Kitty's story
Kitty's story.
It had stopped raining. New York in the spring was a slushy grey mess. Kitty's heels clicked down the sidewalk, blending with the sounds of cars rushing, horns blaring, and everywhere people talking. Usually Kitty loved the sounds of the city. Today was different. She was being followed. They had been following her ever since she'd left the police station.
Stupid stupid stupid! What made you think you could win? Or get away with it? What made you think he would ever let you go? Her story had been typical, cliché almost, Kitty reflected, herr sarcasm aimed all inward.
Small town girl moves to New York to make good. Meets a guy at a bar, he's sweet and charming… at first. Joe was young, handsome, and charismatic. That charisma had come with a certain aura of danger. But unlike the bad boys shed liked in high-school, Joe was dangerous. Kitty had slowly become aware of that danger in the months she and Joe lived together. So typical, a fight, then flowers, apologies, presents, an escalating cycle, how could I have missed it? Was I that in love with him? She paused in front of a store window, and quickly glanced at her reflection, the bruise on her cheek stood out against her fair skin. It had been enough to concern the cops, but not enough to get them to actually DO anything.
More slowly this time, she scanned the crowd behind her, no one suspicious stood out, but she knew that didn't mean anything. Where do I go? What do I do? They already thought I was paranoid at the precinct. The only thing she could think of was to keep moving, try to loose them. Maybe the police were right. She should just leave; get on a train and go… away. Joe had been exciting and suave, had made her feel important for awhile. But finally it had become too much. This last time he'd gone too far, slapping her across the face so she fell, cutting her cheek on the coffee table as she went down. She'd stayed down, sobbing as he, swearing in Italian, stormed out of the apartment. Looking in the mirror, she'd known she'd had enough. The fear of what Joe would do to her if she left was finally less than the certainty of what he'd eventually do if she stayed. So she'd grabbed her purse, the money Joe kept on the dresser, and left.
Kitty had tired the police station first A mistake, that, they were watching. She realized now it was foolish, the cops had just told her to go home to her parents, leave town, avoid him, run along, we've more important things to do. And run along she had. She'd practically run down the steps of the police station, and nearly collided with Bevo, one of Joe's friends. He'd grabbed her elbow, trying to pull her close. She had managed to twist it free, and ducked through the mid-day crowd, weaving across the street, down the block, nearly running, hampered by the flow of people as much as hidden by it. When she dove into a convenience store a few minutes later, out of breath, Bevo was nowhere to be seen. Out of reflex as much as a need for cover, she bought a packet of cigarettes and stepped back outside.
Kitty's relief was short lived however. Bevo, or someone else had caught up with her. She kept seeing him out of the corner of her eye.
She turned away from the window and kept walking. The rain had stopped but the wind was cold, it smelled like the ocean. Usually Kitty liked the wind, it was part of the city, it woke her up and kept her sharp. Today, though, none of this registered, she was, she realized, running for her life.
Before she could react, two men appeared on either side of her. Too close. They were both tall, dark, wearing dark jackets and sunglasses. Even as she registered their presence, each one slipped his arm through one of hers, gripping hard. Something sharp pressed into her left side, through her jacket.
"Joe wants to talk to you. Come with us, quiet now, or I will stab you here in the street. Wouldn't take you long to bleed out, I do it right."
Kitty's chest tightened, air came in short gasps as she nodded quickly. The men hurried her along, almost dragging her.
"Look straight ahead!" The right hand one hissed as she tried to get a look at him.
They continued in silence. After a couple of minutes they turned right, then left, then right again, off the main street, onto a side street, still occupied by a large number of pedestrians, and then into an alley. Kitty's breath froze for a moment. Alley is not good, not good! Was all her panicked mind could summon.
Halfway down the alley waited three men in suits. As they approached, Kitty recognized Joe, standing in the middle. He looked so young compared to two flanking him. The other two, like Joe looked pure Italian. Actually the one on the right looked enough like Joe to be his father, the other was roughly good looking, but balding. This one sported thick glasses. Both men exuded calm control and ruthlessness. Kitty realized she'd never learned Joe's age; he couldn't be much older than she was, she'd just turned twenty. His eyes were completely cold, mesmerizing, dead. Like a snake, or a killer. It was that look, and that thought that had so shaken her the night before. Too late.
"There you are. Bitch. Thought you'd go to the police?" A small smile turned up the corner of his mouth "No one turns on me."
