About the Book
Title: Violence Begets
Author: PT Denys
Genre: YA LGBT Fiction
After a tragic accident devastates his family, 16-year-old Rick St. James starts his junior year of high school without any friends in a suburb of Salt Lake City, Utah. When he meets Kevin Vincent, he’s too distracted by the promise of new friends to see that Kevin has secrets of his own.
Having created an environment where he’s feared and admired by his classmates, Kevin finds pleasure in using his good looks and violence to control and manipulate those around him. Secretly, he cruises the gay club scene, turning tricks to earn money so he can party and get high.
As Rick’s dad becomes increasingly violent and abusive at home, the two form a surprising and volatile trust. In this battle of wills, their precarious friendship will either keep their lives from blowing up around them or possibly light the fuse that will cause the explosion.
Author Bio
PT never imagined she’d actually publish a book. But, the story of Violence Begets… haunted her for over 20 years, and the lives of Kevin and Rick had to be shared.
In addition to writing a sequel, she divides her time between family, work, attending theater and reading.
Above all else she loves being a mother to 2 amazing daughters (a teenager and a baby).
PT believes that no one deserves to be intentionally hurt (physically or emotionally) by another. She also believes that behind nearly every bully is a story.
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Excerpt
Chapter 5
Rick
I’d never met anyone like Jessica! We seemed to hit if off from that first day we met despite my inability to communicate with her that morning and while Kevin kept me busy hanging out with the guys, every spare moment I had I found myself wanting to text or talk to her. It was mind blowing when she leaned in to kiss me at Kevin’s party. I would’ve never had the balls to make the first move with her; she was just so far out of my league.
I couldn’t help but think this over and over in the days following. Not only did she kiss me, it turned into a full make out sessions. It was all over school, she was the ‘it’ girl, the all the guys wanted her and she’d picked me. Not even Kevin could kill my good mood.
Several days after the party, I came home to my dad pacing in the front room. I didn’t like him home so early. But I didn’t spare him much thought because I was thinking of Jessica. I was remembering how she had tasted sweet and how as I kissed her in Kevin’s basement, everyone had been watching. She even let me go up her shirt a little before she stopped me. It was the furthest I’d ever gone. I thought I might be in love with her.
“What is this?” My dad’s voice ripped into my daydreams. I looked at him for a split second before wandering to the guitar case sitting in the middle of the room. I bit down on my lip, not trusting myself to keep my mouth shut. “I found this in your closet.”
I wanted to ask what he was doing in my room but simply stared at him. My instincts told me not to push him.
“We went through all this in California. You’re not to play this. Get rid of it.”
“No.” I took a deep breath. “I’m not playing anymore, but I’m not getting rid of it.”
“It’s a distraction. I won’t have you out there wasting time and money on some childish dream to be a rock star. If you won’t get rid of it, I will.” As he reached for it, I lunged and grabbed it.
“It reminds me of him.” I said without thinking.
“Of who? Of him? Oh no, he had nothing to do with this.”
“Yeah he did. He believed in me. I don’t care what you say, Jason loved me, he gave this to me and it’s all I have left of him.”
“I told you never to say his name to me.” I ignored him, wanting to hurt him like I was hurting.
“He always helped me hide it from you. I may not play now, but one day I will and I won’t let you take that from me.”
“What do you mean he helped you?”
“I mean he helped me get to guitar lessons and he hid my guitar in his room.”
“Liar, he did not. Stop talking about him that way.”
“Jason loved me and supported me and he lied to you to protect me.”
“He’d never lie to me.” He screamed at me.
“It was all his idea to keep it hidden from you. Yeah, you’re poster child of a son came up with the idea to lie to you to help me. He chose me over you.”
“The hell he did!” he yelled.
“He loved me…”
“You just don’t get it do you?” He screamed at me. “I should’ve been you!” He took several steps towards me. Panic screamed at me to run but he was too quick. The back of his fist slammed against my face and I stumbled and fell into the Christmas tree. Pain started to spiral from the spot he connected with, my vision swirled as the tree crashed to the floor. I wondered why I had even put the stupid thing up. I tried to scramble away from him but got tangled in the tree limbs and lights. I felt the glass of an ornament slice and burn into my hand as I crushed it into the carpet. My stomach tightened in knots as he reached for me and yanked me to a standing position, instantly ripping me from the prison of the tree.
