The Chapter That Never Happened

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
At the expectations of the irrelevant, I deliver the focus they crave.. This one's for you, buddy.

Submitted: September 28, 2015

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Submitted: September 28, 2015



The Chapter That Never Happened


All his texts centred on one thing, my chapters and what it would say about them. Them? Please, just who was Kyle in this tale? He had about as much of an appearance as a protagonist as Drew Barrymore had in Scream. Sure, Carla was relevant in 2015 and 2013, but even she faded into obscurity in 2014, and she was there. He completed his usual ritual of labelling me an "autistic psychopath." Not exactly the epitaph I'd desired. Where people like this get to give off about mental health considering what they're with, is simply beyond me, but he tried it all the same. 


"I know you're trying to get into my head with the whole her being with me because she couldn't have Jason." Wow, really? I wasn't trying to get into his head at all, if I had, I wouldn't be telling it to Jason, I'd be hammering it home to him, but, if I'd unsettled the calming demeanour of this prick, then that was fine with me. Kyle was clearly not aware of his irrelevance, existing only as a plot device and a middle man that relayed messages from me to Carla and vice versa. He kept banging on about how the chapters were all about him and her, but the reality was completely lost on him. Jason, sure, he was featured. But Kyle, the geekier timid version of his brother, the one less favourable with girls and less confident than a relegated teams morale. He was a cameo at best, he couldn't compete with his brother on most fronts, and here was another example. Not even in my stories could he overtake his prominence, and he was the one actually with Carla. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I've forgotten, perhaps Kyle was there all along for all these important moments I'd written about. Maybe I'd been ignorant or bitter in my memoirs and should've given him the appreciation of importance that he deserved. So here it is: Kyle's chapter.


 I'd remembered it all wrong, so many incredible moments would never have happened had it not been for Kyle, and being a hater of ignorance, the tribute should be paid. I can remember just a few months back, the situation at the station. Joe had just been humiliated and dispatched and Jason was about to begin his legendary sprint. Suddenly, swinging from a branch from up above, was Kyle. Adorned in a Karate gi, and donning his well deserved black belt, he delivered a chop from overhead that sliced off Drew's arm. In the next instant he span a roundhouse kick that hit Snelly with such force that as he flew backwards, a ripple in time gaped open and threw Snelly three years into the future. I humbly apologised, and he promptly strode away, arm in arm with an underwear model he was dating at the time. 


It wasn't the first time that 6ft 5 Kyle had demonstrated his incredible combat prowess. I remember at 17 when me and Chris were trapped in Shephall, in the woods, and held at the mercy of over twenty boys. Chris and I had both been hit and Stace roared into the clearing, demanding to know: "Who banged my boy?!" Lucky for Stace that he was not alone, as Kyle stood next to him, and the mere sight of him rendered several of the boys paralysed, and another wet himself in fear. Stace was all talk, but Kyle was the real deal, we were lucky to have him that night. 


As I fall further back through time, I realise that Kyle has been a consistent force that rescued us in times of imminent danger. Never more so than when I had confronted Leigh at the lyttons at 15. That day, I had felt as strong and assured of myself as ever before. I promised Leigh I'd do everything to keep him away from my family after his conning and infidelity. His laughter was only ended by my insults and eventually he resorted to picking me up by my neck. As I lay in the air, pinned to the wall by Leigh's arm, I saw his other arm raise itself to deliver the blow. I remember Matt and Richard rushing out to stop him. But no, that wasn't it. Lucky for me, Kyle was rehearsing his autobiographical musical "The Pimp", and he ventured into the hallway at just the right moment. With one finger he picked Leigh up and span him around, before his anger launched him into the barely standing wall at the side of the lyttons. The wall fell instantly and everyone inside the bar applauded. A few girls fainted, and one of the mum's orgasmed at the sheer display of power and sexual perfection. I stared up in envy, thankful envy. I couldn't compete with this womanising monster, he was ploughing girls through til next July, while I was left floundering.


The tournament, the final minute, and we were 2-1 down. Rhys was taking the corner and as the ball curled ambitiously through air, the opposition brought it down to Earth with his best attempt, and the ball fell behind him, right in my strike line. This was my glorious chance to rescue Berwick FC at the death. Here I was, still sporting a broken nose, about to prove myself as a player, a manager, and to adhere to my philosophy of never saying die. Before my left foot could dream of contact, Kyle paced past me and smacked this ball with his eighteen inch cock, causing it to fly into the top left corner. I assumed it was that corner, no-one actually saw it due to its speed, but there was a singed hole in the net, right in the top left. What a guy.


