Chapter 23
The nighttime air stings like ice on my skin.
The sun inches closer to the horizon line past the sea.
I make my way to Mum’s bench. I’ve been so busy with life that I haven’t paid her a visit in a while.
She would be happy for me, I’m sure, even if things with the bronze family have been rough, and Kai’s still stuck in a coma.
I rub my angel necklace as I navigate through small sand dunes and tall grass to reach the bench.
I told Teddy I just needed some alone time.
He reluctantly agreed, but made me promise I wouldn’t do anything silly.
I think he’s worried about me after our conversation yesterday.
I think about him and his ocean eyes. I think about his smile and the way the lines of his face change when he’s happy.
I smile and chuckle to myself in the darkness of night.
I sit down on the bench and look out over the horizon. My hands are shaking as the thoughts in my brain run wild.
If you weren’t here, the Bronze family would leave everyone alone.
You’re the one they want.
You’re the loose end.
They should have just killed me when they had the chance. They don’t want me here because they know I want answers.
Maybe I should just give up.
But what do I even mean by that?
I slowly stand up. I inch closer to the cliff edge. The horizon looks gorgeous from up here. I sit down on the cliff edge, my legs dangling off the edge.
Back here again.
I don’t want to die. I know that now. I just want all this pain to end.
I look down and notice the rocks at the bottom. If I fell, I would crack my skull and die instantly.
Am I doomed to a life of looking down and pondering my own death? Part of me thinks I might be. Part of me also thinks it’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have bothered coming back here.
But it was a good last attempt at life. I fell in love. I made so many friends. I was happy.
I was happy.
I can be happy again.
I just need to get up and breathe. Then try again.
Something deep inside me makes me back away from the cliff edge. I sit back down on my mother’s bench, my body trembling.
I can’t do this on my own anymore, Mum. I need you to tell me what to do. I need your help. You were always good at helping me solve my problems. Where are you now?
My heartbeat quickens when I spot a figure in the corner of my eye. It might be late at night, but it isn’t impossible that a dog walker has simply gotten tired and decided to sit down on one of the benches.
But there isn’t a dog around him.
Suddenly, I hear a smash as the figure drops a glass bottle on the ground beneath him.
I stop, aware of how harsh my breathing has become.
I throw my hands into the pockets of my jacket in an attempt to get them to stop shaking.
I watch the figure intensely. He bends down and goes to grab the bottle.
I hear a sharp gasp as his hand pulls back.
My eyes adjust so that I can make out the blood on his hand.
Something tells me to get out of here while I still can. Yet my body refuses to move.
“Fuck,” the figure whispers, clutching his hand. He clocks my presence and I freeze. He disregards me, and brings out another bottle from his bag as he sits down next to me. I don’t look at him. I simply stare at the horizon.
Why is he here?
“You know, it’s so hard to make out anything when it’s this dark. I’m surprised neither of us have fell off the cliff,” the man chuckles. He takes a swig of his bottle and turns to me. “You wanting a drink mate?”
“Ah, n- no you’re okay,” I stutter, taking my hands out of my pockets to fidget with them. The man looks frail, like a walking sag of skin that can talk. When he turns to face me, my heart sinks. There’s burn scars and a Chelsea smile on the right side of his face.
“I come here a lot,” the man says, but I don’t reply. I don’t know what to say. I want to ask why he’s sitting at my mother’s bench so late at night, but I bite my tongue.
“You seem familiar, are you a local?” he asks, facing the sea, the cliff edge a few steps away.
“My mother and I lived here for years, but I recently moved back myself,” I say quietly. I almost kick myself for giving so much away to a stranger. He could be anyone!
“Where is she now?” he asks, almost too quiet for me to hear. My throat closes up and I’m unable to speak.
“Where is your mother?” The man asks again, this time much louder.
“She’s… she’s…”
“Is she dead?” he asks, deadpan. I simply nod, searching for her among the stars, but the sky is cloudy tonight. I look down at the ground. The man glances back at my mother’s plaque, then turns to me. His breath smells like booze.
“Mate c’mon, you can’t go through life like that.
You need to be firm with what you’re saying.
You need to be like, my mother is dead. She’s dead and that’s that.
There’s no room for this emotion you’re giving it, all you kids nowadays are too emotional,” he explains as I feel a sour taste in my mouth.
“I sound like my fucking Dad,” he chuckles while taking another swig of his alcohol.
“The thing about death is that we shouldn’t feel sad about it.
