Read Online These Gentle Wounds by Helene Dunbar - Free Book Online

harder into the grate, but not even the pain is helping. My breath is coming in little gasps. I want to float off to someplace else, but I’m just stuck here with this painful laughter in my head.
    Something tugs on the back of my shirt and I struggle because I’m sure it’s the vulture, coming to carry me back to the house. Kevin would understand, but I’m here alone and the bird’s claws are deep in my skin and pulling at me. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to fight it off, but I’m trying, trying, trying. Scratching at whatever I can reach. Kicking with my eyes closed at anything I can hit.
    And suddenly I’m slammed back against the wall. “Damn it, stop.”
    From out of nowhere Kevin is there and I’m breathing so hard I think I might pass out.
    â€œWhat the fuck?” he asks, and then runs his hand down my cheek. I reach up and feel the creases from the grate in my skin. In one place I feel sticky wet. I bring my fingers away and see blood.
    â€œAre you an idiot?” he asks. “Or just trying to torture yourself?”
    I don’t have an answer for him.
    â€œRoom. Now,” he says and stalks off. I follow, resting a hand on the wall to steady myself.
    I fall into my chair and bend over with my head between my knees, trying to catch my breath. A drop of blood falls onto my jeans and I drag the bottom of my shirt across my cheek to catch the rest.
    â€œLook,” he lectures as he stalks back and forth in front of the closed door. “What the hell do you want me to do? I can’t be in two places at once. I can either be downstairs with them trying to make sure your worst nightmare doesn’t happen, or I can sit up here babysitting you. What’s it going to be? You’re really getting on my last nerve.”
    I look up just as he grabs the box of Kleenex and throws it at me harder than he needs to. I take one and press it against my cheek.
    Kevin sits down on his bed and says, “Maybe you should come down and deal with him. Maybe that’s just what both of you need.”
    â€œNo way.” My father’s face isn’t one I ever want to see again.
    â€œSo what do you want me to do?” Kevin asks, leaning toward me.
    â€œGo,” I say. “I’m fine.” But the words hurt as they come out of my mouth, all spiky and pointy edges.
    â€œReally?” he asks, like it couldn’t possibly be true. With every step he takes toward the door I feel the room getting bigger and bigger, and emptier and emptier, and I can feel myself start to panic. But no, I know he needs to be down there even if it kills me.
    I can’t say that, so I nod. He comes back and squeezes my shoulder. His voice is softer now. “Just stay here and try to hold it together. I’ll be back up as soon as he’s gone, okay?”
    I nod again.
    He leaves and I toss the bloodied tissues into the garbage. I pull out the first book I can find on the shelf, some old science fiction novel of Kevin’s, and wrap myself in a blanket and try to read. The words swim upside down like dying fish in front of my eyes. I push on my temples. My head hurts and my stomach is starting to churn again. I can feel a spin coming on. It’s so hard to stop the cycle once they start coming.
    I’m really, really tired of the past. I just want it to leave me alone and stay where it belongs. But it’s like that joke. You know, the one that says, “Don’t think about elephants” and as soon as someone says that, all you think about is not thinking about elephants, which is really thinking about elephants?

    Kevin is out playing, which means I get Mom to myself. She pulls out the book of poetry and gestures for me to sit next to her. I crawl up onto the chaise lounge, nestle my head under her arm and stick my thumb in my mouth. I’m five. Kevin would make fun of me if he was here, but Mom won’t; this is our special time.
    She