Loving Kinnick

We Are Going To The Bathroom So I Can Teach You How To Shave

We laid at opposite ends of his couch, reading different books. He asked me about last night, how I woke up screaming, and I remembered, but I didn't tell him that. The second I told him, he knew I was lying. The story I made up to get him off my case, about not remembering my dreams.

I remembered everything. When I woke up with his weight on top of me, I was back in that frat house. I was lying on the bed where Warren left me. Nausea crashed over me in waves. Memories of being drunk led me to forget where I fell asleep last night.

I wasn't sure how I remembered the intimate moments I shared with Kinnick. Maybe it was because it has been the only good feeling I have felt in a while. It was something I dreamed about - Kinnick being on top of me - until it was Warren. And the flashlights were going off. People were laughing. And I was back in that room.

So, when Kinnick asked me what I dreamed about, I told him I didn't remember. I have tried not basing this relationship on lies. I failed to understand how to keep certain things from him. Things that I wasn't sure how to talk about because I never had to. I never talked about it because I wasn't sure what to say.

I laid my book on my chest. "How long have you lived alone for?"

He peered at me over his novel. "I moved here two years ago."

"How did your mom react when you told her you were leaving?"

"My mom kicked me out."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Not that big of a deal."

"Can I ask what happened?"

"Well, you already did," he sighed. "What do you want to know?"

"Did she kick you out because you got into trouble?"

He diverted his eyes to the floor. "My dad went to prison when I was twelve for attempted murder charges. That was around the same time I started drinking. I was practically an alcoholic by the time I turned fourteen. Then it stopped working, and I got involved with the wrong crowd."

He told me how they introduced him to drugs, and the first one he ever tried was marijuana. It got worst from there. From trying LSD to anything his friends could give him that was stronger than the last. Yet, his mom never got mad. It was all concern.

"My mom didn't care," he narrowed his eyes as he recalled the memory. "She was too busy spreading her legs for any man who was willing to pay the rent. I couldn't tell you any of their names, but I was young when I learned how to fight. It started with defending myself from my dad to saving my mom from every piece-of-shit that walked through the door."

I stayed silent as he continued talking. "I met John when I was sixteen. He found me in my truck, behind the gym. I smoked laced weed, and instead of taking me to the hospital, they left me to die. I couldn't blame them - they didn't want to get in trouble."

He talked about how many times John tried recruiting him. He wouldn't stop asking Kinnick to join his gym. He saw something in him that nobody else did. The only problem? Kinnick was a sixteen-year-old alcoholic with a drug habit.

The night he was jumped, he found himself knocking on John's door. He accepted his offer. He didn't want anyone else beating on him, and he was going to do whatever he had to do to make sure it would never happen again.

John wasn't aware of what he was creating. Kinnick became a man who couldn't be beaten. John raised a kid who everyone feared because he had nothing to lose. The second he slipped into a pair of gloves, he accepted his past and emotions. Nothing has affected him since.