by Angela Mack
“So, Big Mike’s still alive then,” Ryan muttered. I heard a hint of fear in his voice. My teeth were about to shatter, I was clenching my jaw that hard. Somehow that motherfucker had managed to live. Fuck.
Chapter 7
Isabel
I poked my fork in the mash, pushing it around my plate, my head lowered.
“Georgie, slow down please. Chew!” I lifted my head to look across at Georgie, my nose and lips twitching as I attempted to hide my grin. Mum told him to slow down at every, single meal. I felt too much shame and guilt to eat much, like my stomach was purposefully knotting itself up so I couldn’t eat―a punishment. But Georgie ate like a horse and it was lovely to watch. He was gaining more weight every day, and although he shovelled his food in like it was going to be taken away from him any second, he was looking much healthier. Mum and Dad were worried that with everything going on he would stop eating and start to regress. But why would he? He had nothing to feel guilty about, to feel shameful over. He was a bloody hero! He was the one who had the courage to leave his room, his safe haven, take a knife from under Josh’s bed and plunge it into their father’s back. I mean, how many nine-year-olds were seriously capable of that? Were brave enough to do the unthinkable to protect their family? I, on the other hand, had been too scared to tell my parents about Josh’s dad. Too afraid of how Josh would react if I had betrayed his trust. It was sickening.
“Bill promised me he was straightening everything out with the social workers,” Dad mumbled around a mouthful of food. “We managed to speak for a few minutes before we left, and he said not to worry.”
“That’s brilliant, babe! Thank God you did all that restoration work on his house. We’re lucky he’s taken charge of Josh and Ryan’s case.” I nudged my sausages around the plate, only half-listening to what my parents were saying, staring down at my food. I had been surprised to learn on the way home that Dad knew Superintendent White, or ‘Bill’ as he referred to him. I frequently lost track of all the different houses and clients Dad worked with, but I was grateful that he and Bill were familiar with each other―anything to help Josh and his family.
“I know. That house was a bloody pain, always something going wrong, but it means I’ve spent a fair bit of time with Bill over the years. He knows we’re good people.” Dad’s hand reached across and grasped Mum’s briefly before he resumed eating.
“Oh, and he’s dating Tracey, Josh’s best friend’s mum. Sounds like it’s pretty serious. That’s why he’s taken over. It’s personal for him, too.”
“I like Tracey,” Georgie piped up. “And Ollie is like a brother to me…” he tailed off, the word ‘brother’ making him clam up.
“He seems like a very nice young man. He visits Josh and Ryan almost every evening, after we leave.” I looked up as Mum smiled at Georgie. I hadn’t realised Ollie had been visiting so often. I should probably make an effort to talk to him at some point. The idea of it sounded exhausting. I hadn’t really had the energy to speak to anyone other than Mum, Dad and Georgie. No one else would understand and I couldn't be bothered to explain it, to waste time trying to make them feel what I felt. They couldn’t possibly know how I felt. Perhaps Ollie would, though.
“Izzy, I spoke with Mr Tapps today,” Mum began, and I tried to look interested. School was the furthest thing from my mind right now.
“He has agreed with your exam boards to offer you an extension on all the coursework you’ve missed, so that you still have a chance of keeping your grades up. I’d hate for you to have to retake this year.”
“That’s good,” I murmured, back to staring at dinner again.
“It means you’ll have to submit your missed coursework alongside your summer exams though. It’s quite a bit of extra work,” Dad chimed in and I shrugged. Summer felt like a lifetime away.
“We’ve also tentatively agreed that you’ll return to sixth form next Monday.” I slammed my fork down and glared at Mum, my eyes wide. Was she for real?
“Georgie, mate, as you’ve finished, do you want to watch a movie in your room upstairs?” Dad smiled encouragingly at him and Georgie nodded. He jumped down from the table, taking his plate into the kitchen. We all watched in silence as he loaded it into the dishwasher and then skipped out into the hallway, his feet padding up the stairs.
