CHAPTER 6
Fourteen came around quicker than expected.
Birthdays didn’t feel any different from any other day.
There would be no cake or candles. No stacked presents in the front room like other kids would boast about on their birthdays.
Nope, just the same cracked walls and damp-stained ceiling.
I was used to it by now. The last present I got was a jacked-up bike that I later found out someone had stolen from a kid’s front garden a few blocks away.
And even then, it was more for Danny’s own gain, as it made drops easier for clients.
I pulled myself up on the mattress, rubbing away the sleep from my eyes.
Squeeks was still fast asleep, sprawled out as her hand dangled down the side of the bed.
We tried sharing a bed once, she kept telling me she didn’t like me sleeping on the floor.
But my God, she is such a fidget, practically kicked me out of the bed.
My eyes drifted to the end of the mattress. Squeeks had made me something—a card made of folded scrap paper from an old school notebook. On the front, she’d drawn me with a cape and a bandage on my cheek. Inside, in her shaky little writing:
“To Screech, Happy Birthday. You’re the best brother in the world. I love you more than anyone ever. From Squeeks xxx”
A small smile appeared on my face as I glanced towards her once more.
I left the bedroom, heading down to the kitchen to find something to settle the empty feeling in my stomach.
And to my surprise, there was a singular box of cereal stuffed into the cupboard.
I poured myself a bowl, leaving enough for Squeeks for when she woke up.
My body slumped down at the kitchen table, the coldness of the chair causing my skin to ripple as I sat back.
My eyes rose at the sound of shuffling slippers heading down the hallway as I picked at the dry cereal.
Mum slumped down on the opposite side of the table, leaning her head onto her hand as she looked at me.
“Party tonight?” She asked, the scent of alcohol radiating from her. I stayed silent, just offering her a shrug. “Big day, right? Might as well celebrate.”
Celebrate! Don’t make me laugh. Not one part of this had anything to do with it being my birthday. It was just a good excuse to get fucked up in her eyes.
Parties meant something different in this house. Hallway fights breaking out, and the music being too loud for the neighbours. Mum in a cheap dress and Danny selling things in the kitchen he didn’t want anyone asking about. I didn’t have a choice; she had already decided.
People packed the house as the darkness rolled in—all the usual faces of Danny’s chums, and too many new ones.
I hadn’t seen that creepy kiddy fiddler since that night, but it didn’t stop me from keeping an eye out.
When I questioned Mum the day after, why she would let something like that happen, she just shrugged and told me to fuck off.
Fucking pointless.
In the meantime, I just had to deal with Danny, his amplified annoyance with me spilled from him. I guess it didn’t go as planned, and I wasn’t the right kid for him. The thought of it both amused and disgusted me at the same time.
Loud laughter boomed around the house, and bottles passed like currency.
Mum was already half gone, grinding on some stranger in the living room while Squeeks sat in the corner with her hands over her ears.
She couldn’t stand the parties. They overwhelmed her.
I quickly held out my hand to escort her back to our room, pulling the mattress into the corner furthest from the door.
“Stay in here, ok.” My voice softened to her.
“Don’t open up for anyone except me, yeah? ”
She agreed, eyes wide and scared. “You coming back?”
I nodded to her briefly as I poked my head back through the door. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t wanna piss 'em off, even if this party’s a pile of dog shit!” I shut the door behind me and stepped back into the noise.
The walls seemed to press in on me, tightly wrapping me with the constant stream of bodies, heat, and music. That’s when I saw Danny passed out in the kitchen chair, a bottle of whiskey half-falling from his lap. I snatched it from his limp hand as he gave a feeble groan in protest.
I took myself out onto the porch, leaned against the house, and drank.
No one batted an eye. First one swig. Then three.
Burned like fuck, but it was better than being inside that house.
I stayed out there until my legs felt like they had turned to jelly, and I wandered back inside.
That’s when Mum grabbed me, unable to control my limbs through the alcohol rushing through my body.
“Birthday boy!” dragging me through the living room by my wrist like I was a prize she’d won.
Her eyes were shifting lazily, so fuck knows what she was on.
“There’s someone I want you to meet,” abruptly standing me in front of a woman on the sofa.
She resembled a figure carved from my bad dreams. Perched on the edge of the couch, legs crossed high and tight in a skirt that barely held a grip on her thighs.
She had a cigarette between two fingers, the long kind, like Cruella Deville style.
Her nails were a chipped bright red colour, clinking against the rim of a half-empty glass as she swirled it absently.
Vodka or gin, maybe both, but it stank like disinfectant.
Her hair was a fried blonde, roots dark, swept back in a messy bun that looked accidental but probably wasn’t.
Her lipstick was smudged at the corners, and her perfume lingered too long in my senses; she didn’t look clean.
She didn’t look at me like I was a kid, a slimy curl to her smile. “Is this him?” Eyeing me up and down, I tried to pull back from my mum’s grasp, a disgusted twitch to my mouth.
A wide grin appeared on my mum’s face as she nodded, “Told you, gonna be our little money maker.” Grabbing my chin with her hand, mimicking a playful cooing as she continued, “Such a pretty boy.” The pair giggled among themselves as I fought off her hand.
“Don’t be rude,” Mum snapped, pushing me forward towards her friend. “She said she’d make your night special.” Something inside me twisted, knowing precisely what she was referring to.
“Nah, I’m alright.” She gripped my arm tighter, lowering her tone right in my ear. A dangerous demonstration that I was to do as I was told, and that I didn’t have a choice in the matter.
“She’s doing me a favour, you little shit. Paid good money, so shut the fuck up.”
I raised my voice, biting back through gritted teeth.
“I said, no.” But Mum didn’t hear it or didn’t give two fucks about what I wanted.
She was laughing, as if it were all just a game.
The woman stood up, grabbing for my hand as I kept it clenched, Mum pushing me from behind. My feet protesting to move.
“I’m not doing this,” I mumbled, but the music swallowed my voice.
The room was spinning. The alcohol hit me like a ton of bricks had just fallen straight on my head.
She led me to the stairs, tightening her grip on my hand, turning back every so often, biting down on her lip.
Pulling me towards my mum’s room, letting out snide giggles as she shut the door behind us.
What happened next, I don’t talk about. I tried to block it out as it made my skin crawl, but her perfume lingered like fucking cancer, living rent-free in my brain.
When the buzz of the crowd had faded, I was back on the porch. My head lolled into my lap, pulling my knees tight to my chest. Inside, Mum had passed out on the sofa. The woman was gone, thank fuck.
I believe her parting words were, “I’ll be seeing you again soon, lover boy.
” A shudder rippled through my body. My knuckles pulsed, covered in blood from punching the bathroom mirror after the fact, shattering it against the wall.
I couldn’t stop throwing up from disgust of myself and her, or maybe it was the alcohol. Either way, I felt tainted.
Happy fucking fourteenth, Screech.
By fifteen, I was just another one of Danny’s lackeys, the one they asked when Danny was too drugged up to sort them out, no questions asked. I hated the way the bags felt in my pockets and how they nodded at me as if they respected me, when really, they didn’t even see past the drugs in my hand.
I had become the very thing I despised, loitering on alleyway corners, dishing out hit after hit to countless junkies.
Danny never gave a shit if one of them decided to take it too far, pulling out street-made shivs to scare me into submission.
He would laugh and tell me to man up, leaving me no other choice but to harden myself against them.
And disguising my childish tendencies with a fake confidence that I wore like a mask.
One thing was for certain, you could never come home empty-handed.
He’d be waiting, palm out with a smug look on his fucking face.
Completely ignoring the fact that new bruises were already forming on my pale skin.
I think he just revelled in the thought of me getting my ass handed to me. Sick fuck.
Danny never gave me anything heavy; I hadn’t earned the right to dish out the expensive stuff, apparently.
Friday nights were the worst. Always brought out the cocky twats, looking for something to hype them up before hitting the bars.
I’d been paired up with Matt, another school dropout like me.
Only he looked a lot older, weathered in a way that got him into every bar without hesitation.
I had my instructions: stay on the corner, guard the gear, and he will send buyers my way.
That would be alright if it weren't fucking freezing outside.
Propping myself against a cold brick wall, I made eye contact with a group of four half-wasted lads as they spilled from the entrance of the bar.