CHAPTER ONE – THE RAGE WITHIN
(Part Eight)
I turned the rusty copper door knob and hoped Greg would not reveal our squatting secret as we slowly entered the gloomy, musty lounge.
‘Dad!’ I shouted and my voice echoed around the desolate space. I dodged the flowery, ripped, yellow stained sofa and the oval, woodworm-riddled mahogany coffee table as flashbacks of the doctor gawping at my open, rotting leg wound with repulse, before giving me a tetanus injection, came to the forefront of my mind as I negotiated my way around the large, sharp, exposed sofa spring again.
Greg observed my surroundings in astonishment as he looked around the smoke-damaged room and ran his hand down the weeping, mouldy, damp wall in revulsion, checking to see if his eyes were deceiving him.
Shuddering at the abysmal conditions, his nausea was distracted by a shuffling in the distance as he wiped the slimy, black fungus from his tainted hand and grabbed my shoulder as he shoved me behind him, ready to attack whatever was ready to pounce.
Rustling and scraping noises sounded from the kitchen as I hid in the corner and waited for the intruder to make an appearance.
The sounds got louder and louder, until the hallway door swung open and my father’s fist connected with Gregor’s jaw.
With a loud crunch, he fell to the floor with a thud and father jumped back to observe the trespasser’s identity. ‘Who are you?’ he growled as Gregor slowly held his hands up in defeat.
‘I’ve just brought Lou back as he was helping me with some chores. I haven’t come for trouble,’ he stated as he rubbed his throbbing, disfigured jaw in shock.
As he held his excruciating jaw in agony, I inspected the blood-sprayed wall in front of him as two of his teeth had escaped his bloody mouth and were laid at his feet as he felt around the gaps with his tongue in disbelief.
Father stood over him, rubbing his blood-stained knuckle with satisfaction, then he grabbed a candle and held it to Greg’s face, which highlighted his deformed jaw line.
A stunned Greg tried to stand up by using the wall to support his stability and turned his head to the side. ‘What are you doing?’ I asked, concerned for his serious injury as tears began to distort my vision.
Ignoring my question, he smiled at my anxiety and with one snap he pushed his jaw back into place with ease and approached the front door to leave as I wiped my eyes in disbelief.
Feeling annoyed that he had recovered so quickly from his blow, my father jumped in his path and blocked the doorway. ‘So what do they call you then and what types of jobs was he helping you with?’ he slurred as Gregor backed away from the alcoholic scent on my father’s breath.
He grabbed a chair and pushed it towards Gregor as he barked at me to get two glasses and the bottle of rum, which had its ‘pride of place’ on the grubby kitchen top.
With a huff, I did as asked and went back into the room to find an uncomfortable Gregor selectively answering my father’s prying questions. ‘So did he get paid for these chores he was helping you with? Cos as you can see, we need every penny,’ he sneered as Gregor looked at me with empathy.
‘I didn’t manage to pay him, but here’s ten pounds as he did a very good job,’ Gregor replied as he handed me the crumpled note.
I held out my hand ready to accept the monetary gift, however, before I could feel the note in my desperate hand, my father grabbed it and shoved it in his pocket as he looked at me with fury.
Gregor stood up to intervene as my father leaned over and grabbed me by the scruff of the neck. His boozy breath assaulted my eyes and they began to water. ‘Don’t think I don’t know that Mr Bains gave you money earlier so this is just the beginning of paying me back what you spent,’ he whispered as I jumped back at his revelation.
He pulled me off the floor in anger and my legs dangled in the air. ‘DAD, DON’T!’ I screamed before Gregor grabbed his shoulder and threw him against the wall. He picked me up from the floor by my hand and checked if I was OK before returning his attention to my father, who was in a heap on the floor.
Gregor ignored his incoherent rants, as he was slurring his words, and concluded, ‘If you want Lou to stay out of trouble and avoid attention being drawn to your situation, you need to get him into school and you need to get a job. Do you think a ten year old working on the street will hide you away from people here for long?’
Father raised his wobbling head as he thought about Gregor’s advice for a split second. ‘He’s no good for work anyway so maybe you’re right. At least he’ll be their problem then,’ he slurred as Gregor rolled his eyes with loathing at the thought of leaving me with this pathetic excuse for a dad.
The thought of being around other children gave me mixed emotions, but I assumed anything would be better than being here so I begged Gregor to help me get into a school before my father interrupted rudely. ‘So now I’m going to be a worker down; is there anyone you know that needs a worker? I can do DIY, joinery, farming – anything that is manual labour.’
Gregor looked at him in aversion, like he would rather recommend Satan for work in a church than refer my father to any of his associates. ‘There’s nothing at the moment, but I’ll keep you updated,’ he lied as my father grabbed a woodwormed chair and carefully pulled himself onto it.
Looking for the smudged glasses, he poured the strong brown liquor into them and shoved a generous portion to a revolted Gregor. ‘So what’s this I hear about something called “Strages”? I heard there’s some serious money to be made, but no one has said what you need to do,’ he cunningly questioned as Gregor uncomfortably squirmed in his chair.
‘You don’t want to get involved in that stuff, believe me,’ he replied as he attempted to leave once more.
Did you enjoy this part of the chapter? If so, please show your support for this author by VOTING for this story or leave a COMMENT to connect with me! Thanks everyone! :)
***If you cannot wait for me to update this story EVERY FRIDAY, the full book is available to purchase on Amazon, Smashwords, B&N, Kobo and iBooks***
YOU ARE READING
Split Blood: Rise of the Wolf (Book #2) - COMPLETE
Fantasy'You are the oil to my fire and no one will ever extinguish us' Enya said as she stroked the scar, which reminds him of his horrific childhood. Lowell was always the outcast in his pack. Coming from a poor, abusive background, the only attention he...
