I am Child Z

Chapter Five - The White Stuff

Chapter Five - The White Stuff

Early February, mum was still missing. I didn’t know how I survived those times. Most days I just hid behind the neighbours’ garbage bins and waited for them to throw out scraps. Then I would rummage through their rubbish, looking for little bits of (clean) meat and fish to make dinner.

Other times I felt brave enough to ask them for food and drink. The neighbours, especially Mrs Hillman who lived next door to me, raised an eyebrow, questioning where my mother was. I always replied that she was on holiday and I could not get in contact with her. As the neighbours become more suspicious and began to believe I was lying about my mum’s whereabouts, I stopped asking for things. Instead, I turned to the infamous kid on the street for help.

Dez Bwoy (aka Desmond Beynard), a 17 year old runaway from Stratford, homeless yet always in the latest gear, seldom hungry or thirsty, kept me alive. He stole small amounts of food and drink for me from the local shops, just because he liked the way I looked. On occasion, when he felt very brave and macho, he dodged the security guards on the ground floor of Stratford Westfield and pinched a whole basket of groceries for me from Waitrose. Dez Bwoy wasn’t a selfless person. He didn’t do something for nothing. He always wanted to be rewarded for his hard work. I knew he was after something in return for his help, but I told him I weren’t that type of chick. But Dez Bwoy didn’t care – he kept on pressing me for a form of payment.

For a few nights I slept rough with Dez Bwoy on the smooth concaved steps outside Natwest Bank – we had one duvet between us. We kept each other warm just by exchanging and preserving our own natural body heat. Dez Bwoy liked to snuggle close to me, really close, until our lips almost grazed one another’s. And at twilight, he let his gentle brown curls and enticing emerald eyes, paint a picturesque shadow upon my warm tender face. But he never attempted to kiss me. Not even once. Secretly I wanted him to. I had never been kissed by a boy before, and I wanted to know what it felt like. But deep down I knew he wasn’t the right guy to give me that very first kiss. The guy who passionately caressed my mouth, leaving me breathless, sending tingles rushing through my petite hormonal teenage body, would have to be someone deserving. No way was Dez that person. He wasn’t a decent guy. He was a very self-centred and devious individual - and possessed a wretched malignant character. I had to hold out for my Prince Charming. I owed myself that much after all I’d encountered in my life thus far.

Incessantly Dez pursued me – expressing his wish to make out – and do other stuff (that I really do not wish to go into detail about). I firmly rebuffed him. I told him quite plainly, that I wouldn’t do that just because he wanted me to or just because he expected me to show him gratitude for food and drink. He nodded, confirming he understood, but I twigged that his ogling would soon transcend into a robust physical action. I knew I was getting myself in way too deep – it was only a matter of time before I became a victim of street life…

One chilly morning on the corner of Bow Road, outside the local mini-mart, Dez Bwoy shoved a bag of white powder in my hands. He whispered in my ear, pressing his lips firmly against my soft oval lobes. “I want you to make a delivery to Mr K by the Bow Roundabout in exactly ten minutes. The order is two grams over – take a likkle handful for ya’self if ya’ like.”

“And what if I say no?” I asked with a trembling voice, scared to death he would strike me down with one ferocious blow to the head.

But surprisingly, he didn’t. Yet the answer he gave me and the menacing stare he flashed in my direction, sent chills running the breadth of my spine, like a slow calculating alligator scampering over its dinner, deciding which portion of the victim to devour first.

“Say no,” he began, wearing a thunderous look on his face. “Say no, and I’ll have to take matters into my own hands… A pretty gurl like you doesn’t want to see my nasty side. Ya’ get me? So, do this errand and I won’t ask you to do nuttin’ else, especially sumthin’ ya’ ain’t ready for.”