Goodbye Teddy

by Stockholm, JD

  They sit on the sofa and it feels funny to see him. I look at him and then I look away again. Alan goes to make coffee, and me and Michelle sit opposite them. I feel like it’s wrong that I sit down. I wasn’t ever allowed at his house unless he said so. It makes me want to stand up, but I don’t. I hold my hands together between my legs and try to hug myself away.

  He doesn’t really say anything to me. Maybe he doesn’t want to be here. He makes me feel scared inside. I think about if he is sorry. Maybe he doesn’t remember. Maybe he missed me. Maybe he will tell Michelle and Alan that I made my mum die.

  My dad looks different, like he is thinner, but he looks older too. It feels like I went away for a long time and now I have a hole inside. It feels like when I miss my mum, but my dad is just here. He doesn’t really talk to me or smile or say anything at all. He puts his hand on Joanne’s knee and he doesn’t ask me anything about me. Nothing at all. He doesn’t care; I know that. Maybe he is always going to hate me for what I did. I am sorry.

  “Well?” he says. “Where is he?”

  Michelle smiles, and then she goes to get him. He is in the back room asleep in his pram. Will likes it in there; it is dark and quiet. We don’t talk at all while Michelle goes to get Will. I look at the floor and my dad looks at the wall. I feel scared inside, maybe he doesn’t want to be here.

  Michelle brings Will in and takes him to my dad, but his girlfriend takes him instead and she looks at him. She talks about him like he is her grandson, but he isn’t. She talks like she is my mum, but she isn’t that, either. She tells me they are going to get married. I don’t say anything about it.

  “We have just bought a building,” she says to me. “It was in a fire, but we are going to make it into flats. We were thinking that you, Michelle and Will here would like one of them. It will have two bedrooms, a lounge and a kitchen.”

  I don’t know, but Alan comes in and hears what she says. He thinks it’s a great idea and so does Michelle. I don’t think I want to live in one of my dad’s flats, but I don’t know how to say no about it. I just nod, and they all talk about it. Joanne says they will be ready in January.

  My dad is also going to the motorbike races next weekend. “Do you want to come?” he asks me. I haven’t ever been to one with him before. My dad seems very strange. He talks funny too. Not like he is drunk, but very fast. Joanne does the same. It is a little hard to tell what they are saying. Her eyes look big and huge.

  I tell my dad that will be nice, and he says he will pick me up at lunchtime and not to be late or forget about it. Maybe he will come this time? I hope so. But I don’t get excited just in case he changes his mind and doesn’t want to take me anymore.

  “Now you have a son, perhaps we should be friends again,” he says to me. “Build some bridges.” He says he is trying to get off the drink. After losing my mum, he just didn’t know what to do.

  Joanne pats his leg. “I saved him,” she says. “I even got him to sell all the old bikes he doesn’t use.”

  I don’t say anything about it. My dad hugs Will, and then he brings him over to me. He smells like old whiskey, as always.

  “We were at a party last night,” Joanne says to me. “We haven’t been to bed yet. Your dad nearly fell asleep driving the car home again.”

  I don’t say anything about it. My dad is different.

  Seventy Nine

  My dad is supposed to come at two to pick me up, but it is nearly four and he isn’t here. I keep checking out of the window whenever I hear a car or a bike, but it isn’t ever him. I don’t know why I check or why I think he is going to come this time. I stand outside and smoke my cigarette just so I can watch for him to come, but he doesn’t. I’m sure he has forgotten again.

  I should just go to Michelle's. I am supposed to see Michelle and Will after I have seen my dad. He was going to drop me off there, because the bike races are at the sand dunes where me and Lewis and everyone used to take the moped. Then I’d stay until Sunday and Alan would give me a ride back. But my dad isn’t here.

  I stop looking. I am such an idiot. I don’t know why I fall for his stupid lies all the time. He doesn’t mean it when he says he will come and take me out. I sigh and go upstairs and sit on my bed for a moment. I will just go and see Michelle and Will instead. I miss them so much.