“Izzy, I know what I’m asking you to do is unbearably unfair, but you need to go back to school.” Mum put her cutlery down and folded her hands on the table in front of her. Dad leaned over and took her hand again. He tried to reach his other hand out to me, but I ignored it, averting my eyes so I didn’t have to see the hurt flit across his face.
“How can I go to school? I need to be with Josh. What if he wakes up and I’m not there? He needs me!” I was almost shouting at Mum, but she didn’t even flinch.
“I have taken some leave from work. I’m going to spend the next couple of weeks with Georgie and we will be visiting Josh every, single day whilst you’re at school. Josh will hardly ever be on his own. You can get the bus to the hospital straight from school to meet us there, or Dad will pick you up as often as he can.” I turned away, shaking my head with fury. This was unbelievable.
“You’re ridiculous,” I spat, vibrating with anger. Tears welled up, a combination of resentment, frustration and despair causing them to spill over. “How can I concentrate on schoolwork? On my A Levels? I don’t give a shit about biology or history right now!”
“Isabel, do not swear at your mother,” Dad warned.
“It’s OK, Charlie.” Mum put her other hand over the top of Dad’s. “Izzy, I need you to stop and think about Georgie right now.” I whipped my head around to stare at her, incredulous.
“Georgie needs to go back to school soon, too. He needs routine, some kind of normality. He needs to try and live his life.” I cried at her silently and watched as her eyes started to sparkle too. “If Georgie sees you go back, sees you trying to be normal, maybe he’ll find the strength to do the same.”
“But I don’t want to. I can’t act normal. Not when Josh, Josh might not…” The tears were coming thick and heavy, my words dying in my throat, like it was too much work for them to cross the distance between Mum and I. Mum stood up, hovering behind my chair. She leaned down, wrapping her arms around me from behind so that her head was on my shoulder.
“I know, honey. I’m sorry to have to ask you to do this. But I need you to be the strong and brave girl I already know you are.” I broke down, sobbing into her arms, my tears making her sleeves wet. I heard Dad’s chair scrape back and soon he had his arms wrapped around the both of us too.
“We will get through this, no matter what, Izzy,” Dad said, his voice thick with emotion.
“You’re not alone. I know you feel like you are, but you’re not. You’re not going through this alone.” Mum lifted her head and turned to look at me. I flicked my eyes up, making eye contact with her. I nodded. They both squeezed me again before returning to their seats. I stared down, numb. Mum took a deep breath and continued.
“Mr Tapps has arranged for you to speak to the school counsellor twice a week when you go back. He’s worked it around your timetable, so you don’t have to miss any classes.” I frowned at the table. I didn’t want to speak to a stranger. I didn’t want to talk to anyone.
“And if you don’t like them, we’ll pay for you to get counselling privately. You need to talk to someone about how you’re feeling, Izzy. You know you can tell me and your mum anything, but it won’t hurt to try and talk to someone professional too. They can help.” I could see Dad in my periphery, smiling in reassurance, but I didn’t respond.
“We want Georgie to talk to someone too. He needs to be able to talk about what happened,” Mum added quietly.
“Why do I feel like you’re trying to use Georgie to guilt-trip me into doing things I don’t want to do?” I snapped at her. Her face fell, tears rolling down her cheeks. I wished I could snatch the words back, shove them into my mouth and seal it shut.
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br /> “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, sweetheart. But you are all Georgie has left right now. He looks up to you like a sister. I―we―need to try and save this family. We will save this family.”
“I’m sorry.” It felt inadequate but I didn’t know what else to say. One minute, I was blind with rage, the next I felt sick with guilt, then I felt so alone, so depressingly alone, that it required a ton of effort to open my eyes each day. It was like my body was fighting me, like it didn’t want me to move. To move on.
