Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
ISAIAH / GHOST BOY
Fourteen Years Ago
Ididn’t know how much longer I could go on living in this home.
Surviving night after night in the hell they’d created.
I saw boys come and go, no one stayed as long as I did.
I was fourteen years old, and every day my prayer that someone would come and get me, or help me escape this wicked reality was withering to nothing.
My fight was crumbling to dust, but I still clung to hope with my bloody, broken fingernails, dreading the day that they tore off completely and I was left with nothing.
A dead boy that they’d throw away like yesterday’s trash.
“It’s sausage and mash tonight, love,” the new lady, that’d just started working in the kitchen told me, from the other side of the locked door.
She thought I was a troublemaker, a boy to be avoided at all costs because I had violent outbursts.
I kicked and scratched, bit and hissed like a wild animal.
I wasn’t mindful of who was around when that happened.
I didn’t care. It was becoming a them or me situation.
Kill or be killed. I think they knew that too.
I’d heard them discuss what they’d do with me, now I was getting too old.
It wasn’t good. My time was running out. I had to take my chances where I could.
They locked me in a windowless room in the day. I wasn’t allowed to sit with the others at mealtimes, and my meals were always served on a paper plate. No cutlery.
But today was different.
The lock clicked, and the door opened.
I scuttled backwards from my position on the floor.
The woman’s face wrinkled in disgust as she stood in the doorway.
I couldn’t tell if it was from the smell in the room, or the fact that all I had in here was a bucket for toileting, and a dirty mattress on the floor with coiled springs sticking out.
“Sausage and mash,” she said in a quieter voice as she bent down and placed a tray on the floor, then she backed out of the room slowly, her eyes never leaving mine.
When the door eventually closed and locked, I crawled on all fours to the tray and could hardly believe what I saw. A bottle of water, a China plate with hot food, and a metal knife and fork.
She was new. They hadn’t told her the protocol for feeding me. That woman was an angel sent to give me my last hope of escaping this hell hole before the devil consumed me.
I ate the food. Drank the bottled water. And stashed the knife and fork in the mattress to use later.
I didn’t see that woman again. Another member of staff came to the room later to take the tray away. The rest of the afternoon, I spent watching the door, waiting for someone to burst through and do a room check, trying to find the missing cutlery.
But they never did.
This was my only chance.
I could hear the other boys getting ready for lights out. The staff called out for them to turn off the lights and stay in their rooms. It was evening, and that meant one thing for me, excruciating pain and degradation of the worst kind.
I sat on the floor, my knees tucked under my chin as I hugged my legs and rocked to try and soothe my racing mind.
When the door eventually opened, I already felt like I would throw up. I usually did that during or after, but tonight, everything was different.
“Get up!” Wilson barked, storming into my space with Cane and Fraser behind him.
The three of them yanked me up by my arms and marched me out of the room, led me down the corridor, then practically threw me down the stairs as they pushed me towards the basement.
Usually, my legs gave way beneath me. They didn’t feed me much, just enough to keep me here.
But the new lady had given me a bigger portion today.
My energy levels were better than they normally were.
Not that they were good. I still felt weak, but there was something different tonight. Tonight wasn’t going to go their way.
I stood in the basement, staring at the table with the restraints. I couldn’t let them lock me into that tonight. I had to act fast. Be decisive and stay strong.
“You know the drill, Ghost Boy,” Fraser sneered. “Get on the table.”
Cane walked past me, heading to the cupboard where he kept his whips and chains. I had two men in front of me, and one I could deal with later. It was now or never.
Wilson started unbuckling his belt, dropping his head to pop the buttons on his jeans.
I took that distraction and used it, letting the fork I’d stuffed up the sleeve of my top fall into my hand.
I launched myself at Fraser, stabbing the fork into his neck as hard as I could, and then I raced towards the staircase.
“Ah! The fucker got me!” Fraser screamed, and Wilson stumbled as the jeans around his ankles stopped him from grabbing me. Fraser was clutching his neck, blood gushing through his fingers as he shouted, “Fucking get him. Don’t let him get away.”
I shot up the stairs, sensing their presence close behind, hearing their huffs as they chased after me. I still had the knife up my other sleeve. If I needed to, I’d stab them. I’d do anything to get away.
I made it to the top of the basement and slammed the door behind me to slow them down a little more. Then I ran through the corridors of the house, heading to the back door in the kitchen.
The place was empty; no other staff were around. I burst into the kitchen and ran to the back door, scrabbling to turn the doorknob, but it was locked.
“Fuck,” I cursed, grabbing fistfuls of my hair in frustration.
They’d find me in here soon.
I didn’t have much time.
I tried the handle again, throwing my body against the doorframe, but it was useless. I was stuck.
I started to open drawers, frantically searching for anything I could use to escape or defend myself. But they didn’t have anything useful. No carving knife or meat cleavers. I guess they locked those away.
And then I noticed the cookie jar in the shape of a policeman. A few years ago, I’d seen the staff laughing about the fact that when you lifted the officer’s hat, the jar hollered, “Step away from the cookie jar.”
They’d all thought it was hilarious. I hated it. It reminded me that I couldn’t trust the police. They’d done nothing to help me. But looking at it now, as I heard their thumping steps growing nearer down the hall, something told me to look inside it.
I don’t know why.
But it did.
I prayed it wouldn’t make a noise, alert them to where I was, and bring this to a disastrous end. If they caught me, they’d kill me.
I flipped the policeman’s hat to open the jar. A quiet mechanical sound crackled, but that was it. And at the bottom, was a key.
I grabbed the key, ran to the door and pushed it into the lock.
“Come here, you little shit,” I heard Cane shout, but I didn’t stop. I turned the key in the lock and thrust the door open, running out into the yard towards the fence at the back.
I started to hear banging on the windows and hollering. The other boys could see me from their rooms upstairs, and they were screaming at me, chanting and whooping, spurring me on.
I jumped onto a wheelie bin and then hauled myself over the fence. Once I’d jumped, and landed on the other side, nothing could stop me. I ran through the alleyway, racing into the fields behind. I didn’t stop until the only sound I could hear was the whistling in my ears and my own panted breaths.
“You’re free,” I gasped as I bent forward, pain radiating through me.
But it was pain I’d happily endure. It was nothing compared to what they’d inflicted on me.
“You did it.” I wanted to smile, but I couldn’t.
For over ten years I’d been abused in that home.
Beaten, starved, ridiculed and raped. I wasn’t sure I’d ever smile again.
I peered around in the darkness, wondering what to do next. I couldn’t go to the police. I didn’t trust them. They’d send me back. I couldn’t go to the hospital; they’d do the same. The only person I could rely on was me.
I hobbled through the undergrowth, trying to find somewhere safe to rest. Eventually, I found a dilapidated old shed. The door was hanging off its hinges, and the only things inside were cobwebs and spiders. It was perfect.
I lay down on the floor of the shed, peering up at the stars through the cracks in the roof. I’d piled stones in front of the door, so if anyone tried to come inside, I’d hear them before they found me and I could escape. And as I lay there, I felt a sense of peace for the first time in my life.
This was the first place I’d ever felt safe.