  Someone knocks on the front door, and Alan shouts up that it’s my dad. Maybe I got the time wrong; it makes my stomach turn over from excitement. Maybe he meant four and not two. I get so many things wrong. I am stupid after all.

  I say goodbye to Alan, and then I follow my dad out. I ask him where my brother is. I haven’t seen him for a long time. “He didn’t want to come,” my dad says. “He has seen the races every year.” It makes me feel a little sad when he says that. My brother doesn’t like bikes, but he got to go and I didn’t. I don’t say that to my dad, though.

  I get to the car, and I have to sit in the front next to my dad. My dad’s friend is in the back. He smiles at me, but I don’t smile back. I don’t like him. I haven’t seen him for a long time. Not since my mum tied me up, and he was there. He makes me think about that, and I don’t like to. I just look out of the window, instead. Maybe I should ask my dad to take me to Michelle's instead of the races. I want to go to them, but I don’t want to be with his friend.

  We drive towards the sand dunes, because that’s where the races are. They always have them there because it’s so far back, the tide doesn’t really come all the way up, and it’s just masses and masses of sandy hills. Me, Michelle, Lewis and Rebecca used to go there all the time, even without the moped. It is just a nice place to go and have a mess around. At times like these when the races are on, though, it’s all marked off so people don’t get in the way of the bikes and get hurt.

  I watch out of the window as we drive past everything. My dad waits at the traffic lights, but when they go to green he doesn’t turn right like he is supposed to. “Where are we going?” I ask him, because I have been to the sand dunes a ton of times; I know the way.

  “We’ve had a change of plan,” his friend says to me from the back seat.

  “Yes, but where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise,” my dad says, and it makes me feel sick. I don’t like his friend. He did many bad things to me. I don’t want him to be here. I don’t like my dad’s idea of surprises. I know what it means, and I don’t want to go.

  I don’t say anything to them, but I look back out of the window, and I can feel my hands shaking. I don’t want my dad to know my face gets hot because I am scared. I know what he is going to do. I stare at the houses as we drive past and watch them; people in their gardens going places, people inside. I wish I could be there. I wish I was them and not me, and then I would be safe and not scared. I try to keep my mouth closed so my dad doesn’t hear that I can't breathe properly.

  We stop at another set of traffic lights. We are on a lane I don’t know. It is the other way from the sand dunes. I don’t want to go wherever my dad is taking me. I open my door and unfasten my seatbelt so fast so my dad doesn’t have time to do anything, and then I jump out and run. I run so fast. I don’t care if I get hit by something. I run right across where the lights are and to the lane at the side. I don’t know where I am going, but I don’t care. I have to get away from my dad and his friend.

  I hear a car coming, and I know it is my dad, but I run anyway. I try to run as fast as I can, but my legs can't go fast enough. I turn to look to see where he is, but my dad stops the car, and he and his friend jump out too. They shout my name, and then they run towards me.

  He is bigger than me and he is faster. I run so hard that I am almost crying trying to make myself get away, but it doesn’t take my dad long to catch me up. He reaches out and digs his big hand into my arm, and his long fingers squeeze my skin. I try to fight him off, but he stops me from running, and then he drags me back and I can't stop him. I try. I try to shake him off me, but it’s too hard.

  “Get back in th
e car,” he yells at me, but I try not to. He pushes me but I hold the edge of the roof so he can't make me get into the car.

  “Let me go,” I shout at him, but he just keeps shouting for me to get back into the car.

  Another car stops near us. He was going the other way. The driver gets out and comes near our car. My dad lets go and stops pushing me. “Is everything okay?” the man asks me. “Do you need some help?”

  I stare at the man. Yes, yes, I need help. I say it in my head, but I don’t say the words to him. They are right there. I want him to help me, but if I say yes, I know my dad will get in trouble. I don’t want him to. He didn’t do anything bad.

  “Everything is fine,” I tell the man, and I don’t want to cry because I lie to him, and I do want him to help me.

  The man stares at us. Maybe he doesn’t believe me. “Are you sure?” he asks, and I nod. I get into my dad’s car just to show the man that there is nothing bad. The man watches for a second, and then he gets in his own car and drives away again.

