Chapter 6
AXEL – ‘THE PROTECTOR’
Twenty-Five Years Ago…
I shove open the front door with my shoulder, then stop dead, listening.
The hallway’s dark and damp like always. The stench of stale fags and booze, no different.
Welcome home, Ax.
The TV rumbles behind the lounge door, the flickering light seeping through the crack at the bottom. Next door’s dog barks through the paper-thin walls on one side; old Mrs Potter’s radio blasts away through the other. But no voices.
Good.
If I’m lucky, Mum and Dad are passed out in front of the telly. Or better yet, down the local on a lock-in. I ain’t checking.
My stomach growls like it’s trying to eat itself and I head for the kitchen. It’s always like this after a fight. Once the rush dies, the savage hunger kicks in. And it won’t quit until I eat.
I push open the kitchen door, careful not to catch my foot on the lino curling up, and start digging through the crap on the side. Dirty plates. Takeaway tubs. Empty boxes. Nothing.
I try the cupboards. Half a loaf of mouldy bread. Stale biscuits. Dad’s tin of weed. A bag of flour from one of Mum’s ‘good days’.
Great.
I crack open the fridge and nearly gag. Something’s dying in the back, I swear. But last time I binned anything, I got the back of Mum’s hand. Not doing that again.
There’s an open can of beans shoved in the door. I give it a sniff. Good enough. I grab a spoon, wipe it on my tee and jab it in. Fill a glass with water and take the lot to my room.
I’m rifling through my clothes, yanking out my stashed bag of protein powder, when the door creaks open.
I freeze.
‘Going to bed without saying goodnight?’
Dad’s voice drips with mockery and I turn to look at him.
He’s leaning into the doorframe, a bottle of cheap vodka dangling from his hand.
‘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 owe me, 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.’
‘Go without?’ 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.’
They turn, the kid with the knife grinning like it’s all a joke. I recognise him from the cages. And he recognises me, judging by the way his grin slips, and I stare back.
‘Did I stutter?’
‘Come on,’ the one beside him mutters, tugging at his sleeve. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
The gang shifts, then peels away, their curses trailing into the night, and I watch them go, jaw tight, fists still balled. Only when they’re swallowed by the dark do I look at the two kids.
‘You better get home,’ I say, ‘before they think to come back.’
The boy nods, his dark-blond hair falling over his face as he bends to pick up a pair of glasses that have been knocked to the floor. He cleans them off on his shirt and blinks up at me. ‘Thanks.’
But it’s the girl who locks me in place: the way she’s staring at me, eyes big and round, and filled with something.
I’ve been looked at with hate, pity, fear, disgust, the kind of respect a fighter like me earns with his fists. But never like this. And whatever the hell it is… it rattles me.
‘I’m Taylor,’ she says, her voice way steadier than it should be after what just went down. She steps forward and slides her small hand into mine. ‘This is Theo.’
Her fingers are soft against my scabby knuckles, but the shock of it rips straight through me – stronger than any right hook I’ve ever taken.
‘Axel,’ I say on autopilot.
She smiles and her whole face lights up, lighting me up with it. My stomach flips and my chest feels like it’s gonna burst.
The lad clears his throat, and I realise I’m still clutching her hand. Idiot. I release her and thrust my fingers through my hair, but they’re still on fire with her.
I guess I should shake the lad’s hand too, but I don’t wanna lose the feel of her.
‘You fancy hanging out?’ she blurts.
The lad scrunches up his face. ‘I’m sure he’s got better things to be doing with his night, Tay.’
He shoves his glasses on, blinking behind the lenses before eyeing me top to toe, every dirt and bloodstained inch. I wait for him to freak. Freak and run.
He doesn’t. Instead, he cocks a brow. ‘Unless you’re hungry?’
‘Hungry?’ I frown.
‘Yeah. My mum runs the best chippy in Hackney if you fancy some?’
‘I haven’t got money,’ I say dumbly, too thrown by his offer to think straight.
‘It’s on the house. We owe you.’
Later, I walk Taylor home from Theo’s to make sure she gets there safely.
Truth is, I can’t bring myself to leave her company just yet.
And it ain’t like I have anywhere else to be.
I don’t know whether it’s the feeling of having a stuffed stomach for the first time ever, the aftereffects of eating a really good hot meal, being in the easy company of Theo and his family, or her. But I’m all warm and kind of fuzzy. Like in a really, really good way.
There’s the buzz of winning a fight, and then there’s this.
And I’ve never felt anything like it.
She pauses at her door, voice hushed as she spies movement through the front window. ‘You best go. It looks like my dad’s home.’
The hairs on my neck prick up at the fear in her voice.
‘Are you scared of him? Or… is it me?’
‘God, no. It’s not you.’
My shoulders relax, and immediately hitch again when she adds, ‘It’s him.’
‘He hurts you?’
I’m ready to charge her door, fists forming at my sides.
‘No. He doesn’t hurt me, not physically anyway. He barely knows I exist.’
Shit. I know that feeling.
I drag in a breath, scuffing my toe against the path. Still not ready to go.
‘It’s just easier if I get inside without him noticing.’
She needs you gone, idiot.
‘I gotcha.’ I jam my hands into my pockets and start walking backwards. ‘It was good to meet you, Taylor. You and Theo.’
She nods. ‘And you. You take care, yeah.’
I nod. ‘Always. Night, Taylor.’
‘Night, Axel.’
I force myself to turn before I do myself an injury—
‘Axel?’
I look back. ‘Yeah?’
‘Thanks for saving us.’
I feel my mouth curve up, heat creeping all the way to my cheeks. ‘No worries.’
‘Can I— can we see you again?’
The ground shifts, my heart slamming so hard, I swear she can hear it.
‘Do you want to?’
She gives me that easy smile, the one that lights me up inside, and flips my gut. ‘Yes.’
‘Okay then…’
I almost dance into the night, lighter on my feet than I’ve felt in years. And that’s saying something for a fighter known to dodge every hit and come back swinging.
Thanks for saving us.
Her words linger, and I have the strangest feeling that it’s the other way around…
Those two kids might’ve just saved me.