Living Next Door to Heaven 2Introduction to Part IX Heaven s Gate
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Living Next Door To Heaven 1103: Rock free porn video
"I've got the jeep packed with booze and we can be in California in two days. Let's go, RB." He said her initials like she was a fast food sandwich. Shit. I had to believe this was the boyfriend. Lester Hawkins was tough, but tall and stringy. William in Kokomo looked like a Greek god with sculpted abs and arms. The guy in front of us looked like his body was built by steroids. He was sweating and his pupils were dilated so far I couldn't tell the color of his eyes. And he had an erection poking at the front of his pants. This guy was on something.
"No!" Rhonda screamed. "Make him go away! Make him go away!"
"Now don't make me mad again, RB. Get your stupid ass up and let's go." God damn it, this was going to hurt. I pulled my hand out of Rhonda's and stepped between her and the ox.
"Get down on the ground and spread," I said. "The police are on their way. You're going to jail."
"I don't see any army, little shit. Get out the way or I'll kill you."
"You're going to jail," I repeated. The orderly had lit out for the lobby as soon as the guy spoke, but I knew the police weren't going to get here in time. The nurse was trying to pull Rhonda's chair back. I sank into the ground with my feet and became a rock.
His first blow hit me low in the ribs. God damn, it hurt! But I didn't move.
"Get down on the ground," I repeated.
"Tough little shit." He rounded a blow to my left jaw that rattled my teeth. I braced for the blow to the right that I knew was coming and felt the skin under my eye tear. That was it.
I put all the power that Whitney had taught me to store into three quick jabs to his chest feeling the snap of his ribs beneath them.
"Don't kill him!" Rhonda screamed. Shit, Rhonda. This is the asshole that beat you up. Then I saw the knife coming at my eye. There was no chance I could block it. I was water flowing around it but I felt the blade slice through my right ear as I trapped his hand against my head. I turned into him slamming my left forearm into his elbow, felt it snap and kept pulling until I felt the muscles tear in his shoulder. I powered down with my right elbow on the bridge of his nose and felt it shatter. He bellowed and the knife dropped into his other hand. I snap-kicked with all my power. His nuts exploded upon contact with my foot. He pitched forward, still swinging at me with the knife.
"Freeze!" a man's voice yelled running up behind me. I fell back, hitting the ground at Rhonda's feet. I watched in slow motion as her pointy red boot slammed into the beast's ear. The cop pounced on Tommy, struggling for his cuffs. The one-time boyfriend swung his knife at the cop, which earned him a jolt with a Taser from the lady cop that lasted until he was unconscious. His hands were pulled behind his back and cuffed without caring about the broken arm. The male cop grabbed for Tommy's belt and ripped it off, hogtying his feet in rodeo fashion.
Two EMTs were running toward us with a gurney and started for the downed man.
"Not this one," the lady cop said. "Tend the guy who's hurt." She pointed at me. "We'll call an ambulance for this one—from the other side of town."
Blood was running down my face and shoulder. Rhonda was crying beside me, holding my face to try to stop the bleeding. The EMTs put a pressure pad against my ear and slid a backboard under me.
"Ahhhgg!" I cried out as they shifted me. I couldn't help it. My side hurt and grabbing the other side of my face made my jaw hurt, too.
"Ow, ow, ow," Rhonda cried as she sat back in her wheelchair and the nurse was wheeling it back into the hospital right beside my gurney. That's when I lost track of what was happening and finally passed out.
"Merry Christmas," a voice whispered beside me. "I'm so sorry, Brian. I'm so sorry."
I knew instinctively that it was four-thirty in the morning. I wondered how Rhonda managed to stay with me. I rolled my head and saw her lying in the bed to my left. Thank God. I don't think I could have stood the pain if I'd rolled to my right. The whole side of my head was on fire.
"Merry Christmas, honey," I whispered back. My voice was shaky.
"You're in pain. I'll call the nurse." She pressed the button and a nurse came through the door almost instantly. She started for Rhonda, but she pointed to me.
"Oh. Awake, are we? I bet you're hurting." She fussed with my IV bag and took my pulse. "I'll be right back with a fresh bag. We needed to let you wake up before we put you out again."
"Do I have to be knocked out to get pain relief?"
"If you can stand it for a few minutes, I'll call the doctor."
"I can stand it. I'm a rock." The nurse left and I took a deep breath that reminded me my ribs hurt, too. I let it out slowly.
"Why did you let him hit you?" Rhonda asked. "You didn't have to let him hit you."
"Yes. I did, honey. It had to be self-defense," I croaked. "And I had to share the pain."
"Do you hate me?"
"No, beloved. I do not hate you. I will always love you."
The nurse and the doctor on duty came into the room and our little moment of special time together was over. They fussed about dosage for my painkiller and I ended up going back to sleep before they'd figured it out.