  My dad closes my door, and I put my seat belt on. His friend gets in the car and sits right behind me. My dad doesn’t say anything to me, but when he drives and has to stop, he reaches over and then he grabs my arm so I can't get away again. But I'm not going to. I don’t want anyone to see and then maybe get in a fight with my dad.

  We get to a house. It is big and white, and I haven’t ever been there before. “This is one of my new houses,” my dad says to me. “I just bought it.” I didn’t know my dad was going to buy a new house. I look out of the window at the house. It looks nice, but it has a skip and things outside because I guess my dad is fixing it up.

  I tell my dad the house looks nice. My dad leans over me, and his friend gets out and opens my door. I can't run away even if I tried. His friend is in the way. I feel stupid, though, about trying to run away. All my dad wanted to do was surprise me with his new house.

  We walk to the door, and my dad opens it, and we go in. He doesn’t have a lot of furniture. I don’t think he lives here, but there is an old television and an old sofa in the lounge. The rooms are all big, but the paper needs changing; it’s all faded and peeling, and I can see the shapes where someone had pictures hanging before.

  The room smells like old cigarettes and beer. My dad and his friend come in behind me, and my dad locks the front door. “Do you like it?” he says to me. I look around and nod at him. I tell him it’s nice.

  My dad puts his arms on my shoulder and guides me into the lounge. “Sit down,” he says to me. Its dark in there, but I don’t tell my dad to open the curtains or anything. He puts on the television and asks me if I want something to drink. “I even have cans of coke if you want one.”

  I nod at him and sit on the sofa like he says. My dad goes to the kitchen and comes back with a drink for me. Then he says he’ll be back very soon, and he leaves the room and goes upstairs.

  I can hear him and his friend up there. I don’t know what they are doing. It feels like ages before I hear them walking. I have finished my can and changed channel on the television, and when they eventually do come downstairs, I don’t know what time it is. My dad hands me another can and a glass, but the glass has something in it. It’s clear like apple juice. He smiles at me, but it isn’t his happy smile. It’s that smile I don’t like - the one that makes his eyes look funny and I know he is thinking about something bad.

  “Drink it,” he says to me and sits next to me on the sofa. His friend sits on the other one near me.

  I take a sip; it is sweeter than anything I have tried before. I don’t know what it is. It’s so fizzy the bubbles from it jump from the glass and up my nose. Whatever it is, it tastes nice. My dad keeps refilling my glass. I can feel my eyes get heavy and it’s late. I don’t know what time it is, but my dad puts the lamp on because it’s getting dark.

  We had been watching some other racing thing on the television, but my dad turns it over and puts on a porn film. I try to look away because I don’t like to watch those with my dad. They remind me from when I was little. I don’t like them. I don’t even let Lewis watch them, because they make me feel bad inside.

  My head feels like it is spinning in circles, and my eyes want to close and go to sleep, but I try to keep them open. My dad gives me a cigarette. I didn’t even know he knew I smoked. I light it, and then suddenly it is nearly all gone, and I don’t remember smoking it. Time feels funny. I lean over to put it into the ashtray on the coffee table, and I don’t know what happens. Something bangs so hard at the side of my head that I have to catch myself to save from falling on the floor.

  I turn and look at my dad. I know he has hit me, but I don’t know why. I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t really know what happens but my dad jumps onto me. My head feels funny and all I want to do is sleep, but it hurts inside my head. I don’t understand why he hit me. He didn’t shout or tell me what was bad. Maybe it’s because I tried to run away and made him look stupid?

  I try to get myself up, but my dad is on top of me, and he pushes me so I fall off the sofa and land between that and the table. His friend stands and pulls the coffee table out of the way. I shout at him to stop it. I ask him what I did and I tell him that I am sorry. I try to shout it all, but my head doesn’t want to stay awake. I beg my dad to please stop. I didn’t mean to try to get out of the car. I was afraid. “I’m sorry dad, please don’t,” I say to him, but he hits me across the face, and then his friend comes and holds my shoulders down.

