My Richie Kray

Unshackle yourself... Buttercup

There was nothing further that I could learn on the Krays, the gang lords that were among the most powerful and feared men in the world. I'd read their autobiography more times than I could possibly count but yet it still remained as compelling, disturbing and highly readable as the last time.
I felt like I almost knew them, I felt like if they were still alive and here that they would protect me for my loyalty, devotion and understanding of them. They could teach me how to seek revenge on all those who had hurt me, how to make society pay, how to scare someone so bad that they'd never put my name in their mouths again, not even when my back was turned. If only...

"How many fucking times do you have to read this shit?" My older brother snatched the book from my grasp!

"Give it back Callum I swear!" If he did ANYTHING to my beloved book I'd rip his fucking testicles off with my bare hands! It wasn't just a regular store copy, it was a signed edition I had managed to hook from Ebay for a stupid amount of money. Every time I opened the book I would always run my delicate little fingertips over the ink that they'd once penned,

"Dunno why you're so obsessed with The Krays, it's fucking weird. Ya do know they were both gay don't ya?"

"I'm not taking the bait. Just leave it out will you"

"I'm just sayin' that they'd of never looked at ya if you was about in their lifetime"

"Like I even care? I don't fancy them I just love what they stand for, their power, their influence... People have to pay for shit they've done. Sooner they do, the better the world will become"

"Christ you really have lost it in the apple and pears ain't ya, eh. Tell ya what though, I'll bet our Richie would be impressed with your freaky devotion to his family" Did he just mention my Richie Kray?

"Our Richie? What do you know about Richie?" Suddenly I felt alive amongst this dull dark house!

"Fucking hell it ain't Christmas y'know"

"You don't even know him to reference him like that, or do you?"

"Jada, it wasn't nothin' but a passing comment, chill it will ya"

"But why would you..."

"Not talkin' about this. I gotta get goin' to Captain Kirk (work). I'm gonna be late. Not that I can be arsed like. Where's mam?"

"She's in the kitchen, can you not hear her?" She always talked to herself, and no matter where you were in the house you could hear her mindless, hysteric babble. People say that's a sure sign of insanity, and fuck me would they be right with that nut job,

"Mam! Ay mam!" He lit a cig, tucked one hand into his trouser pocket and waltzed off. My brother was always very swarve looking. Neat hair, neat suits, he was an accountant at our local bank, probably the only one out of our scumbag family to ever hold such a credible job title. And yet he was still living at home. He made more than enough to get out of this shithole but he never talked about living elsewhere, not even with his friends, whom of which seemed to be non existent. I mean, he was always going out and driving around with people in his flash white Audi, but never did he bring them in to our house or have them at the door calling for him. Mind you if they were his 'Banker friends' I'd be ashamed to bring them here too. Not because of the house or anything like that, because our house was small but very nice, it was just because of my parents. At any given moment they could be heard screaming at each other. My dad usually would be the first one to get it in the neck. Just this morning he had forgotten to scrape out the toast crumbs from the butter, so whilst he was sat at the dinner table reading his morning newspaper with a fag and a cup of tea my mum came over to him and spooned all of the butter into his tea, his beloved tea! So he stood up and started thrashing her with the newspaper screaming all sorts of obscenities at her. Paper was flying everywhere, it was actually pretty funny when I caught a glimpse of it, but I had to run upstairs to laugh it out, if I was caught even enjoying the show my mum would of no doubt laid into me, after my dad had left for work that is, she never dared lay a hand on me when he was home because he'd of strangled her.