“Please don’t apologise, Izzy. You have done nothing wrong and you are entitled to feel angry and sad and hurt and anything else you feel.” Dad gripped my hand, not letting me pull away. “We know we are asking you to be mature beyond your years and it’s not fair, you should be able to grieve however you want. But if you think you can, we would like you to try and go to school next week.” I nodded, not wanting to continue the conversation anymore. I pushed myself away from the table, standing to leave.
“Izzy, before you go―” I paused with my back turned to them, waiting for Mum to say whatever else she needed to. “We wanted to check that you were OK, that you are OK, with us formally fostering Georgie? You can say if you don’t want us to, it’s a big decision and―”
“Don’t be stupid, Mum. Of course I’m fine with it.” I walked away. As if I would have a problem with them fostering Georgie. I felt insulted that they even had to ask. I might be all Georgie had left, but he was all I had left too. I was not losing him as well.
Chapter 8
Joshua
It was a good thing I was invisible, or McNeil would question why I had been staring at him for over an hour. What are you waiting for? Just fucking go in there! My jaw ached. My palms were sore from my nails digging into them for so long, my shoulders and neck stiff. But it all felt muffled, like the aches and pains were unimportant. What was important right now, was going into that room.
Ryan had wandered off as soon as he’d realised it was Big Mike in there. He didn’t want to go inside. But I desperately needed to go inside, yet my feet refused to move. I was scared. Scared of what I might see, what I might do. The rage was coiling around inside of me, ready to unleash. It was making my fingers twitch, my knees bounce. I could feel it trying to force its way up from the pit of my stomach. I didn’t feel like me right now.
I tried to calm myself down, but all I could see was red. Ryan sprawled on the kitchen floor, his face beaten and swollen; red. Georgie, covered in blood, holding onto me; red. Lifting my hands up in front of my face and seeing the blood dripping through my fingers, my own blood; red. And that was enough to get me moving. It was like I was a puppet and someone else was making me move, making me do their bidding. I strode through Officer McNeil and into the room, my brain unprepared and trying to catch up with what my body had decided to do.
The blinds were down, and it was dark inside. I could see the glow from a streetlight outside peeking through around the edges of the window. Someone coughed and I turned to see another police officer sitting in a chair by the door. His head was down as he read a book propped up against his right ankle, which was crossed over his knee. I walked closer to the bed, to the man in the bed. There was a wall light turned on above him, the bright light washing over his face, giving him a yellow glow. His right eyebrow had stitches in, his eyes were closed. He had bruising all over his face, although nothing as dark and definitive as Ryan’s or my own. Other than his face, there was no indication that there was much wrong with him.
He was lying almost flat in the bed, his head resting on a plush pillow. His hospital gown was tight across his chest, his arms straining the material around his biceps. It wasn't muscle though. No, it was flab making up his bulk, and his belly caused the blankets to dome at his stomach. He took up the entire bed, dwarfing it. And yet, he didn’t look big to me anymore. He didn’t look menacing or threatening. He looked like an overweight, pathetic piece of scum. A fucking weasel. A shitty excuse for a human being. But why the fuck did he have to look so fucking peaceful? Like he was just taking a nap?
I stepped right up to his face, scowling into it. My nose was only an inch away from his. How had I ever been scared of this dickhead? I saw his chest rise and fall out the corner of my eye, his breathing easy and steady. The raging creature inside of me strained, filling my every pore. It was taking over again. My head throbbed and my vision blurred. My whole body started to vibrate. I reached out my hands towards his neck, wishing that I weren’t a fucking ghost, wishing I was real. But my hands didn’t slip through him like I expected them to. They found purchase around his neck. My eyebrows rose in surprise, but I didn’t stop, I didn’t ease up.
My fingers got tighter. The machine next to him that had been beeping with a steady rhythm in the background started to speed up. The officer glanced up from his book. He waited. I squeezed. The machine beeped faster and faster. Beep. Beep. Beep, beep, beep. The officer stood, taking a few steps closer. He leaned over to get a better look and jumped as Big Mike’s eyes flew open. My eyes drilled into his and I saw a flicker of recognition, of fear. He could see me. His pupils widened as his face started to turn a deep shade of red. I continued to dig my fingers into the flesh of his neck. The hammering in my head was almost unbearable, like my murderous demon within was trying to break out of my skull. He wanted Big Mike to suffer. He wanted Big Mike to die.