Slipping further and deeper through time, and there I was, at 14, arguably one of the best versions of myself I had ever been. Still too afraid to pursue destiny and ask Alicia out, I needed assistance from my best friend Chris. But Chris wasn't about, he had fallen lovesick after Kyle had banged all the girls Chris was crushing on. Doctors gave him a fairly good prognosis, but it was four months before Chris awoke from his envy induced coma. Thankfully, Kyle spared me this fate. Being the top notch, all round awesome guy he was, he gracefully accepted my pleas to put in a good word for me with her. I watched with sheer despair as he kissed Alicia on the cheek, and her face reddened with no haste, before he whispered delicately in her ear: 


"Tom baisers a moitie aussi bon." 


That was French for 'Tom kisses half as good.' Clearly half as good was good enough and Alicia instantly agreed to be my girlfriend. Although it took a few days for the reddening of her face to subside. 


I'm focusing too intently on minute detail. There's been loads of moments Kyle had transcended expectations and delivered unbelievable moments of pure perfection. There was the time he saved the street from sinking. The time he built 38 for us, in an hour. There was even the time he delivered me by forceps. The shame at leaving out such a prominent influence in my life is staggering. I just hope this goes some way to repairing that shame, I wouldn't want to be remembered as the ignorant one who refused to acknowledge the greatness of Kyle. Actually thinking about it, I don't remember him being there, for anything, at all. Instead I remember his movie-esque stutter at overtime. After he'd declared to what he erroneously assumed to be a stranger, that he was fucking the unfuckable Carla. I instantly indicted her on a charge of "what the fuck was going on?!" But again, his relevance was minuscule. The only other time I can recall him doing anything of prominence, is trying to stop me seeing Carla, a battle he couldn't win either. One his brother would have the final say in, and be the catalyst of irrevocable change. What he didn't realise, is while I agonisingly waited in the blistered cold that night, she had asked me to be there. They held her on their terms and she even whispered to me that night she wanted to go home with me. I declined, I was a man of my word. The real reason he wanted her to stay lies in his position now. I was not naive enough to not understand that his infatuation with Carla was an ever escalating danger to me. But, I assumed, Carla would recognise that she could do better than him, better than me, better than Jason. The fact she chose him was an unexpected ego boost. It inflicted the minimal amount of damage and reiterated the prediction I'd made back in April to Rhys. She can't survive alone.


How dare he stake a claim that he has any part in any of my story. How dare he make assumptions that he understands how I felt or what I care about. This sheltered little cunt has probably lived a life that simmers into mediocrity. The altercations with me were probably the highlight of his life. The guy didn't get his first girlfriend til 19, and even then he manages to replicate my folly and whisk up possibly the most damaged girl of his generation. I spose that's where we differ, I did know different, I did know better. I knew much better. 


He honestly believed his texts had any influence over me. He knew nothing of the struggle and turmoil I endured just to get here. He knew nothing of the illness that tore me to pieces and I did not recover to have this uninformed weirdo dictate to me what I should do. Before he threw his judgment at me, he should've taken a good look at his own record. Quite possibly the most defining male equivalent of Terri. An attention seeking liar. One who claimed he broke his ear in his sleep and may lose it. One who threatened suicide because some Jess wouldn't get with him. Who then reiterated his claims when she kissed Jason. Speak out if you see a pattern here. I didn't miss Carla, and I certainly didn't envy her. But it doesn't mean I forgave her. And it doesn't mean I forgot the damage she inflicted. I never received any kind of apology, nor witnessed any remorse. She was very able to pursue ruining my life until I bit back and she realised she'd underestimated me. If I had done nothing, she would've continued her mission and she'd still be laughing about it now. The only reason she defined it as unfair was because she was now losing. She could hide her resentment towards me with her fake smile, but I knew the impact my presence had. It wasn't until that night in September that this really hit home, but for my entrance to elicit floods of tears, now that said something. Plus it was unequivocally clear that whenever she caught me in eyeshot she'd kiss Kyle. Silly girl, dressed inappropriately as Tinkerbell, and awash with bizarre makeup, she should've known this would've had little effect. She knew I hated girls with their hair up as well surely? Why do that if you're not trying to prove something? Bite back Carla, that's all you can do, that's all anyone can ever do. If I could've I'd have showed her the night we danced with her friends and walked them home. I'd show her the selfie of me and Rosie, have her see me in Rachel's car. The difference is I had nothing to prove to her, only to myself. Wow, Kyle hasn't even managed to remain the protagonist of his own chapter. If she had wanted to arouse jealousy, she'd have had to have banged Chris in Berwick while watching Liverpool, with her hair down of course. 




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