Date: Thu, 21 Jul 2005 00:28:44 -0800
From: purenrg80@hotmail.com
Subject: OH DANNY BOY Chapter 1

Preview of Chapter 1:

I swore this would never happen to Tommy, like it had been happening to me
for the past 5 years as I listened to Tommy sobbing in his room.

With tears in my 12 year old eyes I pushed open my little brother Tommy's
bedroom door to a scene I have lived through time and time again.  Standing
over him with a pure look of evil in his eyes was the beast.


Chapter 1:

Nobody knows what turned my 16 year old brother David into a raging maniac.
For the most part nobody even knew that part of him existed, outside of our
close family that is.  It started around the time my father left us.  I was
a happy 7 year old who idolized his older brother.  I followed him
everywhere he went, envious of the time he got to spend playing ball with
his friends, while I was stuck watching from a distance.

I heard David's bedroom door shut, so I ran to his side like I always did
to see where he was going.  At first, David ignored my predictable whining
about wanting to come with him.  That only lasted until he got to the front
door.

David turned to me. "Get away from me!  You are not coming with me
anymore!"  My heart sunk and I stood there frozen.  David turned to leave
again as I spoke in a soft voice, "but I want to come."

Something deep inside him snapped.  David swiveled around and hit me right
in the middle of my puny chest, sending me falling backwards into a wall.
I guess I responded as most kids would.  I began bawling, telling David I
was going to tell mom.  Nothing in my young mind could of prepared me for
what happened next.

David dropped everything he was carrying and walked over to me with anger
in his eyes.  I stopped bawling and tried to get up and run from him, but
he was too fast and too strong.  He grabbed the back of my neck, forcing me
down the hallway and into my room, pushing me onto the floor at the base of
my bed.



David was only 11, but he looked monstrous in my young eyes as I drew my
legs into my body and held them tightly with my arms, pleading with him to
stop.  He started laughing.  For a brief instant I thought it was over,
that this was just some kind of mean joke.  I was wrong.

David took a plastic baseball bat that my father had given me and with one
quick swing whacked me on top of the head while he said, "so you're going
to tell mom?"  Plastic or not, it hurt me.  I covered my head with my arms
and said "YES!"

Three more hits came, hitting my forearms.  Again he asked me, this time
with more force, "so you're going to tell mom?"  I began crying again as I
yelled "STOP IT!  IT HURTS!"  That only seemed to fuel the fire as David's
body became a blur, swinging the bat back and forth, each time connecting
to all the parts of my huddled body.  It seemed to go on forever, but
finally he stopped, breathing heavily.

For my part I was a battered boy, unable to take in what was happening.  I
couldn't move or even speak as David got down to his knees and pulled my
hair back.  My head was forced back to where I could see him.  Sweat ran
down his angry face and with deep breaths he spat out, "YOU ARE NOT GOING
TO TELL MOM ANYTHING OR NEXT TIME IT WILL BE WORSE!"  With that he shoved
my head back down and left.

I am not sure how long I laid there before I felt a presence in the room.
Fear began to hit me with the thought that David had returned.  I felt a
hand touch me and I flinched, but thankfully a little voice said, "Danny?"

I didn't answer him.  I remained in a ball, not wanting my 4 year old
brother Tommy to see me like this.  Tommy left the room and in the distance
I could hear him yelling "MOMMY!  MOMMY!"

My mother entered the room and looked at me with a gasp.  She quickly told
Tommy to go to his room and play with his toys, but Tommy wouldn't leave.
"Mommy! What's wrong with Danny?"  With a little more force in her voice
she once again told him to go to his room.  Tommy finally gave in and left
the room as my mom shut the door.  She came to my side, lifting me up by
the arms, looking at the bruises all over my body.  Finally I gave up the
fetal position and crushed into her arms bawling.  She began crying along
with me, muttering through her tears "Oh God!  Who did this to you??"



I didn't answer her, David's last words still ringing in my ears.  No
answer was necessary as mom quickly put two and two together.  My father
lived across the country and never beat us.  Surely no neighborhood kids
would be so bold to enter our house and beat me so badly.  That only left
David.

Mom cleaned me up and got me into bed.  She didn't feel the need to involve
any police or doctors, it was only some bruises after all.  I guess looking
back at David's first "whooping" as he called them, it was more mentally
devastating than anything else.  I was up the next day feeling much better,
well outside of still fearing David.  I was doing whatever it took to stay
away from him.  I stayed in my room as everything between David and my
mother boiled over.

The first voice I heard was my mothers.  "What were you thinking!!  You
beat your little brother with a bat!!"  David was silent for a time while
my mom kept telling him to answer her.  Than it all came out.  "I HATE THAT
LITTLE BRAT!!  HE FOLLOWS ME EVERYWHERE!!  AND I HATE YOU!!  YOU MADE DADDY
LEAVE!!"

That was the only time I can ever remember my mother losing her temper.  I
heard two slaps, and knew she had just slapped David across the face.  I
heard him crying as his bedroom door slammed shut as my mom yelled, "YOU
DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT LEAVING THIS ROOM FOR ONE MONTH!!"

