Heartless (8 page)

***

Sophia opened her eyes and took a few seconds to remember where she was. She looked around the room, taking in the unfamiliar blue walls covered in Arsenal posters. Music thudded beneath her, the loud bass causing the floor to vibrate. She was at Tommy’s house, at their sixteenth birthday party.

She didn’t know how she had ended up in Tommy’s room. She vaguely remembered feeling ill earlier and seeing a bucket on the floor next to her, and a glass of water on the bedside cabinet, and she guessed it had been Tommy who had looked after her.

As she sat up, the room started to spin and Sophia felt like she was going to be sick; her stomach was churning and she felt hot and clammy. Unable to do anything else she turned back on to her side and shut her eyes tightly, willing the nauseous feeling to go away as she fell back to sleep.

***

“Looks like we weren’t the only ones drinking,” Jonathan slurred, as he pointed to the corner of the room where a boy was leaning and throwing up into the large pot that contained Bernie’s favourite plant.

“Mum is going to go mental,” Tommy moaned, as the boy moved away from the plant only to spew the contents of his stomach halfway up the wall as well. “I guess I’m going to have to clean it up, aren’t I?”

Tommy glared at his drunken brother, who looked in no fit state to help him.

Tommy had been getting more and more frantic as the night went on. The party had quickly got out of hand. The drinks cabinet had been ransacked and the house was getting trashed. Tommy had spent half the night cleaning up puke.

His parents had told him that they would be home at eleven-thirty, and it was almost eleven now.

Fetching another bucket, Tommy was thoroughly pissed off. The whole point of tonight had been to impress Sophia but she had been upstairs, passed out, for most of the evening.

“Here, bro; let me help,” Jonathan offered, as he tried to grab the cloth from Tommy’s hand and almost fell over.

“No, don’t worry, Jonathan. I’ll do it all,” Tommy said sarcastically, as he snatched the cloth back before stomping over to a puddle of vomit on the carpet.

Tommy tried not to retch himself as he cleaned. Even if he managed to get most of it up, he was still going to be in big trouble when his parents got home. Hearing his brother over the other side of the room shouting and jeering as he encouraged some of the younger kids to down their beers, Tommy stood up and watched as a boy choked on the frothy head of lager as it bubbled up his nose. Coughing, the boy spat out a mouthful onto the floor as Jonathan roared with laughter.

Tommy shook his head, feeling defeated. Jonathan looked like he didn’t have a care in the world: it was clear he was enjoying wrecking the place. He was doing everything that their mother had made them promise not to do, and encouraging everyone else to join in. The worse thing, in Tommy’s view, was that he had managed to get Sophia so drunk that she missed her own party. Tommy suspected that had been his plan. He should have known that Jonathan being helpful earlier was just an act.

And who was left to pick up the pieces? Tommy: the sensible twin. Tonight had been a disaster and Tommy just wanted it to be over.

Just as he thought things couldn’t get any worse, there was a scream and Tommy looked up to see what was happening. One of the boys in the group dancing around Megan, who had been doing an impersonation of Michael Jackson, had swung an arm out wildly and managed to knock down the large green urn that had been sitting in the middle of the mantelpiece.

“Tell me that this is not what I think it is,” Megan said, looking like she was about to break down in tears as she stood deadly still in the middle of the floor, holding her hands out accusingly, praying that she was wrong as everyone around stared at her. But she could already tell from Tommy’s horrified expression that her worst fears were true.

The large ceramic urn had flown through the air and hit Megan, covering her completely with Tommy’s grandmother’s ashes. Tommy placed his head in his hands. His mother would crucify him for this.

“Oh my God, Tommy, this is so disgusting. Get that stuff off me,” Megan cried frantically as she spotted small bone fragments amongst the pile of dust at her feet. Then, tasting the dry powder on her lips, Megan freaked out. She jumped up and down like a lunatic, flapping her arms as she tried to brush off the ash that clung to her dress, which had been purple and was now grey. She couldn’t get it off her. Unzipping her dress, Megan stepped out of it and threw it on the floor sending another cloud of dust rising up.

