Out in the Cold - Part Three

The stench of stale beer and ammonia permeated my nostrils as he stood there in his piss covered clothes. Lizzie was frozen to the spot, with her hand clamped on top of his as he threatened to squeeze tighter, if she struggled.

“I knew he’d come here, Saint Shannon to the rescue” he bellowed. Flecks of spittle sprayed from his lips, as he enunciated every, last syllable. “I’d have finished the job if I hadn’t been interrupted, he couldn’t fight his way out of a wet paper bag. Piss weak like this fucking whore!” His eyes were bloodshot and filled with the fire of a thousand suns, burning into me, daring me to try and defend Jake. Lizzie squirmed in his grasp, he loosened his grip and then smacked her across the face with the other hand. The crack of the contact with her cheek reverberated around the stone landing, the force had lifted her from her feet. He spat on her as she lay sprawled on the floor. 

The door of the flat that I shared the landing with, swung open. Simon, my neighbour, a giant of a man filled the door frame. “Need any help, Shan?” Simon’s voiced boomed around the small space and Jake’s dad visibly wilted under his ferocious glare. “We were just leaving. Get on ya feet you old tart” he ordered to Lizzie. “Me or him, last chance!” It was phrased as a question, but the undeniable, silent threat of what he would do if she chose her son, was clear.

Lizzie looked at me with her beautifully sad eyes and whispered “I’m sorry.” As Jake’s dad ushered  her down the stairs and away from me, away from her son.

All the way to the bottom, you could hear strains of broken insults pouring out of his mouth and into Lizzie’s heart. Simon’s hand reached out for mine in gentle reassurance, he gave it a little squeeze, both of us seemed to be holding our breath, waiting for the silence to ensue.

Simon spoke first “You look like shit, Shan”. “Always the flatterer” I replied. We both smiled, it had always been ‘easy’ between us, he never judged, just listened. “Si, Can you take me to the hospital, I need to know if Jake’s okay” I asked.  "That lucky fucker always did get the best girls. Come on you, ya chariot awaits." He smiled, gave me a squeeze, then gently tugged at my sleeve to make me follow.

As we pulled up at the hospital, I thanked Simon and got out the car. I made my way inside and asked at the desk for Jake. “Are you a relative?” The receptionist asked. “Yes, I’m his…. Sister” I replied. “She isn’t, but I’ll take it from here” I recognised the voice, that same deep but soothing tone. I turned to face the sound. A light dusting of dark stubble lined a strong jaw. Long full lashes framed the most exquisite, soft willow-coloured eyes. 

“He’s okay, he’s awake, but I think you and I need to have a talk” I watched his lips as they moved and the shape his mouth made with every word. He was undeniably attractive and in any normal circumstances, I’d have told him so.  He turned to walk down the corridor “You coming?” he asked over his shoulder. We walked a little way in silence, I’d started to limp from pain and a small tremor had begun in my left arm. I shoved my hands in my pockets and tried to concentrate on my steps. I could see him watching me out of the corner of his eye, he’d opened his mouth once or twice as if to ask a question, but it never came.

I stopped at the end of the corridor, it suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t know his name. “Can I ask you something?” I said. “You just did but, my name’s Mitchell” he smiled as he said it and those green eyes, sparkled playfully.

“That wasn’t what I was going to ask” I giggled. “No?” he mocked. He watched me for a couple of seconds longer and then took his chance but it wasn’t the question I was expecting. “When did you last smoke?” Tt wasn’t accusatory, to be honest he sounded concerned. “Erm…” I faltered.  “My sister, she’s sick. Uses it for pain. Seems to take the edge off of her shakes when it get’s bad” He volunteered “and, I smelled it in your hair this morning." He flushed slightly as he said it. “Too long ago but, I’m fine” There was an edge of defiance to my voice, letting him know the subject wasn’t up for discussion.

A nurse came out of the room to my right, she spoke to Mitchell like they were old friends “The parents still can’t be contacted and he’s refusing to talk. A fresh pot of coffee’s just been put out on the nurse’s station. You two look like you could use one” She offered. “Thanks Hannah, I’ll keep trying. Coffee sounds good” He said  Hannah, gave me a small sympathetic smile and went about her rounds. Mitchell  turned his attentions back to me. “4 broken ribs, a fractured wrist, a broken collar bone and a partially collapsed lung. I probably wouldn’t want to talk either” he said.  “He’s had worse” I replied. “You ready?” he asked. I nodded and he opened the door for me to enter Jakes room.

Jake lay pale and still, his empty eyes watched me as I inched closer to the bed. I reached out my fingers to brush his hair from his face, his eyes closed at my touch. I leant closer and kissed his forehead “I’m sorry Jake, I’m so so sorry” I whispered.  “No, I’m sorry” he said. “I’m sorry he didn’t kill me… but he will” Silent tears flooded down his face, he turned away from me, hiding his pain as if he were ashamed. “Go! Please, just go” he whimpered.  

 

**********

**********

I picked up the tiny box of baby clothes and memories, Kevin had destroyed most of them when he threw Jake out. I twirled the tiny hospital bracelet in my fingers, announcing who my baby was and how much he weighed. I breathed in the smell of his favourite teddy bear, worn out from love and keeping Jakes childhood secrets, that I wish he’d have shared with me. Memories raced through my mind, first laugh, first steps, first day at school, so full of life and laughter, I wasn’t sure when I’d lost my boy, but with the promise of this new baby, maybe he would come back to me, back to life.

I heard the front door slam and heavy feet stomp through the house. I checked the clock on the mantlepiece, it was still early by Kevin’s standards, the pub was open for a few more hours, so him being home wasn’t a good sign.

I didn’t get chance to think, he’d crossed the room in 3 strides and dragged me from my chair and pulled me close to his face. His breath was rancid, breathing directly into my mouth. He ran his tongue up my face, then flung me to the floor like a rag doll. “You taste like guilt” He snarled. “That where my money’s been going? Feeding that little Cunts habit?” He was down on the floor with me now, screaming into my face. “Tell me where he is” he demanded.

To find out what Lizzie said, what Kevin did next and... if he really does kill his son in the end. Tune in for PART FOUR

If you would like to read more of my musings, you can find them here

 Don't forget, you can follow us on Instagram and Facebook too

 By Trina Leah ©