"I thought after the gang thing in eighth grade, you weren't going to do this again," Mom said. I was awake and aside from local pain in my face and side, I was fine and ready to go home. It turned out that they were giving Rhonda and me the same painkillers now, a little cocktail of Vicodin and Vioxx. It came with a warning not to sign contracts. Oh well.
"Um, wasn't my choice?" I suggested hopefully. Fortunately, Mom laughed.
"Well, if you can stand by yourself and put your pants on, we can get you out of here," Dad said. "Both of you. Although you, young lady, don't need to stand on your own. We'll help you."
Two wheelchairs stood at the ready by our beds.
"Do I really need to ride in a wheelchair?" I asked.
"Hospital policy," our nurse said. It was the nurse who had helped us out last night and had witnessed Rhonda's signature. "Besides, I seldom get the chance to help an actual hero."
"Oh, please. Don't start that."
The police had been in to ask for a statement earlier and had bandied about the word 'hero.' Then they'd asked what dojo I'd studied martial arts at and what my belt rating was.
"Don't have a belt, except to keep my pants up," I said, borrowing a line from The Karate Kid. "I just had to defend myself and my girlfriend."
"I thought her sister was your girlfriend."
"Yeah. That, too."
"Well, you did a good job of it. That guy was stoked on Meth. Must have been living on it ever since the first incident. His arm still hasn't been set because they can't knock him out to release the cuff on that side. Even at the county hospital where we took him, the doctors won't work on a whack case unless they can knock him out completely. He's probably going to lose his balls as a result, too. It took them a while to discover they were sort of ... ruptured. Three broken ribs. Broken arm. Broken nose. Broken balls. Oh, the broken eardrum was a nice touch," she said glancing over at Rhonda. "You could have saved us a lot of money and paperwork, though, if you'd finished him off."
"I didn't want to deprive him of the opportunity to be someone's prison bitch for the next twenty years," I said. The cop grinned.
"There is that. Ugly, misshapen face. One arm that doesn't fully work. No balls. He's a prime candidate."
We didn't just pack up and leave. Mom and Dad stayed at a motel. Rhonda and I went to her parents' house. We didn't sleep together. None of us did. Both Rhonda and I were too sore to be touched accidentally in the night. Donna—bless her heart—tucked each of us in bed and insisted that she would be the night nurse.
It was a little strained with the Gordons. Of course, he'd had to preach a Christmas sermon in the morning and then come home to find most of his daughters' belongings packed. Donna had decided to move the rest of her things up north as well and had promised to come and visit her sister every month. There were a few gifts exchanged—none for me, of course. No one expected me to be there. I had just one gift for Rhonda and loosely tied my red belt around her waist.
"Welcome to Casa del Fuego," I said as I kissed her cheek.
Monday at noon, three more cars arrived to help with moving and greeting. The clan couldn't come on Christmas day, but our entire casa arrived the day after. Rose, Liz, Whitney, Elaine and Sora came in Elaine's car. I was happy to see that Josh drove Cassie, Nicki, and Mary. Jennifer, Courtney, and Samantha had come down Christmas night with Anna, but didn't get to see us until the next day. Jennifer had been with her father on Christmas Day and Courtney, of course, had been with Bill and Crystal. Anna picked up Samantha and then stopped for the other two girls on the way.
"I just want to hug you and kiss you and tell you I love you," Sam said when she faced Rhonda. "And I want to yell at you and hit you and scream 'don't you ever leave us again.' But I won't do any of that. I know you hurt and all I can say is that I do love you and we all want you back with us." We got everything loaded and Donna drove my car. Rhonda and I sat in the front seat next to her for a while and dozed. Then we stopped and moved her to the bed in back where she slept most of the way back north. The rest of the cars were a long, triumphal caravan.
Nothing is as easy as it is. I think that's one of Murphy's many laws. Certainly, the transition to having Rhonda living with us and back as part of our group wasn't easy on any of us. I wanted—we all wanted—everything to be like it used to be. But it wasn't.
Rhonda had terrible nightmares the first week we were back. I can't blame her. I had a few myself. The drug cocktail worked wonders for the pain, but did weird things to your head. I only used the painkillers at night and just suffered with the side pain and the itching, burning pain in my face and ear the rest of the time. I had a bunch of stitches in my face and my ear. The bastard managed to crack one of my lower ribs. I had to go to the dentist and make sure my teeth were stable.
All of Rhonda's records were transferred up to Memorial Hospital to her former doctor. She was nice, but wanted to see Rhonda every week. She was worried about something and I had a feeling I hadn't been told everything about her injuries.
I came out of a sound sleep when I heard her scream. In spite of the pain, I was down the stairs and in the hall trying to figure out why no one else was rushing to her aid. Apparently, I was the only one who heard it.
