Chapter 14 Faith
FAITH
The familiar aroma of cigarettes hits me as I walk into the house. I never thought I’d be back here, but I guess Mum was right all along about bikers. I mean, she was married to one.
Bottles line the worktop next to a sink full of pots. Seems nobody’s taken on my chores since I left.
With a sniffle, I wipe my nose with the sleeve of my hoodie and fill the sink with warm water, squeezing out the last of the washing up liquid from the bottle on the sink.
“I told your mother to do that.” Nigel says, startling me.
I turn around to see him leaning against the kitchen doorframe. “Where is she?”
“Out. It’s two for one on drinks at bingo.” He rolls his sleeves to his elbows, then pulls out a tea towel from the drawer. “Want to dry and I’ll wash?”
I take the old worn out towel from him and dry the dishes as he places them on the draining board. “How can you put up with Mum?”
Nigel shrugs. “She needs help with her drinking. But I don’t stay for her. I stayed for you.”
“For me?”
“I wanted to make sure my muffin was taken care of.”
A shiver slides down my spine when he calls me muffin, but I say nothing, just like all the other times he’s used the term of endearment.
“I didn’t want her blaming you if I left.” He reaches out to touch my cheek and I flinch, but he continues to stroke my face with his knuckles. “She never understood the bond we have.”
“Bond?”
“I always wanted a little girl.” He wipes my cheek and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
Despite me hating it when he touches me, I push it aside, reminding myself he’s just being friendly, and this is not what my brother insinuated. Or my mother thinks.
“Tell me, muffin, who’s upset you?”
Thoughts of Hayden’s betrayal resurface.
I gulp down his name on the tip of my tongue.
“Just a boy.” Tears pool again in the corners of my eyes when I think of Hayden and what I thought we had.
All our time together was based on lies.
I know it’s not even been a week, but I really thought he was the one.
Tears drip onto my cheeks, and a strangled sob escapes from my throat. “I thought he loved me.”
Nigel slides his arms around my shoulders.
“There, there, muffin. Let it all out.” His hand cradles my head, holding it against his chest. The smell of his sweat clings to the fabric of his t-shirt and I hold my breath, but let him hold me.
He’s being nice. Nicer than Mum would be.
She’d just tell me she was right and throw the ‘I told you so’s’ back at me at every opportunity.
“Leave the rest of the pots till morning. Come and sit in the living room.” With his hand on the small of my back, he guides me into the room.
Mum’s ashtray overflows on the coffee table, next to a bottle of vodka.
“Want a drink?”
“Sure.” I don’t normally drink, but I need something to numb the pain. Is this why Mum drinks so much? It’s as if she never got over Dad’s death. Since then, she’s hated the club and hated my brother for staying loyal to them.
Nigel pours me a tumbler half filled with vodka. “Want it mixed with juice, or you want it neat?”
“What will get me drunk the quickest?” I sound like my mother. It’s just tonight. I just want to forget just for tonight.
Nigel’s lips curve into a sinister smile. “Atta girl. Neat.” He hands me the glass and I take a gulp.
My throat burns. The cheap vodka is like liquid fire, making my eyes water.
Nigel sits on the armchair opposite, legs spread, watching me with eyes too focused and hungry, but he listens as I talk. With each drink, I spill another secret until there’s no more vodka and no more secrets left to tell.
I lift my hoodie over my head, feeling hot and dizzy.
“You’ve grown up so fast,” he says, swirling his own drink. “Not a little girl anymore. You’re a woman.”
I shift uncomfortably on the sofa, tugging at the hem of my top that fits snug around my breasts. His lingering eyes are making me all too aware that it’s two sizes too small. “Maybe I should go to bed.”
“Sure, muffin. Want me to tuck you in?” He smiles as if it's a joke. But it’s not.
My pulse skitters. “I’ll manage.” I stand, a little unsteady from the vodka. The room tilts slightly, and I grab the back of the couch for balance.
Nigel stands too, stepping closer, blocking my path. “Let me help you.”
“Thanks.” My voice is barely above a whisper.
He brushes a hand down my arm. “You deserve someone who sees how special you are.”
I recoil slightly. “Nigel…”
He doesn’t stop. His fingers brush my hair back again, the way Hayden did—but it feels wrong. His hands are cold and slimy. Not warm and comforting like Hayden’s.
“I always told your mum I’d take care of you.” He's close. Too close. Stale nicotine from his breath makes me nauseous.
I take a shaky step back. “I’m tired. I’m going to my room.”
He grabs my wrist. Not hard, but firm. “Don’t be like that. We were having a nice time.”
Panic flickers in my chest. “Let me go.”
“You’re just drunk. You don’t know what you want right now,” he says, voice low and coaxing. “But I can make you feel good.”
I wrench my arm free and stumble backward; the tumbler falling and shattering on the floor. “Don’t touch me!”
“Don’t act like you don’t want it,” he snaps. “Flaunting your tits, teasing me.”
“I said no!” I scream as a blow lands on my cheek and knocks me back onto the sofa
My vision blurs, either from alcohol or fear. The room spins and everything goes sideways. I make it to the hallway, then halfway up the stairs, before everything fades to black.