That night I laid there sobbing at all that had happened.  Little Tommy
entered my room and asked, "what's wrong Danny?"  Thankfully mom had taken
him to a neighbors home to play with some other kids, and he was pretty
much in the dark.  I told him nothing, and pulled him up onto my bed.
Tommy looked at my bruises and rubbed his hands over them asking, "do them
hurt Danny?"  Not wanting to upset him I just said "nah, I will be okay"

Tommy cuddled up next to me and fell asleep.  I stayed up for a time
running my fingers through his hair as I laid there thinking to myself.
Mom walked in when it started getting late, and started to grab up Tommy to
take him to bed.  I stopped her and asked "is it okay if Tommy sleeps with
me?"  She smiled and said "of course baby".  She kissed me on the forehead
and said "good night, everything is going to be okay Danny".  How wrong she
was...



For the next few years, David's violence towards me took a turn for the
worse.  He quickly learnt his lesson that he couldn't leave any visible
marks behind as proof of what he was doing to me.  The beatings began to be
more frequent, not a week went by without some kind of physical abuse.  The
mental abuse however happened daily, and it worked.  The constant threats
kept me from ever telling anyone what was going on.

For whatever reason, he left Tommy alone, so I at least had that.  David's
behavior pushed me closer to Tommy than ever before, and I spent many a
night holding him close to me.  Over time I vowed to never let David touch
him, knowing deep inside that someday David's abuse would turn to Tommy.

It was October 14th.  I guess I remember the day because it was the day I
finally stood up to the beast, as I now called my brother David.

I swore this would never happen to Tommy, like it had been happening to me
for the past 5 years as I listened to Tommy sobbing in his room.

With tears in my 12 year old eyes I pushed open my little brother Tommy's
bedroom door to a scene I have lived through time and time again.  Standing
over him with a pure look of evil in his eyes was the beast.

I was terrified, but managed to yell out "NO!"  David's attention switched
from my little brother right to me.  David laughed and walked in my
direction saying "what do you mean, NO?"  I brought up a real baseball bat,
pointed it right at him and calmly said, "DON'T you fucking touch him you
bastard!!"

Hate burned in David's eyes as he came after me with quick plunge.  I was
ready for him this time and brought the bat up and smacked him right on the
chin.  He fell back against the wall stunned and holding his jaw.  Blood
began to come out of the corner of his mouth as he swore over and over
"FUCK!".

Even with my larger body, he was still too much for me.  He growled and ran
straight at me, and even though I connected to his ribs with another swing,
he took me to the ground and wrestled the bat away from me.  Somewhere I
got up the courage to tell him, "Fine!  Do what you want to me, but don't
you touch Tommy!"  The beast looked over at Tommy huddled in a corner
crying out loud, then back to me and said "DEAL!"



I thought the next few moments of my young life would be my last.  David
hovered over me with bat in hand, blood dripping down off his chin as he
laughed and taunted me. "So where do you I start?  Maybe a shot to the
head?"  With every body part he repeated the same question, and he would
pull back the bat, and I would shut my eyes tightly, waiting for the bat to
connect.  Each time I felt nothing and he would laugh.

As if he somehow disconnected with reality, he asked that question again.
"So where do I start?  Maybe a broken leg?"  Again the bat came up as I
closed my eyes.  This time I heard an angry scream as the bat swung down
and brutally connected with my left thigh.  Anyone in neighborhood could
hear the SNAP that came next, and my screams of agony.  He had done it, I
knew in an instant that my leg was broken.

David stood over me, almost looking in shock that he had actually done it.
He had a stunned look on his face for only an instant, then the corners of
his blood covered lips turned up and he smiled a wicked, evil smile.  He
just stood there, not running or trying to get away as I screamed for help.

It only took a couple of minutes before neighbors crashed into Tommy's room
to investigate.  David just stood there, bat in hand smiling down at me as
they took the bat from his hand, and pushed him face down to the bed and
held him there.  The whole time the beast smiled that same evil smile.

In the aftermath of that day, David was sent to juvenile detention to await
his punishment.  I was taken to the hospital and spent a week there as the
police investigated every aspect of our family's life.  Tommy was taken
into custody, but was released after I gave my statement, clearing my
mother on any real part in the events that took place.  Mom picked me up
the following week, tears pouring down her face as she held me tight.

The healing began when David was sentenced to two years in juvenile
detention, to be followed by psychiatric evaluations when he turned 18.
Tommy moved into my room to take care of me.  Mom must have realized how
close we were and gave no objections.

I was on pain meds for the following two weeks, sleeping most of the time.
To my surprise, every time I woke up Tommy was right there, either sleeping
next to me or looking on, as if protecting me.  Once the pain medicine ran
out, the nightmares started.  It was always the same, David standing over
me smiling that wicked smile.  This time he had a long knife in his hand,
and each time he brought it back for a fatal strike, I would wake up in a
cold sweat.

Each time I woke up, Tommy was there to comfort me.  He would take me into
his arms and just hold me tight, telling me everything was okay.  The
dreams slowed with passing time, and soon my cast was off and I was up and
moving.

Tommy pushed me hard and never let me quit during my rehab, and by the time
I turned 13 I was fully recovered.  Time heals all wounds...

Tommy turned 10 yesterday, but his party was somber.  None of us had fully
recovered from the past horrific year, and with only the three of us living
in the house, it got depressing at times.  Then something magical happened
as I looked over at my little brother.  The birthday candles twinkled in
his eyes as he smiled at me with thankful eyes, and it hit me like a ton of
bricks.

A twitch of excitement ran through my gut right down to my crotch, and it
frightened me.  Surely I couldn't have those kind of feelings about Tommy??


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