Another Lifetime - 8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

They arrived at the party, shivering slightly from the cold night. At the front door, Stanley turned to Kyle.

“Hand me your cell phone,” he said.

“Why?” Kyle asked.

“If we run into trouble, I’ll call my mom,” he said. “You don’t know the number.”

“You don’t have a cell phone?” Kyle asked, completely shocked at the fact that someone doesn’t have a cell phone.

“Never needed one before,” Stanley said.

With that, Stanley took the lead, and boldly stepped up to the door and walked through it. As the door opened, music flooded out. Popular rap music that Kyle absolutely hated.

“Hey!” Kyle said in a somewhat panicked voice. “What are you…?”

Stanley was already through the door, and was looking around at the large foyer of Brent King’s house. On a stairwell near the door there was a girl and boy, making out like it was going out of style.

Further into the hallway, there were a lot of people Kyle didn’t know. People who looked way too old to be in high school. Others who looked like they could break Kyle in half. Unconsciously, Kyle walked closer to Stanley, as if he could protect him. The truth of the matter was that Stanley wasn’t in any better position than Kyle was.

“Hey Russ!” Stanley said cheerfully to someone Kyle didn’t recognize. The guy looked like a solid block of muscle with a pair of beady eyes hidden behind wired rimmed glasses. He sneered at Stanley and Kyle, then took a long swig of beer.

Stanley moved on as if it didn’t faze him. He waved at a few more people, some Kyle recognized, some he didn’t. It occurred to Kyle then that he really didn’t know all that many people. Looking around, he wasn’t all that torn up about that.

Finally they reached the kitchen, where the music was much louder and a lot of people were coming in and out. They entered, and Kyle felt as if he was an extra in some crappy high school party movie. Definitely felt like he didn’t belong.

Stanley walked up to Brent King, who was surrounded by people, mostly girls, and drinking out of a red plastic cup. On the counter were various bottles of liquor, some full, many empty. Kyle saw different rums, at least two brands of vodka, and one large bottle of whiskey. There was also an empty bottle of orange juice tipped over on its side, a tiny puddle of juice next to the opening.

“Hey, Brent,” Stanley said easily. “Great party.”

Brent looked at Stanley with a blank expression. After a minute, recognition sparked in his eyes and he smiled widely.

“Steve!” he exclaimed in a slurred voice. “How’s it going?”

Stanley didn’t correct Brent. He knew Brent was well past being smashed, and figured he wouldn’t even remember seeing him there in a few minutes.

“Great, man. I’m doing great,” Stanley said with a huge grin. “You see Hartman here yet?”

“Nah, man, I haven't seen him yet,” he said, still slurring his words. “He’ll be here though. Ramirez told me he’d be here.”

“Ramirez? Carl Ramirez?” Stanley asked. Kyle knew Carl Ramirez was on the football team, but apart from that he knew nothing.

“Yeah,” Brent said. Then he took a long drink from the red cup, probably a rum or vodka mixed drink. A blonde girl who might have been a cheerleader got Brent’s attention, and he forgot all about Stanley.

Stanley came back over to Kyle.

“What did that have to do with anything?” Kyle asked. “He didn’t tell us anything!”

“Sure he did,” Stanley said calmly. “Now we know that Ethan will be here soon, so we have to watch out for him.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been doing that since we got here,” Kyle said.

“And we know that Carl Ramirez is here,” Stanley said, as if it should be obvious.

“So?” Kyle asked.

“So, Carl told Brent that Ethan will be here,” Stanley explained. “Carl is a friend of Ethan’s, and if he’s as drunk as Brent is, we might get something out of him.”

“Oh,” Kyle said thoughtfully. “You got all that from Brent just now? You’re good.”

Stanley smiled widely at the praise, and Kyle thought he saw a blush creeping up on his cheeks. Stanley turned away before Kyle could be sure.

“Let’s go find Carl,” Stanley said.

Kyle looked around the crowded kitchen, then back at Stanley as if he were crazy.

“How are we supposed to do that?” he asked incredulously. “This place is packed. We could be searching for hours!”

“Again with the negativity,” Stanley smiled at him. He walked past Kyle, and out of the room, leaving Kyle rushing to catch up again.