Two nurses and a doctor came flying through the door, McNeil closely behind them. They began shouting instructions at each other, but I tuned them all out. Just as I started to see the life in Big Mike’s eyes peter out, my hands slipped through him. They slipped through his neck, and through his pillow, through the bed. I fell forward, landing in a heap on the floor. The beeping from the machine began to slow again. No, no, NO! I scrambled back up, trying to clasp my hands around his neck. But they kept slipping through, dancing in thin air. I yelled in frustration as the doctor and nurses began to relax, their movements more measured, less urgent.
“Stop trying to save him! Let him fucking DIE!” I roared. But it was useless. I could hear that his pulse had returned to normal and his face was back to its sickly yellow pallor. Big Mike’s eyes fluttered shut and he sighed, a smile tugging at his lips as he fell back to sleep. Even now, he was mocking me. I tried one last time to strangle the fucker and growled when I failed, yet again. I curled my fingers in front of my face, glaring at my fingertips. Why wouldn’t they work?
“I am bigger. I am stronger. I am better than you.” I heard Big Mike’s taunt in my head, heard his wild laugh echoing around inside my brain. I opened my mouth wide and screamed. I screamed and screamed, expelling all the pain and hatred and fury into the air around Big Mike. As if that might make a difference.
“FUCK!” I screeched to the ceiling. “I don’t know what you fucking WANT from me!” There was a mug perched on Big Mike’s bedside table and I flung my hand at it before I ran from the room. I heard it shatter on the floor as I fled.
✽✽✽
The bark of the tree bit into my back through my t-shirt. I should feel cold, but I didn’t. I didn’t feel anything. I stretched my legs out in front of me, my knees clicking as they straightened. The ground was hard beneath my arse and I had been sitting for so long that I began fidgeting. Snowflakes floated to the ground, leaving a light dusting around me. It reminded me of when I used to pretend to be Santa for Georgie.
A few years ago, when Georgie was even smaller and before Big Mike spunked all our money, I tried to make a big deal of Christmas for Georgie. He still believed in Santa and one year, Mum couldn’t be bothered to keep up the charade any longer.
“But Mum! If we don’t leave a mince pie and carrots out, Santa will think we’re rude! And his reindeer won’t have the energy to go on to the next house!” Georgie tugged Mum’s hand, trying to capture her attention. She shook him off, smoothing her hair behind her ears as she checked her makeup in the mirror. She stood straighter, pulling her shoulders back, twisting to look at the
back of her dress. It was black silk and clung to her shape, the low back exposing her skin. She nodded at the mirror, happy with what she saw.
“Michael!” She shouted towards the stairs. “We’re going to be late!” She waited by the front door, tapping a high-heeled foot in impatience. I was sitting on the bottom step, watching as my brother tried again to reason with her.
“He won’t leave us any presents!” Georgie squealed, eyes tearing up.
“Oh, for God sake, Georgie. Santa isn’t real.” She turned back to the mirror, swiping a long finger at the corner of her lips, before reapplying some lipstick. Big Mike came barrelling down the stairs, barging past me and knocking my shoulder into the wall. I rubbed my shoulder and frowned at his back as he tucked his shirt into his trousers, stalking towards Mum.
“Ready?” Mum smiled at him. He grunted in response, opening the front door and ushering her through it.
“Josh, we’ll be back late. Don’t wait up!” she called as she waved in my direction. The door slammed and Georgie ran towards me.
“Georgie―” I tried to talk to him, but he threw himself around me, beyond my reach, his bedroom door crashing shut behind him.
“What’s going on?” Ryan emerged from the kitchen, chewing on a cereal bar.
“Mum being a bit of a bitch to Georgie,” I muttered.