Chapter 27
“I’m really sorry, Miss Smith. We unfortunately weren’t able to locate Mrs Warren.” The detective gives me a quick look before turning to my foster parents again. “We assume at this point that she’s… deceased.” He almost whispers the last word like it’s a secret.
I’m literally sitting right here, dickheads.
“You mean she’s dead? Good. Not like she ever gave a shit about me anyway,” I scoff, folding my arms across my chest.
“Language, you little—” Steven—my so-called foster dad—scolds, raising his hand. I flinch away at the movement, but he quickly moves his hand back.
Yeah, keep your hands off me, bitch.
The detective clears his throat. “Is there anything else I could do for you?”
“No, thanks, mate,” Steven replies.
“Thanks for nothing,” Kirsty—the foster mum—mumbles under her breath.
Say it louder for him to hear, bitch.
I glare at them both as they walk the detective out. I know I need to leave, or Steve will put his dirty hands on me again.
My heart starts racing as I sneak out as quietly as I can and take a left through the shit-coloured halls into the kitchen.
The back garden door is open. Jackpot.
I rush towards the door, already being able to smell the green grass from here. I yank off my shoes and place them on the entrance mat by the door, then I step onto the dilapidated wooden boards and run down the steps onto the overgrown grass.
I wiggle my toes in the prickly blades before sitting down. The grass and weeds are so tall that they basically cover all of me out of sight.
As usual with our country's weather, it’s cloudy today, but the grass isn’t any less of a vibrant green to me.
I run my fingers through the stiff strands, marvelling at every shade on such a thin piece of plant.
Rustling sounds from behind me, and I spin towards it, already knowing it’s Malcolm from next door.
Pushing through the maze of grass, using both of my hands to separate it, I crouch-walk my way towards him. I can see his blonde hair peeking out through the foliage; he’s cuddled into himself.
He’s scared.
“Malcolm? What happened?” I ask.
He brings his small face up to me, and there are stains from crying covering his cheeks. His brown eyes are wide, and his body—smaller than mine—shakes as he sniffles.
“They took my shoes today,” he replies in his small, almost baby-like voice.
I quickly feel my cheeks burn with anger as I stand up straight and shoot daggers with my eyes at his parent’s house.
Malcolm was the first friend I made since being here—he was sad and needed help—and I knew what that felt like. I couldn’t leave him alone. Jac lives on the opposite side of town now. I don’t see him outside of school, which means both me and Malcolm are pretty lonely.
Malcolm’s three years younger than me, and from what I know, his parents don’t treat him very well.
I snarl before I turn to Malcolm and soften my face. I don’t want to scare him. I can get pretty scary when I’m angry.
“Wait here,” I say.
Running back towards the house, I quickly grab my shoes and make my way back over to him.
“Here.”
I crouch down beside him and tug his legs from out beneath his butt. I gasp when I see there are loads of cuts all over his feet, and he’s bleeding.
“Holy shit, Malcolm,” I shriek, then slap a hand over my mouth. “Holy… sugar!” I correct myself. “We need to clean your feet.”
I look around us, thinking of a way to clean his feet without bringing him inside. I don’t want to bring him inside that house of horrors. I don’t know what Steve and Kirsty would do if they caught me.
There’s nothing but grass around us.
“It’s okay, Xander. You don’t have to.” His small voice brings my attention back to him.
He grabs one of the shoes and carefully slides it onto his foot, hissing as he does it.
My leg starts nervously bouncing as I watch him. “Malcolm, you’re gonna make it worse,” I whine.
His hands start shaking, and I’m starting to panic. He must be in a lot of pain.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I wait for him to finish putting the shoes on.
“Done!” he says, and I can hear the happiness in his voice. When I open my eyes again, he’s standing above me, hands on his hips and a wide smile on his face.
He looks ridiculous with my massive shoes on him, but they’ll protect his feet.
“Malcolm!” an angry voice calls from the direction of his house. He jerks, and the smile falls from his face. Sadness fills me as he swallows before starting to head back towards his house.
“Malcolm, wait.” I stop him before he leaves. “Keep the shoes hidden outside. You don’t want them finding those.”
He nods and walks back towards his house with his shoulders bunched. I watch as he disappears into the grass.
I growl and rip handfuls of grass from the ground, wincing at the pain in my wrist.
Steve’s doing.
It’s always fucking him.
I’m so angry.
I want my dad.
Dad would know what to do.
He would make me laugh.
He would take me away from this horrible place.
I stand up from the floor and walk back to the house.
After making sure no one is around, I sneak towards the stairs and glance inside the front room. Steve is there with his big belly out, slouching on the sofa with a bottle of beer in his hand.
I gulp as I continue up the stairs to my room, making sure to create no noise.