I opened her bedroom door and she was lying next to Donna with her eyes open and staring at the ceiling. Donna was sound asleep. No one could have slept through what I heard. Or had I heard anything? She didn't turn to look at me. When I touched her hand, though, she gripped it so hard I almost cried out in pain. She held it like that until her eyes closed and her breathing evened out. She went back into deeper sleep. I breathed a sigh of relief and went back to bed. My alarm clock said four-thirty.
"I stood like a rock," I said to Whitney. She'd finally demanded an exact accounting of every blow. She wanted to know why I'd been hurt.
"Show me," she said. I assumed the anchored stance I'd had when I placed myself in front of Rhonda. "First blow?"
"He hit me with his left. Low on my right side." I could still feel the impact. I flinched.
"Focus! You are a rock. He hit your ribs and cracked one. Why didn't you kill him then?" she demanded.
"I couldn't, Whitney. You don't understand..."
"Second blow?"
"A right to the jaw." I pointed at the spot.
"And you didn't kill him." I shook my head. "Third blow?"
"My right eye. It's kind of a mess. They're never going to want me back on television."
"And then you killed him?"
"I intended to. I wanted him to know every bit of pain he'd put Rhonda through first. I used three sharp jabs to his ribs."
"With a twist?" I nodded. "Then how did you get cut?"
"He was on meth, the cops said. He didn't go down."
"You could have killed him."
"Rhonda screamed not to. That's what I thought, anyway. Maybe she was screaming for him not to kill me. The next thing I knew a knife was headed toward my eye. I didn't have time to block it. I just flowed around it," I said. "He got me, anyway."
"Like water. Like Coach was getting you to do on the court," she whispered. I nodded again. "And you still didn't kill him." She sounded so disappointed in me.
"I trapped his arm against my head and spun into it. I broke the elbow and kept pulling until I could reach his face with my elbow. I shattered the bridge of his nose. It was like he couldn't feel pain. He dropped the knife into his left hand and I snap-kicked him in the balls. He hit the pavement and I fell back. Rhonda kicked him in the head," I said. That was it. I didn't want to deal with it anymore.
Whitney flashed out with her left and stopped a fraction of an inch from my side. It was all I could do not to cry out. She drove toward my left jaw, again stopping short. As she brought her left across toward my eye, I knew what she wanted. I stepped into her and made three quick jabs at her ribs, stopping short of touching her. Her hand came at my face like the knife I'd seen just a few nights ago. I grabbed her hand as it passed my face and spun into the arm then snapped my elbow down to stop a fraction before her face. I jumped back and kicked at her crotch.
Then I cried.
Whitney supported me gently as I drifted toward the ground.
"Don't make me a monster, Whitney. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to hurt him like I ... I wanted to hurt him." I couldn't say the words. I wanted to hurt him like I hurt Lester Hawkins. I wanted to kill him with every blow I delivered like I killed Lester Hawkins.
"You did well, Brian," she whispered as she held me and rocked me back and forth as we knelt in the snow. "You need to let it go now. I'm here. I love you. You brought our girlfriend home. You are a good man, Brian. You are a good man."
Was I? All I wanted to do was kill him.
I didn't have any overnight guests before school started on the third. Rose coordinated visits by all our hearthmates. Food magically showed up for us. Even Nicki managed to engage Rhonda for a few minutes. Donna took care of her and helped her bathe.
Jennifer and Courtney were with us every day. We went to the barn to brush horses with Samantha. It was hard for me to reach up on Jingo's back and I found myself spending most of my time just hugging the big horse. Just feeling his big powerful and gentle muscles beneath my hand. Just begging the nightmares to stop.
It was New Year's Eve that I began to see the bigger problem. We planned on a sleepover. Everyone arrived, we had plenty of food. We sat and talked and then headed up to my room. I think the girls were all planning to get naked as usual, but somehow having Rhonda in the room slowed everyone up. I pretty much knew what it was. I went to the center drawer of my desk and pulled out our clan charter and a pen. I brought them to Rhonda.
"We saved a spot on the charter for your signature," I said pointing at it. "Everyone has always thought of you as part of our clan and wanted yours to be the last charter signature." Rhonda looked at it.
"But, I dropped out of the group. I'm not on the agreement anymore. I did terrible things that weren't part of the agreement. I can't sign this." We all looked at each other. This was not how we imagined our reunion to be. I went to my desk and got my copy of the agreement.
"Your name is still on my copy of the agreement," I said. "How about the rest of you? Everyone except Mary and Nicki, of course, had a signed copy with everyone's name, including Rhonda's.
"Are you saying that we can't drop out of the group unless everyone agrees?" Rhonda asked. "That's a little contrary to what we wrote into it in the first place."
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