Tommy stood rooted to the spot. The group of boys who had been dancing were laughing their heads off at the sight of Megan jumping about and shouting in her underwear. Then something snapped inside Tommy.

“Right, that’s it, people.” Tommy went over to where the stereo was placed on the Welsh dresser, and yanked the plug out of the wall. “The party’s over.”

***

Waking from a very peculiar dream, Sophia opened her eyes. The room was dark, and as her vision adjusted she smiled as she saw Tommy standing above her.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know. Not too good,” Sophia muttered. The room was spinning and it was difficult to focus on him. “How long have I been up here?”

“About an hour, I guess. You were in a bad way earlier,” he said, as he sat on the bed.

“I feel in a bad way now,” Sophia said, feeling ashamed. “I’m so sorry about this, Tommy. I’ve ruined the party, haven’t I?” Sophia knew that Tommy must be pissed off after all the effort he had gone to, even though he wasn’t showing it. She wished more than anything that she hadn’t drunk so much now.

Tommy shrugged.

Hoping to make it up to him, Sophia reached out and took Tommy’s hand.

She felt Tommy tense up, seemingly surprised, before he responded by leaning down and kissing her. Feeling him move his hand up her chest, her heart thudded.

“So, have I ruined your night?” she asked teasingly. She could tell from the bulge in his trousers that he was enjoying the kissing as much as she was. Sophia moved Tommy’s hand down and guided it underneath her top.

Tommy pulled his hand away. He looked at her questioningly.

“It’s okay, Tommy. I want to.” Sophia moved her legs apart.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and she nodded.

“You feel the same about me as I do about you?” Tommy kissed her gently on her forehead.

Catching a strong whiff of alcohol from his breath as he spoke, Sophia nodded before turning her head to avoid it; even just the smell of alcohol made her feel rough.

She did love him: of that there was no doubt. In the short time that she had known him she had thought of nothing but him. Tommy was the most decent, caring boy that she had ever met. He made her feel safe.

However, she stiffened as his warm palm caressed her stomach. Suddenly, she felt apprehensive. She wasn’t sure that she was really ready to do this. But she wanted to make it up to him for ruining the party, and the stroking sensation was quickly soothing her worries away. Gradually, she began to relax as Tommy moved his hand down further.

“Are you sure you want me?” he asked, as he pushed her skirt up around her hips, grazing her thighs with his hands.

He moved his hand away, which made her crave his touch once again.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I do want to; it’s just that I wanted my first time to be...”

She was too drunk to finish explaining and the warmth of Tommy’s body, and the way he had gently touched her skin, made her doubt everything that she had believed. Putting his hand back on her body, she nodded at him to carry on.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I wanted it to be special, I guess,” she whispered. She wondered why she was vacillating. She was sixteen now: old enough. And she was curious. Megan had told her all about the night she had lost her virginity; she had boasted enough times about how amazing it was, and how she had had her first orgasm. She said there was no feeling in the world like it.

“It will be special. I’m going to make it so special for you,” Tommy whispered back as he pulled her knickers down and moved awkwardly on top of her.

“We need a condom, Tommy,” Sophia said suddenly feeling very nervous that they were going to actually do this.

“Hang on,” he reassured her as he fiddled about with himself before straddled her body once more.

At first she liked it, but then the weight of him pinning her down made her feel claustrophobic and nausea washed over her in waves. As Tommy moved on top of her, she tried to focus on her breathing as a way of distraction. Her heart was beating loudly. Tommy’s breath rasped against her cheek as he kissed her hard on her mouth. She screwed up her face at the sudden sharp pain that she felt as he pushed himself inside her without warning.

“Tommy,” Sophia managed to say quietly, still lightheaded from all the cocktails.

She felt like she was suffocating underneath him. The room was still spinning.

Tommy grunted in her ear as he moved his body up and down on top of her, gathering momentum as he pushed her back and forth on the bed. Pounding on top of her, he thrust himself harder into her. Sophia gritted her teeth and tried to hold back her tears. She hadn’t imagined that her first time would feel like this. She had imagined it as gentler; more intimate.

She could feel the bile at the back of her throat, but she forced herself to gulp it down. The acidity burned her throat.

Sophia felt Tommy’s body tremble and convulse and was glad it was over.