He’s been getting worse recently. He comes home with a huge pack of alcohol almost every night after the pub.
And when he’s not at the pub, he drinks here.
The sound of smashing plates and thuds every night is normal.
In the morning, Kirsty sits in the kitchen and cries about how bad her life is.
Normally, that gets her a smack across the face from Steve, but last week, he broke her arm for it.
Not that I care.
It would be better if they both just killed each other and left me alone.
Forest—the teddy bear my dad bought me years ago—is exactly where I left him earlier.
I sprint towards my bed and grab him off the pillow, cuddling him into me but making sure to be careful of his arm that’s barely hanging on—thanks to Steve.
Two weeks ago, he ripped off Forest’s arm because I didn’t eat my vegetables at dinner.
He called me an ‘ungrateful little shit’ and snatched him off me.
He threw him at me in the middle of the night, and his arm was barely clinging on.
I hate him.
I only eat my vegetables because, according to my new PE teacher, it helps to keep you healthy.
“I miss you, Dad,” I whisper. My throat feels like the size of a tennis ball as I swallow, and my eyes start prickling at the corners.
I pull him away from me and wave his arm up and down gently.
I tried to stitch it back on him, but no one ever taught me how to stitch.
I’m so scared that one day it’ll fall off.
Something clatters downstairs, and I sprint towards my wardrobe, climbing in and locking myself inside.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be safe here, Forest.”
Squeezing my green teddy bear, I curl myself into a ball. He’s the only thing I have that brings me comfort when they argue.
Kirsty shouts. A thud sounds. Then silence.
The sound of footsteps carries up the stairs, and I push myself further into the corner. I start shaking, already knowing what’s coming.
The bedroom door opens, and Steve’s drunk voice fills the room. “Where are you, you little shit?”
I put my palm over my mouth, a sick feeling starting in my stomach.
“Where the fuck are you?”
Tears start falling from my eyes.
This is it; he’s going to hurt me now.
The wardrobe doors open, and the light from my bedside lamp shines on me.
“There you are.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I prepare myself for the beating I’m about to receive. Only, it doesn’t come.
Forest is yanked out of my grip. I snap my eyes open and watch as Steve starts cutting through him with scissors.
My stomach sinks. “No! Please!” I wail, tears now soaking my Minecraft shirt. “Not Forest! Please, stop!” My face starts hurting from the tears, and it feels like someone is stabbing my heart with a knife.
“Shut the fuck up, you little shit. You’re lucky it’s not you.”
Steve throws Forest onto the floor and leaves my room. I scramble out of the wardrobe and land on my knees in front of Forest. Only fluff and green thread remain.
It feels like a black cloud is wrapping around my head and my heart.
The only thing I had left of my dad.
The only thing that helped me feel safe.
Gone.
“Earth to Xander?” Jac snaps his fingers in front of my face.
“What?” I bark back at him.
“Woah, okay. Something’s happened. What is it?”
“What is it to you?”
The sound of the school bell interrupts us, and all the kids in the lunch hall start walking back to their classes. But I stay here. I don’t want to see anyone.
Jac is annoying me right now, but he’s the only person I want with me.
“Okay. Then we’ll both sit here,” he says and sits on the stool next to mine, leaning his elbows on the lunch table.
He’s had his hair cut again.
And by haircut, I mean buzzcut.
I keep telling him he looks better with longer hair.
“Hey, Estella!” he calls, and his voice cracks on her name, making me snort lightly.
“Hey, Jacques,” Estella replies in a sweet voice. My focus stays on the table, but I can hear the smile on her. And I know that’s all it will take for Jac to call this the best day ever.
At least one of us can enjoy life.
“Hey, Xander,” she says, and I lift my hand in greeting. “I have to get to class. I’ll see you around,” she says as her skirt passes our table.
“I’m gonna marry her one day,” Jac sighs, leaning back in his chair.
“Not with that stupid haircut.”
He punches my arm but lands his fist on an old bruise. I tense my arm and hold in my yelp, clenching my jaw.
Jacques knows about Steve and Kirsty. But I keep most of it hidden from him.
‘Your problems are my problems,’ he says, but I don’t want them to be. I don’t want my best friend to deal with any of the hurt that I’m dealing with.
“Tell me what happened,” he demands.
I sit up straight and roll my eyes at him. His shirt sleeves are pulled up to his elbows, and his arms are covered in pen ink. ‘Practice tattoos’ he calls them. Apparently his dad has a lot, and he says he wants to be just like him when he grows up.
“Do you need me to stab anyone?”
“If you wanna end up in the headteacher’s office, yeah.” I smile lightly at him.
He puffs out his chest and curls his arm, showing off his non-existent bicep. “I’m ready.”
We laugh together, and the reality of my life fades out for a while.