Kyle reached the door, and was about to leave the room when a flood of people entered. Kyle was forced back into the room as about twenty people all decided to refill whatever they were drinking. Kyle struggled to push through the crowd, like a salmon swimming upstream, until he finally made it out of the room. Stanley was nowhere in sight.

“Great,” Kyle whispered to himself.

Kyle pushed through the sea of bodies, some of which were angry at being pushed through, but Kyle didn’t seem to notice. He was actually starting to get a little worried, and he knew if he didn’t find Stanley soon, he’d be in a full blown panic in no time flat. Kyle moved on, quickly scanning rooms as he went. He kept moving until he ran into what to him felt like a brick wall and fell flat on his back, bumping his head on the floor.

“Watch where you’re going, pretty boy,” the wall of flesh said to him, and kicked Kyle in the balls.

The man-mountain moved on, but Kyle lay there in a tightly wound ball, protecting his aching privates. It didn’t look like the guy had kicked him very hard at all, but it felt like he’d been shot in the nuts with a bazooka.

After what felt like an eternity, Kyle was able to get up on all fours, and then raise his head to look around. He’d expected to find everyone laughing at him, but most were either too absorbed in what they were doing, or too drunk to notice Kyle. Some of course were laughing, and a few were pointing at him as they laughed, but it wasn’t bad enough that Kyle couldn’t handle it.

Then a fat kid Kyle recognized from his history class stepped on his hand, and he all but forgot about the pain in his groin.

“Get off! Get off! Get off!” Kyle screamed at the kid in agony, frantically beating on the kid’s leg with his other hand. It still took a good ten seconds for Kyle to be able to get his hand free, and when he did, he looked up to find that the kid was too drunk to realize what he’d done.

“Why you hittin’ me?” he slurred with an angry expression.

“You fucking broke my hand, you fat asshole!” Kyle screamed in pain fueled rage. He angrily tried to push his way past, bounced off the kid, then eased his way through a gap in the crowd.

Kyle cradled his hand as he doubled his efforts to find Stanley. His fingers throbbed with the pulse of his heartbeat, and Kyle had to blink back the tears of pain that had sprouted in his eyes. He got to the stairs, and since there were considerably less people up there, he decided to check the upstairs bedrooms. If only for the fact that he was beginning to feel a little claustrophobic with the sea of people on the bottom floor.

Kyle didn’t even see it coming. He was concentrating so much on the pain in his hand and his search for Stanley that he was blind to the rest of the party going on around him.

He couldn’t even scream when the grip of an icy hand covered his mouth and nose. He realized the true danger he was in as he was violently dragged into a bedroom and the door was closed. Kyle could feel the heat radiating from the guy’s face as he leaned in by his ear, and smelled the nasty scent of alcohol as he spoke.

“If you scream, it’ll be the last thing you do,” a gravelly voice said in a whisper. Kyle was shaking violently, and lost control of his bladder.

The room was dark, but he knew they weren’t alone in there. He sensed it more than saw it, because his eyes hadn't adjusted yet. He’d never been more scared in his life.

“Bring him here,” the other guy said. Kyle didn’t recognize either voice, but seeing as how he didn’t know half of the people in this party, that wasn’t surprising. They were speaking in whispers anyway, so it might have been someone he knew, but just didn’t know it.

Kyle was dragged further into the room, and then held upright before a dark shape in the center of the room. His eyes were beginning to adjust, but still could only make out shapes.

The second guy punched Kyle in the balls so hard his knees buckled. He was held upright by the hands at his mouth and around his neck, and Kyle couldn’t breathe. He struggled to regain his footing, and finally when he felt as if here was going to pass out he was able to stand again.

“Gonna teach you a lesson, you pathetic little shit,” the second guy snarled at him.

The first guy tightened his grip around Kyle’s throat, but Kyle could still breathe a little. They were harsh, rasping breaths, but it was something.

The second guy threw more punches into Kyle’s torso, and hot tears streamed down his cheeks. Kyle didn’t notice. The only thing that was real to him now was the ache in his body.

If you were to ask him now, he wouldn’t be able to tell you for how long this went on. It could have been many hours or just a few minutes, but Kyle was no longer conscious of the passage of time.

