“Why?”
He looks away from me and shakes his head.
“Kyle.”
“No.”
“Kyle.You can trust me.”
He shakes his head, still avoiding eye contact.“It’s only a matter of time before they come for me, too.”
“Who?”
He shakes his head again and closes his eyes.His hands are trembling now, so he crosses his arms, trying to hide the vulnerability he’s feeling.Unease slips up my spine, icy fingers that have the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.
“Kyle, who is coming for you?”I press.“Your dad?”According to his mother, Kyle’s father hadn’t been abusive.At least, not until Kyle confronted him the night he left.Their altercation came to blows, and the teen was seriously injured.
Once again, Kyle shakes his head.Only, this time, he opens his eyes and looks directly at me.“I’m sorry,” he whispers.“It’s all my fault.”
“What’s your fault?”Now, I stand and take a few steps closer.The cracks are there.The fissures in walls this kid has spent a lifetime building.First, to keep out his alcoholic father, then to shield his pain from a mother who is already carrying enough on her shoulders.
“They told me that Pauline would be okay.That they would make sure she was okay.”
“Who?”I repeat, moving a little closer.
He turns to me now, dark eyes full of brokenness.“I’m sorry.I’m so, so sorry.”
“Kyle, tell me what happened.”
“They didn’t say what they were going to do.I promise, I didn’t know.I didn’t know,” he repeats as he takes a step back.“But it’s not their fault.Please don’t take it out on them.It was just my fault.”
“Kyle, tell me what happened,” I repeat again, my tone sharpening.
“Promise me you won’t take it out on them.”
“Take what out on who?”
“Mom and Pauline.It wasn’t their fault.You should still help them.”
“Kyle.Talk.”Unease climbs up my spine at the fear on his face.Over the time I’ve known him, Kyle has never looked at me with fear.Anger, sure.Plenty of times.Distrust?Absolutely.But fear?I have never laid my hands on this kid, and I never will.
So why is he looking at me like I’m a bomb about to go off?
“I made a copy of your key,” he whispers.“They told me they needed something from your apartment, but they said no one would get hurt.”The tears continue to stream down his cheeks, and the fear turns to regret so potent it brings him to his knees.
All while I stand there, staring, trying to process what he’s telling me.
“When I heard what they did to you, I knew they’d be coming for me, too.I couldn’t let them get me.I’ve been watching Mom and Pauline.Because I thought they’d come for them, too.I didn’t mean to come to school today, but Mom was at work, and Pauline went, so I wanted to make sure I was there, too.I needed the knife to keep her safe.”He wraps both arms around himself and begins to rock back and forth.
It’s not alcohol that’s been keeping Kyle out of school.
Or drugs.
It was fear for his family.
Even though it aches, I slowly lower myself to the floor beside him, then press a hand to his back.“It’s okay, Kyle.”
“No, it’s not.They almost killed you!You almost died because of me!It’s my fault!It’s always my fault.I stole your keys.I made a copy.I put them back before you knew.And you almost died.”His words are coming out in a panicked slur now, as he talks so quickly I can barely keep up.