Page 77 of Dark Knight

“That night, he was supposed to be out on a fishing trip with some of his buddies,” he continues. “You have no idea what a relief that was. It was like a holiday. He would be out of the house for three, maybe four days. My mom said she’d make dinner the first night, and I asked if Becky could come over and eat with us. She could almost never come over. I didn’t want her around him.” His jaw tightens, and my heart aches. He never had a chance to be a kid, did he?

“We were having dinner, and it was really nice. Mom seemed happy, and she and Becky always got along really well — everybody sort of knew everybody around here, you know? She liked Becky. Said she had a good head on her shoulders. And I…” He snickers, looking down at his hands. “I was so fucking happy. That was the last happy time I ever had in this house.”

As I watch, his fists tighten. “And then he came home. Out of nowhere, the front door opened. I almost puked all over the table. It was like all the air got sucked out of the room. Dread. Just absolute, crushing dread.” My throat is closing up, and my heart is beating faster because I know that feeling. Maybe not as well as he does, but there were plenty of times – especially in Europe — I felt the same way. Kristoff would go out with some of the people he met, and it was like a weight had been lifted. Then he would come back, and it would settle on me again.

“Right away, he was pissed. Apparently, he forgot his fishing pole and had to drive home to get it, and I guess he was missing out on some good drinking time with his pals. And for some reason, seeing Becky sitting at the table… Mom had even bought flowers and put them out. She was that happy to have a guest.‘What is this, a party? Are you having a party while I’m not around?’” It’s incredible the way his voice changes, deepening into a growl that makes my body erupt in goosebumps.

“And he stomped across the living room, and I knew I had to do something. I stood up and tried to block them from him. I told him to go get his fishing pole and get back to the lake. That we were just having dinner. He shoved me out of the way. Becky jumped up; she was terrified. And I felt so damn guilty and useless because I brought her into this. And I was ashamed, too.”

There’s no emotion in his voice now. It’s flat, lifeless, like he wants to get through this withoutfeelingthe memories. “She tried to come to me, to comfort me. Or maybe she just wanted to feel safer. He was a strong guy, and she might’ve weighed a hundred pounds. It was like swatting a fly–she hit the counter, then hit the floor.”

I’m on the edge of my seat while he pauses to take a ragged breath. “Becky screamed. Mom screamed. Everything went red. I picked up a knife that was on the table. Mom screamed again.‘Don’t. Romero, don’t.’That was all that stopped me. I could actually see myself sinking it into his chest, as clear as anything. He was laughing and daring me—I could smell the beer on his breath and knew he was drunk. Told myself it might be my only chance to set us all free. But then I heard Becky crying and moaning on the floor.”

I can hardly breathe as Romero continues.

“There was blood soaking through her jeans.”

“Oh, my God,” I whisper. I don’t even know if he hears me. He’s so far away.

“She never told me she was pregnant. I guess she would have, but she hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Mom was hysterical, and so was I. Somehow, I drove her car to the hospital. I don’t remember any of it. I was half out of my mind, I swear. She was pregnant with my baby, and he killed it. He didn’t even seem sorry when I was helping her out the front door. But I would never expect that from him, anyway. He never did like to take responsibility for the things he did. Anyway, her parents got there before long, and they pretty much told me to get the hell out and never see her again. It’s bad enough I got her pregnant, but now she was in the emergency room because of me. I never even got the chance to tell them I never laid a hand on her, but I guess it didn’t matter. It was stillmyfault. I walked to O’Neals, and for some reason, it seemed like a good idea to go inside. So I did. I went in, and I proceeded to get drunk off my ass. It didn’t matter that I was only sixteen – I didn’t care. And they knew who my old man was. Guess they figured it ran in the family. He had already put plenty of money in their pockets. And then I staggered back to the house. You can’t understand how broken I was.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“I figured he wouldn’t even be there anymore. That he would’ve grabbed his pole and run like the fucking coward he always was. But no. He was there. His truck was still in front of the house. And I knew even before I stepped through the door what would happen.”

My chest is tight with dread, and I get the feeling I was way wrong when I interpreted Mrs. Cooper’s story.

“I walked in, and what did I find? My mother was on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. Trying to clean up Becky’s blood. Only it wasn’t just her blood. He kicked the shit out of Mom while I was gone – I’m surprised she could see with both eyes swelling up. And all he could do was scream at her to clean up the mess.”

