My head was swimming with the
recent knowledge of the events that had led up to Monica’s rape and beating. A
wonderful mentor and father figure had been destroyed in my heart’s mind by
admitting his involvement in the whole deal. And the alcohol I’d been drinking
was flowing through my veins, clouding my perception.
So when Dillon appeared at the driver side door, his switch-blade already out, it was very much like a dream. He reached in the open window with his other hand and hauled Robbie out by the neck without opening the door. He’d looked tall and lanky in the store, but he was a strong son of a bitch, that was plainly obvious.
He kicked Robbie in the face then leaned into the car door and said. “Oh, so what do we have here? Get out of the car, now.” I complied. He stood there and smiled at me across the top of the car. “You fucking him, too, Robinson?”
“Hurt me, kill me, do what you want,” Robbie said struggling to his feet. “Just don’t hurt the boy.”
“Oh I plan on doing more than that,” Dillon said, a huge grin on face. “I don’t do the Hershey highway stuff, but let’s see how good he is at giving me a blow job, and if it’s good, I’ll kill him quickly. If it’s not good, he’ll be begging for me to kill him before I’m done with him.” He pointed the knife at me. “Over here and on your knees, boy.” He said to me.
“No!” Robbie said, and reached forward, but a simple thrust of the blade by Dillon into Robbie’s shoulder stopped him.
“I’m coming,” I said, starting to walk around the front of the car.
“No,” Robbie gasped, stumbling back, grabbing at the gash on his shoulder. “Leave him alone.”
“No, you listen, you dumb fuck. I thought you’d learned your lesson last time, but you obviously need to be taught a more serious lesson now.” He grabbed Robbie’s shoulder, the one he’d just stabbed, and squeezed, pulling Robbie forward. “Get moving. We’re heading down to the water.” He turned back toward me. “You lead now, pretty boy,” he said to me. “Keep those fucking hands on the top of your head and no funny moves or your lover here gets the knife through his jugular. Capeesh?”
“Y-yeah,” I said, starting to walk through the parking lot toward the waterfront.
He steered us through the dark, down some steps, around a few corners. The whole time I listened to their footfalls behind me, Robbie’s heavy breathing, wondering how badly he was stabbed, how much he was bleeding. But I didn’t dare look back at all.
When we got to the dock, he told me to stop. He stepped closer, his left hand on Robbie’s shoulder, still squeezing it, the blood seeping between his fingers, Robbie wincing under the grasp. Dillon then placed the hand with the knife in it on my shoulder so that the blade touched my neck.
“On your fucking knees, boy,” he said to me.
I froze, just stared at him, feeling the tip of the blade against the side of my neck. I didn’t move.
Dillon kneed me hard between the legs and I doubled over, seeing bright spots of light in my vision. He pushed down on my back and I folded to my knees, still hunched over, gasping for air.
I didn’t look up, but could hear Dillon saying something in a laughing tone, and the distinct sound of his zipper coming down.
Things started to happen really slowly at that point. I remember hearing Robbie’s voice, a strangled, frustrated cry saying. “No. Not again. No more. No more.”
I started to look up at that point and saw Robbie grabbing Dillon by the throat with one hand and wrestling the knife hand with his other. Caught completely by surprise, Dillon stumbled back. It was only then that I realized Robbie had succeeded in stabbing him. Dillon held a hand to the blood seeping out from a puncture wound in his stomach.
Robbie ran at him, the knife extended, and the blade glanced off his chest as Dillon flung himself back. In a single, fluid motion, Dillon hit the dock, rolled, pulled a small handgun from a holster beneath his jacket and let off a single shot.
It was Robbie’s turn to stumble backwards, holding onto his own stomach, looking down at the blood which started to pour from where he’d been shot.
I still could barely breathe as I watched this scene unfold from my knees. But even if I hadn’t been hoofed in the nuts, I’m not sure if I would have moved. The whole moment still had that strange murky dream-like quality to it as I watched. I’m not sure if I would have actually been able to pull myself out of that state and do something.
Robbie looked up at Dillon who by then had the gun trained on me as he was getting to his feet. I remember noticing the gun pointed in my direction, but not actually registering what it meant. It was like I was watching some foreign language film and not completely understanding what was going on.
Robbie let out a hoarse battle cry and rushed at Dillon, the blade extended. Dillon turned the gun back towards Robbie and it went off as Robbie tackled him. I didn’t see where that second bullet went, but I did see Robbie manage to sink the blade deep into Dillon’s neck before the two of them fell backwards off the dock and splashed into the water.
When I finally managed to drag myself to my feet and walk over to the edge of the dock there were barely ripples visible in the moon light.
I’m not sure how long I stood there, looking down at the water before I realized that neither one of them was going to surface. I remember whispering for Robbie, wondering if he was okay and just hiding somewhere, under the dock, or treading water quietly, just out of my line of sight.
“Robbie,” I called a bit louder. “Robbie,” and I started to break down and cry, huge, hiccoughing sobs, as I realized that he was gone and I’d never see him again. I thought back to that first day in class, when he made us stand on his desk to see the class from a different viewpoint. I thought of all the new viewpoints he'd afforded me, all the hope he'd given me. Now gone. And I cried.
I finally got up and moved when I heard sirens in the distance.