“Take the bitch’s pants off,” the leader of them said. At least he thought it was the leader. Kyle could no longer tell for sure who was who, he wasn’t really aware of much at the moment. He felt his pants being opened, and heard the sound of another belt being unbuckled. He clenched his eyes shut, silently releasing tears down his cheeks.

All of a sudden there was a loud knocking on the door. Kyle’s pants were around his ankles, but they hadn't had time to remove his boxers. The knocking on the door startled everyone, most of all Kyle. He just hoped it would be over soon. He hadn't been able to move for a few minutes now.

“What the hell’s taking so long?” a girl’s voice sounded through the door. One of Kyle’s attackers cursed, and buckled up his pants.

“We’re done,” he yelled back.

“Hurry the fuck up then, we don’t need to get caught,” the girl responded.

“Okay, fuck!” one of the others yelled, clearly pissed.

Kyle felt them grab his arms, and he was pulled into a standing position. They had to hold him up, because he couldn’t stand on his own.

“Do we put his pants back on?” one of them asked.

“Nah, leave them,” the leader said. He kicked Kyle in the balls again, and they let him fall to the ground.

“Time to go,” he said. Kyle heard them walk away, and instantly felt the relief through his pain.

The door to the room opened, and the attackers filed out, laughing to themselves.

“Geez, you guys really did a number on him,” the girl said. “Good work.”

“You’d just better hope the check clears,” the leader said icily.

“Watch what the fuck you’re saying,” Kyle heard the girl angrily say. Their voices were getting fainter as they walked away.

Kyle could hear the beat from the music from the party outside, but had no desire to even attempt to go out there. It’s funny the thoughts that pass through your mind when you’re in a situation like this. Kyle thought about how scratchy the carpet fibers were on his tender stomach that was exposed from his shirt riding up. He thought about how ridiculous he must look, lying with his pants down and his boxer-clad ass in the air. Most of all, he wondered just where in the hell Stanley was.

The door opened again, and Kyle, fighting the aching pain in his body, turned his head to look.

“Hey, are you alright?” the guy at the door said. Kyle recognized him, but didn’t know where from.

“Nnngh…” Kyle groaned.

The guy walked into the room and got a better look at Kyle.

“Oh my god,” he gasped. “Are you Kyle?”

“Yeah,” Kyle whispered, his voice sounding like a throaty croak.

“Shit man, your friend has been looking for you everywhere,” the guy said.

The guy leaned down, and turned Kyle over onto his back. Kyle winced in pain as the finger dug into his underarms. The guy pulled Kyle into a sitting position.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

“No,” Kyle whispered.

“Okay, then I’m going to lean you against the bed here, and I’ll go get help,” he told Kyle. Kyle nodded his head in response.

“Who…are you?” Kyle whispered as the guy leaned him against the bed.

“Michael Yates,” he said. Kyle smiled faintly, knowing now that he was going to be alright. Michael Yates was a friend of Leo’s. He knew Stanley.

Michael left the room as fast as he could, and looked around for Stanley. The party had started to wind down now, most of the rooms had emptied enough to walk through comfortably. Some people were passed out on the floor, and nearly all of them were drunk.

It took Michael only about five minutes to find Stanley, who was by now looking frantic.

“I found him upstairs,” Michael said. “He’s hurt pretty bad.”

Stanley’s eyes widened, and he took off for the stairs.

Stanley ran into the room, and immediately burst into tears at the sight of Kyle. Kyle’s face, apart from the look of intense pain, seemed to be unharmed. But his body, the skin Stanley could see was turning a nasty shade of purplish blue in places, bruises standing out in sharp contrast to the pale color his skin usually was.

“Kyle, mom’s on the way,” Stanley managed to say through his tears. “We’ll get you to the hospital.”

“Can you…” Kyle began, and then looked down at the pants around his ankles.

“Okay,” he said, and then as gently as he could, he pulled Kyle’s pants back up, covering his legs, restoring some sense of dignity to him.

Stanley stayed in the room, attempting to comfort Kyle, and trying to keep his mind off the pain. Michael went downstairs to wait on Stanley’s mom.

When she arrived, Michael took her upstairs quickly and Kyle passed out the exact moment she entered the room.