"Joe-" She tried. He backhanded her. But with both her arms locked in her captors' there was nowhere for her body to recoil, her head snapped back painfully. Somehow this loosened her paralysis. Her mind raced for a moment and she did the only thing she could think of; Kitty screamed for help, somewhere back on that street, there were people, there had to be people within hearing distance. She screamed again, and again. Begging for someone to help, call the cops, anything. One of the thugs put his hand over her mouth. Joe laughed.
"Ah, let her scream eh? No one's calling the police in this neighborhood, its one hundred percent Italian." It was true, she thought. It was why she'd moved here. Her parents had known someone who knew someone who'd said they'd take care of her. And she had, the old lady had given her very cheap rent on, admittedly, a very cheap studio apartment. But she'd moved out of there to be with Joe, just a few weeks after moving in.
Stupidstupidstupidstupid. She tried one more time "Help! Oh God call the police, help!" This time Joe's fist silenced her. It also broke her nose, sending blood flowing into her mouth and down her shirt. The thugs released her as her legs went out from under her. "help" she whispered. "Mary Mother of God, help me." She watched as the man on the right drew a knife. It glinted silver in the weak sunlight as he handed it to Joe with a nod. Breathing fast through her mouth, Kitty tried to scramble to her feet her mind racing, but this time in prayer. Hail Mary full of grace, blessed- a hand seized her by the hair, she reached up and grabbed hold of the hand, not to try to loose the grip, but to hold on so her hair wasn't pulled out. She looked Joe in the face, worked up a mouthful of blood and spit it at him as hard as she could. Blessed art thou among women-
This time Joe responded with the knife. For a moment Kitty could barely feel it as it slid in, up under her ribcage. And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Hail Mary-Christ, but the second blow she felt, she cried out, and heard it echo off the alley walls. The next blow sank in between her ribs on her left side. Determined, she finished the prayer Mother of God, pray for me now, at the hour of my death. Joe sank the knife in two, three more times, and then the thugs let her slide back to the ground. Funny, Kitty thought, the pain of her already bruised knees hitting the concrete registered through the fire in her lungs and belly.
She reached out, to keep from falling over; her hand grasped someone's forearm. It was Joe, squatting in front of her, looking into her face with a detached interest. Her vision was going black at the edges, she couldn't draw breath. Her eyes were having trouble focusing; they slid over Joe's shoulder. She could see the end of the alley, people walking by, not sparing a glance down the alley. If any did, he looked quickly away, indifferent. The pain was building, hard, unbearable, Kitty could hear herself whimpering. Joe was still looking at her, the way a few in her class had looked at the frogs they dissected, still alive, in 11th grade biology. She wrapped her free arm around herself, feeling the blood oozing out, looking down, she saw how much had already escaped, and saw too Joe's hands, one holding a knife, bright now with her blood. Kitty started to slip sidways, and tightened her hand on Joe's arm, nails digging in through the fabric.
Without breaking eye contact, Joe brought his right hand up, and positioning carefully, drove the knife up under Kitty's breastbone, into her heart. Kitty closed her eyes, and sank down further onto the stone. She still gripped Joe's arm though, and pulled him down to her. She whimpered and coughed a little more, the blood from her broken nose still running into her mouth and choking her, he leaned down, smiling slightly and whispered:
"No one crosses Joe Yakavetta bitch, no one." He started to rise.
"Joe." The word was hardly more than breath. "Joe, in the end, no one escapes justice. One day-" she coughed again, this time the blood came up from her lungs. "One day, someone you fuck over will destroy you, someone you don't expect. 'The truth will out' Joe, and I want you to remember me when that happens." He laughed, and pulled her hand from his arm. Standing up, he withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped off his face where blood had landed on it. At his feet Kitty struggled to draw breath, as her blood spread on the concrete. He stood there one moment longer, as if considering something of little importance. He looked over to the older men, they shared a glance then nodded. One of them reached and clapped Joe on the back, then gestured to the other men. They turned, and all just walked away.
Kitty closed her eyes as the sound of footsteps faded behind her. Vengeance She thought. Revenge She prayed. But then- no that was not what she wanted, even for Joe Yakavetta. Truth she prayed. Holy Mary, Someday let the truth of who he is bring him to Justice. Please; let there be someone to bring him to Justice. It was her last thought. She prayed for Justice and Truth, dying in a New York alley. As the rain started to fall she drew her last breath.
It was in that moment, in Galway City Hospital, half the world away, twin boys opened their clear blue eyes to the world and drew their first.