I ran off down the boardwalk that led to Bell Park, and from there crossed Paris street near the hospital, walked through that neighbourhood, then meandered through side streets mostly on my way back to the downtown area and started walking along the highway that Elm Street turned into, on my way towards Highway 144 and Levack.
So when Dillon appeared at the driver side door, his switch-blade already out, it was very much like a dream. He reached in the open window with his other hand and hauled Robbie out by the neck without opening the door. He’d looked tall and lanky in the store, but he was a strong son of a bitch, that was plainly obvious.
He kicked Robbie in the face then leaned into the car door and said. “Oh, so what do we have here? Get out of the car, now.” I complied. He stood there and smiled at me across the top of the car. “You fucking him, too, Robinson?”
“Hurt me, kill me, do what you want,” Robbie said struggling to his feet. “Just don’t hurt the boy.”
“Oh I plan on doing more than that,” Dillon said, a huge grin on face. “I don’t do the Hershey highway stuff, but let’s see how good he is at giving me a blow job, and if it’s good, I’ll kill him quickly. If it’s not good, he’ll be begging for me to kill him before I’m done with him.” He pointed the knife at me. “Over here and on your knees, boy.” He said to me.
“No!” Robbie said, and reached forward, but a simple thrust of the blade by Dillon into Robbie’s shoulder stopped him.
“I’m coming,” I said, starting to walk around the front of the car.
“No,” Robbie gasped, stumbling back, grabbing at the gash on his shoulder. “Leave him alone.”
“No, you listen, you dumb fuck. I thought you’d learned your lesson last time, but you obviously need to be taught a more serious lesson now.” He grabbed Robbie’s shoulder, the one he’d just stabbed, and squeezed, pulling Robbie forward. “Get moving. We’re heading down to the water.” He turned back toward me. “You lead now, pretty boy,” he said to me. “Keep those fucking hands on the top of your head and no funny moves or your lover here gets the knife through his jugular. Capeesh?”
“Y-yeah,” I said, starting to walk through the parking lot toward the waterfront.
He steered us through the dark, down some steps, around a few corners. The whole time I listened to their footfalls behind me, Robbie’s heavy breathing, wondering how badly he was stabbed, how much he was bleeding. But I didn’t dare look back at all.
When we got to the dock, he told me to stop. He stepped closer, his left hand on Robbie’s shoulder, still squeezing it, the blood seeping between his fingers, Robbie wincing under the grasp. Dillon then placed the hand with the knife in it on my shoulder so that the blade touched my neck.
“On your fucking knees, boy,” he said to me.
I froze, just stared at him, feeling the tip of the blade against the side of my neck. I didn’t move.
Dillon kneed me hard between the legs and I doubled over, seeing bright spots of light in my vision. He pushed down on my back and I folded to my knees, still hunched over, gasping for air.
I didn’t look up, but could hear Dillon saying something in a laughing tone, and the distinct sound of his zipper coming down.
Things started to happen really slowly at that point. I remember hearing Robbie’s voice, a strangled, frustrated cry saying. “No. Not again. No more. No more.”
I started to look up at that point and saw Robbie grabbing Dillon by the throat with one hand and wrestling the knife hand with his other. Caught completely by surprise, Dillon stumbled back. It was only then that I realized Robbie had succeeded in stabbing him. Dillon held a hand to the blood seeping out from a puncture wound in his stomach.
Robbie ran at him, the knife extended, and the blade glanced off his chest as Dillon flung himself back. In a single, fluid motion, Dillon hit the dock, rolled, pulled a small handgun from a holster beneath his jacket and let off a single shot.
It was Robbie’s turn to stumble backwards, holding onto his own stomach, looking down at the blood which started to pour from where he’d been shot.
I still could barely breathe as I watched this scene unfold from my knees. But even if I hadn’t been hoofed in the nuts, I’m not sure if I would have moved. The whole moment still had that strange murky dream-like quality to it as I watched. I’m not sure if I would have actually been able to pull myself out of that state and do something.
Robbie looked up at Dillon who by then had the gun trained on me as he was getting to his feet. I remember noticing the gun pointed in my direction, but not actually registering what it meant. It was like I was watching some foreign language film and not completely understanding what was going on.
Robbie let out a hoarse battle cry and rushed at Dillon, the blade extended. Dillon turned the gun back towards Robbie and it went off as Robbie tackled him. I didn’t see where that second bullet went, but I did see Robbie manage to sink the blade deep into Dillon’s neck before the two of them fell backwards off the dock and splashed into the water.
When I finally managed to drag myself to my feet and walk over to the edge of the dock there were barely ripples visible in the moon light.
I’m not sure how long I stood there, looking down at the water before I realized that neither one of them was going to surface. I remember whispering for Robbie, wondering if he was okay and just hiding somewhere, under the dock, or treading water quietly, just out of my line of sight.
“Robbie,” I called a bit louder. “Robbie,” and I started to break down and cry, huge, hiccoughing sobs, as I realized that he was gone and I’d never see him again. I thought back to that first day in class, when he made us stand on his desk to see the class from a different viewpoint. I thought of all the new viewpoints he'd afforded me, all the hope he'd given me. Now gone. And I cried.
I finally got up and moved when I heard sirens in the distance.
I ran off down the boardwalk that led to Bell Park, and from there crossed Paris street near the hospital, walked through that neighbourhood, then meandered through side streets mostly on my way back to the downtown area and started walking along the highway that Elm Street turned into, on my way towards Highway 144 and Levack.
