesson that he couldn't leave any visible marks behind as proof of what he was doing to me. The beatings began to be more frequent, not a week went by without some kind of physical abuse. The mental abuse however happened daily, and it worked. The constant threats kept me from ever telling anyone what was going on. For whatever reason, he left Tommy alone, so I at least had that. David's behavior pushed me closer to Tommy than ever before, and I spent many a night holding him close to me. Over time I vowed to never let David touch him, knowing deep inside that someday David's abuse would turn to Tommy. It was October 14th. I guess I remember the day because it was the day I finally stood up to the beast, as I now called my brother David. I swore this would never happen to Tommy, like it had been happening to me for the past 5 years as I listened to Tommy sobbing in his room. With tears in my 12 year old eyes I pushed open my little brother Tommy's bedroom door to a scene I have lived through time and time again. Standing over him with a pure look of evil in his eyes was the beast. I was terrified, but managed to yell out "NO!" David's attention switched from my little brother right to me. David laughed and walked in my direction saying "what do you mean, NO?" I brought up a real baseball bat, pointed it right at him and calmly said, "DON'T you fucking touch him you bastard!!" Hate burned in David's eyes as he came after me with quick plunge. I was ready for him this time and brought the bat up and smacked him right on the chin. He fell back against the wall stunned and holding his jaw. Blood began to come out of the corner of his mouth as he swore over and over "FUCK!". Even with my larger body, he was still too much for me. He growled and ran straight at me, and even though I connected to his ribs with another swing, he took me to the ground and wrestled the bat away from me. Somewhere I got up the courage to tell him, "Fine! Do what you want to me, but don't you touch Tommy!" The beast looked over at Tommy huddled in a corner crying out loud, then back to me and said "DEAL!" I thought the next few moments of my young life would be my last. David hovered over me with bat in hand, blood dripping down off his chin as he laughed and taunted me. "So where do you I start? Maybe a shot to the head?" With every body part he repeated the same question, and he would pull back the bat, and I would shut my eyes tightly, waiting for the bat to connect. Each time I felt nothing and he would laugh. As if he somehow disconnected with reality, he asked that question again. "So where do I start? Maybe a broken leg?" Again the bat came up as I closed my eyes. This time I heard an angry scream as the bat swung down and brutally connected with my left thigh. Anyone in neighborhood could hear the SNAP that came next, and my screams of agony. He had done it, I knew in an instant that my leg was broken. David stood over me, almost looking in shock that he had actually done it. He had a stunned look on his face for only an instant, then the corners of his blood covered lips turned up and he smiled a wicked, evil smile. He just stood there, not running or trying to get away as I screamed for help. It only took a couple of minutes before neighbors crashed into Tommy's room to investigate. David just stood there, bat in hand smiling down at me as they took the bat from his hand, and pushed him face down to the bed and held him there. The whole time the beast smiled that same evil smile. In the aftermath of that day, David was sent to juvenile detention to await his punishment. I was taken to the hospital and spent a week there as the police investigated every aspect of our family's life. Tommy was taken into custody, but was released after I gave my statement, clearing my mother on any real part in the events that took place. Mom picked me up the following week, tears pouring down her face as she held me tight. The healing began when David was sentenced to two years in juvenile detention, to be followed by psychiatric evaluations when he turned 18. Tommy moved into my room to take care of me. Mom must have realized how close we were and gave no objections. I was on pain meds for the following two weeks, sleeping most of the time. To my surprise, every time I woke up Tommy was right there, either sleeping next to me or looking on, as if protecting me. Once the pain medicine ran out, the nightmares started. It was always the same, David standing over me smiling that wicked smile. This time he had a long knife in his hand, and each time he brought it back for a fatal strike, I would wake up in a cold sweat. Each time I woke up, Tommy was there to comfort me. He would take me into his arms and just hold me tight, telling me everything was okay. The dreams slowed with passing time, and soon my cast was off and I was up and moving. Tommy pushed me hard and never let me quit during my rehab, and by the time I turned 13 I was fully recovered. Time heals all wounds... Tommy turned 10 yesterday, but his party was somber. None of us had fully recovered from the past horrific year, and with only the three of us living in the house, it got depressing at times. Then something magical happened as I looked over at my little brother. The birthday candles twinkled in his eyes as he smiled at me with thankful eyes, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. A twitch of excitement ran through my gut right down to my crotch, and it frightened me. Surely I couldn't have those kind of feelings about Tommy?? Please send comments to purenrg80@hotmail.com