Loving Kinnick

What Do You Get Out Of Torturing Me?

Darkness consumed the apartment. Sounds of rain tapping on the window soothed me until it didn't. The droplets collided with the wind so harshly, as if it were trying to break in, at one point, I actually thought it would break the glass. That wasn't the case, however. As much as it wanted to, it never came close.

I laid on the couch, facing the ceiling, watching the lightning cast shadows. I was never invited, but I had a front-row view of the amazing silhouette show. Nothing ever looked the same. Either tree branches were swallowing the room, or I saw things that made my head hurt.

The clock on the opposite wall of where I sat clicked. Small things remind me of sitting in those plastic chairs, waiting for someone to give me answers on Kinnick. A few hours ago, after taking his medicine, he slipped into the bedroom, and I haven't been in to check on him. I resisted the urge to fight the lady who worked the front desk at the hospital because she wouldn't let me see him, but now I haven't seen him since our fight.

I tried reading the book on my chest. My eyes looked over the words a million times. I kept rereading the same sentence, never moving past the first line. Whenever I looked at the font printed on the pages, I thought of something else. I thought of Kinnick. I thought about what happened in the last forty-eight hours and how badly I wished we just stayed at his place instead of going to the gym.

Every noise I heard made me believe those men knew where Kinnick lived. I could hear the elevator running. I'm not sure how many times I locked the door, so when those steel doors opened, they couldn't get in, but I did it so many times I lost count.

The uneasy feeling in my stomach knew those men would find me first since I had been laying on the couch - in the open. I didn't care. I would do whatever I could to stop them from getting Kinnick. They hurt him, and I couldn't let them do it again.

In previous hours, I swept the floor spotless. There were cuts on my feet from the pieces I didn't see. Small incisions sprinkled the skin on my fingers. The pain didn't bother me because I refused to let Kinnick wake up and attempt to pick it up himself. I knew he would be mad when he saw the bandages on my fingers. I didn't care. He was already upset with me. Why not add to the list, yeah?

My eyes drooped. They were growing heavy at the lack of sleep I experienced throughout the week. I don't know why it was hitting me so hard tonight. I never had trouble staying up when I wanted to, even when I didn't. So, I rolled over to stare at the window. I tried counting all of the droplets that fell down the window, but it started to hurt my head when my eyes started seeing things that weren't there.

So, I went to the bathroom. And I saw blood all over the toilet. I found myself flying through his bedroom door, nearly falling as I slid in. I expected something other than him sleeping peacefully. The breath of relief I released allowed me to fall against the door. I slid down the wood, falling into a seated position in his bedroom corridor, staring at him. I wasn't aware I was crying until the tears were falling down my face. I couldn't stop the memory of him on the gurney choking on his blood from playing like a loop in my mind.

I couldn't watch him die. I wouldn't be able to do that again. I watched my mom choke on flames as they engulfed her car. Everything repeated itself. While her lungs filled with smoke, Kinnick's lungs filled with blood.

I yanked on my mom's car door handle, burning myself as I made contact. My shirt couldn't keep the aluminum from burning me. So, just like I did when I tried helping Kinnick, I felt useless. I sat there, unable to do anything but wait for firefighters, paramedics. A smell I'll never forget filled my senses. A void filled my heart that I will never get rid of. And I thought when Kinnick laid in John's backseat, unconscious, I wouldn't be able to watch two people I cared most for die and still find a will to live.