  My dad lifts my top up, and I try to stop him. He scratches my skin because I fight too much. They don’t take it all the way off, though; just enough, and his friend uses it to tie my hands above my head.

  I can't move, and my dad unfastens my belt and jeans and pulls them down. I beg him to stop. I say dad so many times because I know what he is going to do, and I don’t want him to. “Please dad,” I say, but he isn’t listening, and his face is mad.

  They make me roll over onto my front, and I hear my dad’s jeans. I am crying and asking him to stop, but he doesn’t. I don’t know how long it takes. It isn’t like before. He doesn’t say nice things to me. He makes it all hurt. They both do. They both do everything to me, and even when I am sick on the floor, it doesn’t stop. I give up fighting them. It doesn’t matter. It all hurts too much. Maybe they can kill me. They take turns. I hope I die soon.

  I don’t remember passing out, but I must have done. I lie there for a moment and don’t know how to move. Everything aches and my face feels funny. I don’t know where my dad and his friend have gone. I don’t think about anything. On the floor is blood and vomit. Everything hurts. My dad’s friend bit me many times. I can feel them against my shoulders as I move. I hurt inside. I am bleeding there too, but I loosen my hands and put my top back on, and then I pull my jeans on too. I want to go home.

  I don’t look for my dad. His keys are on the coffee table. I just let myself out and go home. I don’t even know how I get there.

  Eighty

  Every time I move, it hurts. When I sit, I do it carefully and hold my breath so no one notices. I haven’t heard from my dad. It’s been over a week now. I don’t talk to anyone about it. I haven’t talked to my dad. He didn’t call to see where I was.

  Alan asked about the races. I shrugged. Michelle asked why I never turned up to see her and Will. I shrugged at her too. She got mad at me, but I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. When I see her and Will, I just sit there and watch the television with them. Everything seems so pointless. It makes it hard to breathe. Every time I try, it makes me feel like I’m crying inside my chest. I wish I could just go away, and then nothing would hurt. Not inside or outside.

  I read my books and try to get lost in that, or draw for my art class so I have a nice portfolio made for when I start. I don’t even know why I do that so much. For Will maybe? He’s the only good thing I have. Sometimes when I look at him, I just cry. I'm sorry he has me for a dad. I'm sorry he has to be part of my life. I
wish he wasn’t here sometimes, and then I can go away and it won’t matter. But now I can't. I don’t even ask God to take me away, because if I die, who will make sure no one ever hurts Will. I don’t want him to ever sit alone and cry about things.

  I don’t let Michelle see when I cry. I don’t tell her things. I don’t touch her or go near her. I’m still bleeding. When I go to the toilet, or when I get changed, it’s there. It smells strange too. I hope it will go away soon.

  Michelle and Will are coming to Alan’s today. I have to do some sketches, and I think Michelle is happy to come just to get out of the madhouse she lives in, because of all her brothers and sisters. It feels odd when she comes around; more so now maybe. She brings Will in and I look at him. I want to hold him so bad, but I haven’t properly; not since my dad. I just lean in to him and breathe so I can smell that scent he has. I’m not good enough for him. I know that. I am sorry. I feel bad that one day, he will grow up and know how bad everything is. I wish he could stay a baby forever.

  Michelle asks if I mind watching him while she goes to town. I am just drawing, and she has some things she wants to get from town. Her mum is going there alone, so she can meet her. I tell her it’s okay. Alan is here too.

  It’s maybe an hour later when he starts to cry, and Alan is trying to do some work. I tell him I’ll take Will upstairs. It feels strange to hold him when I haven’t really for a couple of weeks, but I take him to my room and lay him on the bed after changing him. I lie down next to him, wincing as I move because it all hurts too bad. I cry as I lay with him. I cry because it hurts to move, but I cry because I don’t understand, either.

  I stare at Will. I wonder what I did to make my dad hate me so much. I couldn’t ever hurt Will like that. I don’t think I’ll ever hit him, either, not even when he is bad. He falls to sleep, and I turn my head into the covers and just cry until my head hurts. I don’t want Alan to hear me. I hold Will’s little hand and tell him I am sorry.