Tears drip off my chin and onto my bare chest, soaking into the sheet. I can’t help it. It’s too much, but I won’t tell him to stop. I wanted to know, didn’t I? And now, he deserves to tell his story. I think he needs to.

“I didn’t wait for him to goad me into it. I don’t even think he saw it coming. It all came out of me – all of it, every last bit. The hatred. The humiliation. All the pain he ever put me through. The pain he put my mom through. The pain he put Becky through. I wasn’t thinking. I was just… hitting. Again, I knew Mom was begging me to stop, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. Doing what I had dreamed of doing for so long felt so good. I didn’t stop until he was dead. And even then, I wanted to keep going.”

“I finally snapped out of it, and the only thing I felt bad about was the way Mom cried. That’s the only thing I felt guilty over. Otherwise, he had it coming. But then reality came back in, and I realized what it was telling me. Obviously, I’d be arrested. I might even be tried as an adult. It’s so remarkable, the things that go through your head at a time like that. I could see a judge, deciding that I was pissed enough to go back to the house and kill him for what he did to Becky. I hardly noticed Mom making a phone call. And when she got off the phone, she was like a different person. Like a robot. She took a trash bag from under the counter and told me to remove all my clothes and put them inside. Even my shoes. I was only in my underwear when she told me to go up and take a shower, and I did, because I guess I needed somebody to tell me what to do. I sure as hell couldn’t figure it out on my own. And somehow, while I was showering, she found the strength to throw most of my stuff in a bag. It was all packed up by the time I got out of the shower. And that was when she told me I was going away.”

My head is spinning.

“I guess you know the rest. I don’t know what made her call Callum; I really don’t. I know they didn’t completely fall out of touch over the years, so maybe she had an idea of what he did. The kind of life he led. Maybe he was the only man she had ever trusted. I’ll never be able to ask her now. But either way, he showed up in no time — really, he must’ve flown here. He came and took me away. She told me I could never return, but I could trust him because she trusted him. If I came back, though, and people started asking questions, it could all fall apart.”

What must that have been like? Sixteen years old, having just beaten his father to death, knowing he could never return home? Not if he didn’t want to end up in prison. “So Dad hid you.”

“He did more than hide me. He taught me all the things I never learned. I know you think I wanted to take your place – that’s not true, but I’m not going to pretend I’m not grateful for his guidance. He taught me how to be a man. He opened me up to a world I sure as hell didn’t know existed. He gave me a future – yeah, there is a lot of danger, but my life here was dangerous, too. Besides, I kind of liked it. I mean, how much worse can you get than killing your own father with your bare hands? What else did I have to lose?”

“Did you… ever talk about it again?”

“Only once. He told me his guys had cleaned it all up. They would make it look like some random killing. They dumped his body in the landfill, and it’s not like he had any friends around here besides his drinking buddies. He made it a point to plant it in the paper that Dad had a history of gambling problems and a little trouble with the law when he was a kid, just in case anybody felt sympathetic. Really, nobody was going to go out of their way to see who killed him. He also told me he would take care of my mom. She would never want for anything again – but how could that be true, since I wasn’t with her?”

His face almost crumples for a second, and so does mine. “So I had to trust him, and I did, and I still do. I owe him everything. How else do you think it was possible for me to come back here? I owed it to him to take care of you. And I wanted to. I guess you were supposed to make up for what I couldn’t do in the past. I couldn’t help Mom. I couldn’t help Becky. I couldn’t stop him until there was no other choice. And even then, it was like I didn’t feel any of it. I wasn’t thinking. I was useless.”

It’s like I’ve never seen him before. I’ve always heard about looking at somebody through new eyes, but this is the first time I’ve ever done it. For so long, I’ve been wrong about him in so many ways.

I slowly get out of bed, careful not to startle him. He’s still so deep in the past. “You aren’t useless. You were a kid. There’s a big difference.”

“Now you want to know why I don’t drink?” he snorts. “Because I know what happens when I lose control. And I can never, ever take that risk. It’s bad enough you saw me that way here at the house. Out in public? I shudder to think.”

“That was different. You went through a whole lifetime of torture from him.” I approach, my heart in my throat, before placing a hand on his shoulder. “You did what you had to do.”

He doesn’t shake me off, thank God. “She wanted me to have a chance at life,” he murmurs, still staring out the window. “What would she think of me now? I didn’t stop at just my father. I’ve killed… I’ve killed a lot of people. I’ve hurt a lot more. I even killed—”