Her feeling of relief was quickly replaced by one of increased nausea. Tommy had barely rolled off her, when Sophia realised she could no longer hold back the urge to be sick. Flinging her head over the side of the bed she puked up the contents of her stomach into the bucket.

“I’ll get you some more water,” Tommy said, dressing quickly.

As she watched him, she saw the crumpled cigarette packet sticking out of his back pocket. She felt her blood run cold.

“Jonathan,” she said, her voice so quiet she could barely hear it.

Jonathan turned and smiled. “Yes?”

“No... I don’t understand. I thought you were Tommy.”

“Don’t play games, Red. It was me you wanted. You don’t think my brother would have been able to fuck you like that, do you?”

“But I... I thought... You tricked me,” Sophia cried.

She had known that it hadn’t felt right, but she had thought it had been because she was still drunk, and unsure about the act itself. It was her first time; she didn’t have anything to compare it to. She couldn’t stop shivering. She felt as if Jonathan’s coldness was contagious and had crept out from deep within his bones, infecting her.

She should have known that Tommy would never have been so rough with her. If she hadn’t been so drunk maybe she would have realised in time. She could have stopped it.

“You pulled me on top of you, Red, remember? You were gagging for it. You can’t beg me to fuck you and then start playing these little games.” Fucking Sophia had been the perfect opportunity for him to finish her and Tommy. Tommy wouldn’t believe that Sophia hadn’t realised who she was having sex with, nor would he forgive her. By the look on her face, she knew that too.

“See, Red, I told you that I’d make your first time special.” He looked her up and down.

Sophia grabbed the duvet and pulled it around her. She leaned back over the bed and started retching violently until her stomach ached and her throat burned. Through her tears, she saw that Jonathan had gone.

Dragging herself off the bed, Sophia straightened her skirt and put on the rest of her clothes. Struggling to balance, she staggered and leaned on the bedside table for support.

She hated herself, but she couldn’t begin to imagine how much more Tommy would when he found out what she had done. Jonathan was right, she had instigated it. Tommy would never believe that Jonathan had tricked her. And even if he did, he wouldn’t want her now. Not after that.

Weaving out of the bedroom and down the stairs, she prayed that she wouldn’t bump into Jonathan on her way out of the house, or worse still Tommy.

The only place in the world that Sophia wanted to be was at home.

Chapter Ten

The pain in Kaitlin’s head was excruciating. Rubbing it gently, she then checked her hand for blood and was surprised there wasn’t any. Jamesie had bashed her head so hard on the laminate floor that she felt like her skull had been dented.

“Go on then, you miserable cunt, what are you going to do now? I know... why don’t you go and tell my interfering old bitch of a mother what I’ve done?” Dribble seeped from his lips as Jamesie slurred the words; he was barely capable of speech. Kaitlin looked Jamesie in the eye, searching for a hint of compassion. There was none; all she could see was a sneer on lips surrounded by red and blotchy skin, another side effect of the constant alcohol abuse.

This was the worst state she had ever seen her drunken husband in, however. He had been goading her for a row all day, and even though she had tried her best to pacify him she had known that this would be the outcome. Every day since Nessa’s visit, a week ago, she had sensed his anger brewing. Now he had finally started to punish her, the only option left was to let him get it finally out of his system. Looking at the clock she was grateful Sophia was at her party and would be for some time, she desperately wanted to shield her daughter from Jamesie when he was like this, hating the thought of the poor girl seeing her own mum dragged around and beaten. She had already witnessed enough as it was.

“Jamesie, I told you I didn’t say anything to your mother. I swear,” Kaitlin pleaded half-heartedly, knowing that it was pointless trying to reason with him. Her husband had spent the past few days tormented with paranoid thoughts. He believed what happened behind closed doors should stay there and his mother knowing what he had done, and thus looking down her nose at him, enraged him. He would not have her interfering in his business.

Kaitlin knew that she should take the blame so that Sophia wouldn’t be in the firing line. She had known that from the second that she had opened the door to Nessa last week. Nessa hadn’t needed to say a word; the pitying way that she had looked at Kaitlin had spoken volumes. Kaitlin also knew that when Jamesie was very drunk, there was no talking sense to the man. Tonight, he had drunk eight cans of cider and half a bottle of Scotch before letting out his pent-up anger. And he didn’t seem to have finished.