I struggled to get away from him. I somehow managed to fight my way out of his grasp and ran towards the stairs. I made it half way up before he caught up to me and I felt the carpet burn my knees as we crashed to the floor. I was able to kick free and half crawled half ran the rest of the way to my room. He was right behind me and pushed me just as I tried to shut the door. His fists were flying at my face as I slammed sideways into the door, arching my back from the pain. I saw blood and a tooth fly from my mouth and was fixated as it landed. I lost my focus when his knuckles caught under my chin, cranking my neck backwards.
I landed hard on my back and rolled over to my side, curling into a ball and covering my face as he slammed his dress shoe into my stomach. I watched as the tiny white scuffmarks flew towards my face. Then I felt his foot crack something in my body from behind and I wondered briefly how I’d ended up facing the other direction. At one point, I caught a glimpse of his face and couldn’t quite understand why he had tears falling wildly from his eyes. I thought I’d see anger or hate, but devastation just didn’t fit with the pain my body was feeling at his hands.
He took several steps back when he saw me looking at him and then turned and ran from my room. I heard him leave the house and stared blankly at the door he’d run out of. The world spun around me. I could taste the blood running from my nose into my mouth. I tried to focus my eyes but everything was so blurry from my tears and it made me sick to try. I wondered when I’d started crying. I heard something behind me and braced myself for another assault.
“Saint Ricky?” I heard a familiar voice. “What happened?” It was Kevin. This was so not what I needed, I thought. “I came to tell you… I mean I forgot…I came in your window to tell you….fuck” He trailed off. I’d never heard him clamor for words before.
“Go away.” I forced out in a breath, realizing at once that I had broken ribs. I didn’t know how to explain things to him. I flinched as he placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t move.” He commanded. Not threatening, but still Kevin. I heard him leave my room quietly. He returned moments later. “Now come here.” He said kneeling down next to me. I wanted to crawl under my bed and hide from him, from my dad. But his voice was almost hypnotic to me and I found myself obeying his calm commands. I attempted to sit up and cried out before I could stop myself. Slowly he took my arm and wrapped it around his neck. He waited for a second to let me get use to the position then said, “Now try” and I did.
I took a deep breath and braced myself for the pain as I used his body to lean against. I gritted my teeth and slowly pulled myself into a sitting position. I leaned back against my bed, refusing to look at him. He reached up with a warm damp towel and started to wipe blood from my face. He put a bag of ice against the right side of my cheek. He wasn’t overly gentle or tender, almost like a doctor just doing what needed to be done.
“Here, hold this here.” He commanded. I reached up and pressed the cold bag against my face, my fingers instantly chilling at its touch. He finished cleaning up the blood then got me a clean shirt. “Put this one on.” I looked down at my t-shirt and saw that it was covered in blood. I stared at it, blinking, confused by the different shades of red. He stood back and waited patiently. “You need to change.” I looked up at him and he nodded slightly. With every breath and every move my ribs caught fire. My face felt like a balloon. Finally, he sat next to me on the floor.
“You going to tell me what happened?”
What was I supposed to say to him? My dad hates me and freaked out on me because he wants me dead instead of my older brother.
“Your dad did this.” It wasn’t a question. “I saw him storm out of here.” I couldn’t find the words to admit to him what had happened. “How long’s he been doing this to you?” He asked with a cutting edge. When I didn’t answer he said more forcefully, “How long?”
“This is the first time.”
“Really?” He looked at me skeptically. He must have seen something in my face to make him believe me. “What set him off?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I have time.”
“Not now.”
I expected him to push again but he didn’t ask any more questions. I got lost in the shock of what had happened. I ran through it over and over, wondering what I’d done wrong. If I’d only kept my mouth shut. I always had to learn things the hard way. I wondered what would happen when he came home.
Finally he asked, “You okay to be alone tonight?” I looked at the clock and realized he’d been sitting with me for over two hours without saying a word.
I thought about it, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Call me if he comes after you again.” He walked to the window. “I’m serious, if you need something call me!” He was harsh but I knew if I had to, I could call him.
“I will.” I said hesitantly.
“Wear a long sleeve shirt tomorrow to hide the bruises.” Again, with the commands. “You can’t hide what’s on your face, tell people we got in a fight tonight with some guys. I’ll back the story up.”
“But you don’t have any bruises.” I said feeling embarrassed. It would look like I got a total beat down in a fight and he didn’t.
“Don’t worry about it, just do it. K?”
“Fine.” I said, still not liking the idea but thought it was better than telling people my dad did it.
“Night, Rick.” It was the first time he called me Rick and not Ricky or Saint Ricky.
“Thanks.” I answered uncomfortably. He jumped out my window without a reply.
About the Book:
