‘I didn’t want to wake you.’
‘Wake me?’ He scoffs. ‘Boy, you walk around this place like you own it.’ He steps inside, his sour breath closing the remaining distance. ‘Where’d you get the stuff, huh?’ He snatches the bag out of my hand.
‘It’s just protein.’
‘Protein?’ He laughs, tossing it at my chest and I catch it before it falls. ‘Course it is. How’d you afford that? You holding out on me?’
‘I gave you what money I had.’
The bottle swings towards me and I back up.
‘Don’t lie. You think you’re clever, but you’re not. You oweme, boy. Everything you’ve got, everything you are, is because of me.’
‘You taking what food we got left too.’ Mum’s voice cuts in behind him. ‘Standing there stuffing your face while we go without.’
‘Gowithout?’ I flip as rage rushes my veins. ‘All you ever go without is a clear tox screen.’
That does it. Dad lunges and I duck, his fist driving into the wall.
He yelps, the bottle hitting the deck as he spins around, clutching his hand.
‘You little shit. You think just because you’ve won a few fights, you’re better than me!’
No. If anything, I think I’m worse.
And it’s eating me alive… but keeping me alive too.
‘Come on then!’ He swings again and I slip left, but he keeps on coming. ‘Show me what you’re truly made of.’
‘No.’
‘Don’t wanna fight your old man?’ He sneers. ‘Fifteen, and still a crybaby, eh?’
My fists clench. Every part of me wants to lash out. To show them I ain’t weak. I take a determined step and I’m stunned still when he shrinks back.
Then I see it. The fear behind his eyes, see it and feel it. The trading of places, the shift in power. My gut rolls. Confirmation of it right there. I’m worse. And I know, if I let go now, there’ll be no stopping me. No coming back.
‘Get out of my way, Dad.’
He laughs like the maniac he is. ‘Hear that, Stacey? The boy wants me to move.’
She gives a jittery laugh, biting at her nails. ‘Then let him go. We’re better off without him here.’
She wraps herself around Dad, but his eyes don’t leave me. ‘Where you gonna run to, kid? Nobody wants you out there either. You were a mistake from day one. Damaged goods, inside and out. Everyone sees that.’
The words hit harder than his fists. Because I know he’s right. I was a mistake. I am damaged. Shaped by them. Ruined too. My throat burns. Tears sting. But I won’t cry. Not over him. Not over anyone.
I swallow it down and push past them, flee into the night, and this stupid memory claws up – of me doing the exact same thing years ago. Only back then, no one noticed me as I legged it. Now they see me, and they step wide.
Good.
I hit the high street, fists still flexing, anger still burning in my blood.
Only trouble and pissheads are out this late, so it doesn’t surprise me when I clock a bunch of lads hanging outside the shuttered corner shop, looking shifty as fuck. I’m in no mood to get into it with them tonight. I step into the road to pass on by when I spy the two kids they’ve got pressed up against the metal. A boy and a girl. Thirteen, maybe. Faces white under the flickering streetlamp. And then I see the flash of a knife.Shit.
My chest goes tight. I should keep walking. Nobody ever stepped in for me. But I can’t. The anger’s still in me, fizzing under my skin, and now it has somewhere to go. Something to do.
‘Oi.’ I step forward. ‘Back off.’