Catching Kaitlin by her hair, Jamesie wound his fist down to the roots and dragged her screaming onto her feet.

“Look at the state of you, crying like a fucking baby.” His wife standing in front of him, whimpering like a wounded animal after all the grief she had caused him, made him want to beat ten shades of shit out of her. He hated her weakness; he wouldn’t do this to her if she didn’t let him.

Kaitlin would let him say whatever he liked. She knew that whatever she said would be the cause of his next punch or kick. If she stood in silence for long enough, he would rant and rave and swear but, going by his past outbursts, it wouldn’t take him too long until he burned himself out. Gearing herself up for it, she knew that she could handle the odd punch and kick until then.

Then there came the sound Kaitlin had dreaded the most: a key in the front door.

“Mum?” Sophia wiped away tears as she hung up her coat then walked into the lounge. How she had managed to find the strength to get out of Tommy’s house and make her way home without breaking down she wasn’t sure; she had run all the way.

Sophia stared in horror at the scene before her, her face paling. “What’s going on?”

But Sophia knew exactly what was going on. Her father stood in the middle of the room like he was king of the castle, holding a fistful of her mother’s hair in his hand. Her mum couldn’t even look at her. Blood trickled down from the cut on her lip, and she clutched her head in pain.

“Mind your own business, Sophia; this is between me and your mother. Go to your room,” Jamesie said coldly as he tried to control his swaying.

Tears ran down Sophia’s cheeks as she stared at her unflinching mother, unsure of what she should do. Her legs felt heavy and her body was rooted to the spot.

“Go upstairs, Sophia; its okay, I promise. I’m okay.” Kaitlin spoke quietly, pleading with her daughter. The only saving grace in Kaitlin’s depressing existence was that Jamesie had never laid a finger on Sophia, and Kaitlin didn’t want to put her in a position where that would ever even become a possibility. She had to get her out of the way. “Please, Sophia, go upstairs.”

Sophia stared at her dad, watching him wobble from side to side; he was clearly drunk out of his mind once again. She hated what he had become, and she hated what he was doing to her mother. Her mum had told her that he only drank so much because he was depressed. Her mum had said it to make Sophia understand why her dad acted the way he did. Her mum always justified it. Even if it was the combination of the two diseases that made him like this, the mixture was lethal and as far as Sophia was concerned her dad was ruined as a man. Looking at him now was like seeing him for the first time. He was pathetic; a wreck of a man, who had destroyed himself. And now he was destroying his family.

The reality of how drunk she had been tonight made Sophia feel ashamed, remembering how she had stumbled about, she had probably looked just like her father did.

Everything about the evening disgusted her, and it was all down to alcohol. She had lowered herself to the level of a pathetic drunk whom she despised. And look where it had got her. Sophia had never felt so angry.

“Get your arse upstairs. This is your mother’s fault, Sophia, not mine,” Jamesie said, in a pitiable attempt to justify his actions.

Sophia’s mother said that when she had first met Jamesie, he had been different. He had been kind. Sophia had found her mother’s words hard to believe, and lately she was convinced they were untrue, because her only memories of her father were as a violent drunk who took out his anger and his shortcomings onto her mother. She had seen the tears and the bruises and had spent countless nights lying in bed with a pillow covering her ears so she could block out the endless name-calling. Lately her father’s outbursts had become more frequent, ever since he had lost his job at the factory. At least when he was at work he would stay away from the bottle during the day. Now he was at home, he just drank himself into a stupor from almost the minute that he got out of bed until the minute he passed out back in it.

“Go on, Sophia, get the fuck out of here,” Jamesie bellowed, losing his patience.

Sophia heard her father’s command, but she couldn’t move her legs. She wanted to run to the sanctuary of her bedroom, where she could bury her head under her pillow and forget everything, pretend tonight hadn’t happened. But she had been pretending for too long: she couldn’t do it anymore. If Sophia did as she was told again tonight and left her mum alone with her dad in the state that he was in, he would kill her.

