Saved by a Dress

Chapter 6: can I escape?

I sat down at my desk and started typing on my laptop. They followed me in.

"Darling, please let's talk. I'll listen. I will listen," (Mum was still crying pitifully).
"Oh, what am I doing?" I said with false levity, answering the question I knew was in my father's head. "I'm sending an email to all my relatives who have given me gifts of money over the years. They are entitled to know that it has been stolen by two nasty thieves who call themselves my parents; the same two sadistic bastards who have forced me to live my life in total despair."

"You can't send that." Father, of course.

"Let's hear the mantra, 'What will the family think.' " I mimicked.

He came towards me, a set angry look on his face.

"Oh, what are you going to do? Smash my laptop, beat me up. Come on, give me a good bashing, it's about the only box you haven't ticked."

A gasp and sobbing from Mum.

A big breath by father, trying to control himself, "We are not stealing your money . . ."

"Give me my money."

"Look, will you just . . ."

A contemptuous snort from me as I turned to resume my typing.

"Errol, give him his money, give him the keycard." My mother, anxious, ordering.

"Lois, . . ."

"Give it to him," she screamed.

He reluctantly got his wallet out and gave me the card.

"And the PIN."

Given, but still with reluctance.

I closed the laptop and started packing my bag and school backpack.

"I have to take a few of your things. I'll try to arrange for them to be returned to you."

"Don't be a smart-arse." Father was very angry.

"I don't want to owe you anything."

"You're an ungrateful little wretch. After all we've done for you."

I sneered as I tossed my head to indicate the room and house, "You think these few sops can compensate for what you took from me. You took my life, you bastards, my very essence. You might as well have just cut my throat."

"Out of my way, please."

'No, no, Dale, no." Mum was clutching at me entreating, sobbing.

I felt an ache and wanted to cry too, but I wasn't going to.

I slept in some small park that night.

They were there when I came out of school the next afternoon. I was walking with a friend.

I grimaced and took a few steps towards them. Mum was trying to keep herself under control, "Dale, please love, let's talk."

"We have nothing to talk about, Mother. We're finished."

Father stepped in, "We put your birthday present into your account, $5000."

He clearly expected me to be grateful. I dug into my bag and got out the keycard. "I've taken my money out and I certainly don't want anything from you. Here, I don't need this anymore."

He took it, looking completely nonplussed.

As I walked away, I heard my mother's angry, pained voice, "I asked you not to come. He might have talked to me, but no, you had to come."

She could have been right.