Kevin grabbed himself a glass of milk and sat down in front of his computer. It was late, almost 3:30am, but for the third night running, he had been awoken by a nightmare, drenched in sweat and his breathing rapid.
He began to surf aimlessly; clicking on links, but not really paying attention to the screen in front of him, hoping to find something that would take his mind off his dream. Answering his prayers, an IM popped up on screen.
Frick75: Kev?
KYTrain: Hey B.
Frick75: Wassup? How come U R up this L8?
KYTrain: Had that dream again. U?
Frick75: Stroke of inspiration. Finished my song.
KYTrain: Name?
Frick75: ‘Just Giving’. I’ll play it for U 2morrow.
Frick75: NEway, R U OK? Cos U were all shook up yesterday from that dream.
Frick75: Train?
KYTrain: Sorry B. Just thinking.
Frick75: Was it the same this time?
KYTrain: No. It’s getting worse.
KYTrain: She was cowering in a corner, in a spotlight. I still didn’t see her face. Just heard the screaming.
Frick75: What was she screaming?
KYTrain: She kept yelling no, same as b4. This time she stopped yelling, started crying. Told me not to hit her. Kept saying please, don’t hit me.
Frick75: But U wouldn’t eva…
KYTrain: I know. That’s why I don’t get it. Why am I dreaming about a girl I neva met who thinks I’m gonna hit her?
Frick75: No idea man. Really got no clue.
Frick75: I’m tired. U gonna be alright?
KYTrain: Yeah. Thanx for listening. C ya 2morrow.
Frick75: Bye.
Early hours, the following morning:
Frick75: Not again.
KYTrain: Yeah. It wasn’t me.
Frick75: ???
KYTrain: Hitting the girl. It wasn’t me.
KYTrain: It was Stevie.
Frick75: Oh.
KYTrain: I know. I’ve neva met NE 1 called Stevie.
KYTrain: She was crying, pleading with Stevie not to hit her. I tried to talk to her. Tell her it was gonna be OK. She didn’t hear me though.
Frick75: Kev, I know it’s gotta be disturbing. Just try and forget it.
KYTrain: Can’t. Maybe someone’s trying to tell me something.
Frick75: How can they be? U don’t know NE 1 called Stevie, let alone a Stevie that is abusive towards women. Just forget it.
KYTrain: B, I can’t just forget it.
KYTrain: I’m outta here. C ya.
Frick75: Nite.
* * * *
“Nik, what’s your poison?”
“Vodka and orange,” answered Nikita. “and I’m not old enough to drink.”
“I know. You look like you need it,” said Melinda, fixing the drink, plus one for herself. “Anyway, neither am I.” They clinked glasses at Melinda’s insistence.
“So, talk to me. Where did the bruise come from this time? Door? Football? Alien abduction during which investigation was carried out on the area surrounding your eye?”
Nikita shot her best friend a look. “That was lame. You know where it came from. I admitted it last time!”
“If you admitted it last time, why is there a this time? You should have left him long ago!”
“I know. But I love him. And he loves me…”
Melinda’s expression was one of contempt. “You don’t love him. And he certainly doesn’t love you. He hits you, for Christ’s sake!”
“I do love him!”
“Do not! You are dependent on him. You think that because he can make you feel special on the occasions when he wants money or sex, you love him. But that’s not it. You have spent your life being second best: to your father’s latest bimbo wife and to your mother’s domineering selfishness. So when that useless SOB wants something, he knows that all he has to do is pretend that you are his number one priority. He is aware that you think you love him, and so he knows you will do anything for him. Worse, he knows that if you do ever refuse him, he can knock you about until you give it up to him, safe in the knowledge that you won’t leave him because of this mistaken belief of yours that you are in love!”
“He only hits me when he’s drunk…”
“Only?! Nik, that’s enough! Get out, before he seriously hurts you. You are worth more than this; you can do so much better.” Melinda’s voice was developing an edged that was tinged with panic and desperation: she could not comprehend her friend’s insistence on defending her boyfriend’s name.
Partly to pacify Melinda, and partly in genuine response to the terror instilled in her by her lover, Nikita lowered her eyes and whispered: “What if I can’t Mel?”
“You can. Trust me. There are guys out there that are a million times
better than Stevie.”
Links to other sites on the Web
© 1997 crunkgrl62382@yahoo.com
Get your own Free Home Page