There would be no more pretending. Looking into her dad’s eyes, Sophia shook her head.

“Get your hands off her, Dad.” The words tumbled out of Sophia’s mouth and after they had, she couldn’t believe she had said them. She had never so much as openly disagreed with her father, let alone had the courage to speak to him so boldly. Feeling her body shake as she spoke, she wasn’t sure if it was with anger or fear and she no longer cared.

“What did you just say?” Jamesie said, shocked at his daughter’s tone and the insolent look on her face. For a split second, he could see his mother’s expression staring back. Sophia’s hatred and disgust was clear. She was just like all the rest: everyone he knew despised him. Did they think that they could treat him like he was nothing? He was sick of it.

Clenching his fists, Jamesie stepped towards his daughter.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Jamesie wouldn’t accept his daughter’s dismissive attitude. He knew that he had never possessed the same power over Sophia that he had over her mother, but it had only started to bother him recently. Sophia was growing up and he could tell in her eyes that she had not one ounce of respect for him.

“Have you been drinking?” Jamesie demanded, as he neared his daughter and smelt a strong odour of drink. Then he noticed the make-up that was smudged under her eyes, and that she was wearing a miniskirt. “What the fuck do you think you are playing at, going out of this house looking like that? You look like a cheap tart. You better not have been with that little fucking scroat Tommy again.”

Jamesie felt rage surge through his veins. He knew how young boys’ minds worked. Those dirty little bastards would be all over his daughter like a rash in her current state.

Ignoring her father’s words, Sophia repeated herself. “I said, leave Mum alone. You can’t use her as a punch bag.”

Sophia sniffed back tears, although they were now of pure anger. Tonight had been horrendous, and she didn’t know how much more she could take.

“Don’t poke your nose in where it’s not wanted.” Then the realisation hit Jamesie like a brick. He had known all along really, his wife was too feeble to be going around telling tales. Of course it had been Sophia. She was over at her nan’s every five minutes. “It was you, weren’t it? You sneaky little bitch. How fucking stupid. You were the one telling your nosy cunt of a nan our business, weren’t you?”

“Jamesie, just leave her: please,” Kaitlin implored. “Sophia, do as you’re told and go to your room; it’s me that your dad’s angry with: you don’t need to get involved. Jamesie, you’ve got it wrong, it was me. I spoke to your mum and I’m sorry, but please don’t take it out on Sophia. It was me.”

Jamesie clenched his fists tighter. Staring hard at his daughter, as she glared back at him, he knew he was right. He was having none of his wife’s nonsense. Of course it was Sophia who had been running her mouth off, telling that old bint tales. He felt stupid for not realising it earlier. It had obviously been Sophia: the girl was always at her nan’s house. And now he knew why. The pair of them must spend their time badmouthing and disrespecting him.

“You’ve been running your mouth off to your nan, telling her stories about me, haven’t you? You ungrateful little bitch, after all I’ve done for you. Where’s your respect for me? I’m your father,” Jamesie snarled.

Before Sophia knew what was happening, Jamesie had launched himself at her, knocking over the bookshelf that she was standing beside. They both crashed down, his body pinning hers on the floor amongst a heap of books. He grabbed her throat, squeezing it. She tried to scream but could only make a choking noise.

“Get off her,” Kaitlin cried, trying to push him off Sophia. Jamesie was completely out of control, but Kaitlin’s maternal instinct was far stronger than her fear of her husband.

Jamesie was too strong for her though, and as he held Sophia’s throat as she spluttered in panic, trying to breathe, he used his other hand to hit his wife.

The force of the blow sent Kaitlin flying across the room, and her body landed in a heap. Unbalanced by his drinking, Jamesie went flying across the floor too.

Sophia’s instincts were to run, but she couldn’t. Holding her throbbing neck, she was petrified. She stared at her father, who lay sprawled out on the floor as he panted loudly like a wild animal. Staring ahead of him as if in a trance, the shock on his face at what he’d done was clear. She followed his gaze to Kaitlin’s seemingly lifeless body. Her mother lay motionless and Sophia could see the trickle of blood running from her head, down one cheek.

“What have you done, Dad? What have you done?” Sophia’s screams filled the room.