Some people are killed like dogs, some people live to eighty.
You shouldn’t bet you’ll have a long life.
Betting’s a mugs game,” he says, spitting on the ground beneath him.
Anger stirs inside me as I clench a fist.
“You know you shouldn’t spit in a place like this, people come here to mourn her,” I say, my blood boiling. I stand up as I say this and the man clocks my clenched fist.
“Pipe down mate, you don’t want to let your emotions get the better of you,” he says through his teeth.
“I think we should all get rid of emotions to be honest, it’s when we act on them that bad things happen,” the man says as I catch myself rolling my eyes.
He thinks he’s so wise yet all he’s really saying is that we shouldn’t feel anything, which is bullshit.
“You’re quiet.”
“You’re drunk,” I spit out without meaning to. The man laughs quietly to himself. He sounds like someone has taken a cheese grater to his vocal chords. Too many cigarettes I imagine.
“You’re too emotional, learn to pipe down, eh? That emotion will get you killed.”
Okay, enough is enough.
“Fuck off, what is this, a therapy session? What are you doing at my mother’s bench?” I say, rage gripping me tightly.
“Oh… right,” he says, chuckling to himself like a broken instrument.
“What’s so funny?” I ask the man who has now decided to stand.
“So, this is your mother’s bench? That would make you Noah Wright, right?” He says, chuckling again.
“Yeah? What’s it to you?” I demand, shaking inside.
“You have a nice boyfriend, Noah.”
“You don’t know anything about us,” I scoff, avoiding the man’s beady gaze.
“Teddy, is it?” he says, and suddenly fury sparks inside me.
Keep calm.
Keep calm
Keep calm.
Two other men walk up behind him, with masks on their face. One much taller than the other.
They’re wearing the same masks the Bronze Family wear. My throat suddenly feels like a desert. I stand up and back away from the men.
“What do you want from me?” I ask as he steps towards me, my feet slowly edging towards the cliff edge.
“My name is Stanley Bronze,” he says, and suddenly my legs grow weak.
“You’re part of the Bronze family.”
“Correct,” Stanley says, taking another step towards me. I take another step backwards, I can see over the cliff edge now.
“You know what we do, right Noah?” Stanley asks, grinning widely. His teeth are rotting away and his breath stinks. It makes me want to gag.
“You steal things.”
“Correct again!” He beams. “But you’re missing one key thing,” he states, taking another step towards me. I take another step back. I glance at the edge of the cliff, suddenly aware of how close I am to falling.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“We… take care of people who become an issue,” he barks as he takes out a knife. My eyes go wide. I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
“Fortunately for you, we gave you an option, since my father has a soft spot for you. We told you to leave, countless times. Yet you stayed. You chose to ignore our warnings.”
The men pour petrol onto my mother’s bench and I watch in horror as one of them pulls out a match. The match sparks, an orange light fills the scene.
“Please don’t! This is cruel!” I cry out as the one with the match catches my eye. He hesitates, but is bumped into, and the match escapes his grip.
I see it fall in slow motion. The match lands on the bench, and it instantly catches fire, spreading through every inch of the wood. Molten anger flows through me, threatening to spill out.
Suddenly, I feel a push on my chest, and I’m falling backwards off the cliff. A hand grabs me by my collar, and a knife is put against my throat.
“Listen very carefully. I want you to stay away from that boyfriend of yours. Stay away from that stupid bookshop. Get a train ticket and go home. You don’t belong here.” His knife leans into my throat, and I become hyperaware of my breathing. My shirt is threatening to rip.
“And if you don’t leave? My family and I will hurt everyone you love, including your pathetic boyfriend.
We’ll make you watch as we break each one of his fingers and rip his teeth from their sockets,” he sneers.
He pulls me up and pushes me to the ground.
My head hits the ground, and the whole world blurs.
“The look on your face when your mother died was priceless. It’s up to you whether or not we see it again,” Stanley threatens as the family walks off.
“You’ve got until tomorrow night. Say you’re goodbyes and fuck off,” Stanley shouts behind him.
I want to run after him and hurt him. I want to see him suffer with every fibre of my being.
But I don’t dare move. The waves roar as raging sobs fill the air.
“What the fuck do I do?” I whisper, hitting myself on the head repeatedly. My whole body trembles while my heart pounds in my chest. I struggle to breathe as I sob into the earth.
“FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU!” I scream as they walk away.
I can’t do this. I need to leave.
I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.