The world outside doesn’t exist any longer. That’s how it feels as I stand opposite my face. His face. Staring at me in just that way that he does so well. The way his eyes bore into me like they can reach into the depths of my mind and steal me away. I just wait. The thudding of my own heartbeat resonates in my fear-filled mind. It threatens to make my anxiety reach a level that might actually kill me at any moment as it pulsates at my temples. I realise that I am holding my breath. I try to let it out slowly. Some way to keep my mind focused. But the world is moving in slow motion.
“I have to go,” I finally mutter to my father after what feels like hours have passed, but I am sure it’s been less than a minute in reality. I fumble nervously with my keys, even though I don’t actually need them. My flat is all locked up and the front door uses a Yale lock that only needs a key on the outside. Still, it is better than standing there motionless and waiting for him to strike. I am sure even my stillness is enough to anger him in some way.
“You're ungrateful,” he snarls at me.
“I’m sorry,” I reply. I am not sure what he wants me to do. Hug him? I can't do that. It’s what normal people do, but the thought of it sends my insides recoiling. I can't touch him. I can't touch anyone. I don’t want them to see the badness that festers deep inside and turns loving fathers into paedophilic rapists. Of course, that isn’t what my father is. Rapists have sex with people who don’t want it - but I never said no.
It is a relief when Will throws his toy car on the floor, because then I have to manoeuvre him around to retrieve it for him. It’s sticky and wet from his childish chewing on it. I pick it up and hand it to him.
“I have to go,” I tell my father. “Before Will starts riling.”
I turn on my heel then, spinning the buggy with me and carefully wheeling him down the three steps and onto the garden path. My father follows me out, but he stops at the top of the steps. The man next door is out in his garden watering his plants, although I am sure they are watered enough that they might be dead later from drowning. He casts me an unfriendly sideways look and I try to keep my face expressionless. His name is Frank, I think, or maybe Fredrick. I don’t know. It starts with an F.
Sharon comes out and stands beside my dad. She really is an idiot. Does she really think that she has a place by his side or even in his life? Some way out of her stale, smoke-filled flat and into a better life? I want to laugh at her and tell her exactly what a fool she is. She stands with her arms crossed just under her breasts. They push them up, as well as her oversized stomach down, in some odd, deformed way. Her nails are long, with the remains of last week’s red nail varnish on them. She stares at me through eyes that are framed by clumped-up, blue eyelashes. Doesn’t she know that the world sees her as trash, just like my father does?
“Kids are always ungrateful,” I hear my dad say to Sharon. Of course, he isn’t talking to her, but she is too dumb to realise that. He says it loud enough so that I hear it. She tries to answer, but he ignores her.
Frank, or whatever his name is, tries to lean over to grab my arm, but I move out of his way. “Your father is talking to you,” he reproaches me. “Perhaps you need to start showing him some respect.”
“It’s none of your business,” I snap at him before I can stop myself.
My father stomps down the steps, his shoulders back. He thinks he’s special just like Sharon does. Maybe they are made for each other after all. “I beg your pardon?” he says. I want to tell him he can beg all he wants, but he isn’t getting any pardon from me. But I don’t. Instead, I bite my bottom lip and look down in some kind of subordinate way.
“Kids these days need a good crack,” Frank says, and my father grunts in agreement.
“They do too.” He looks at me. “And you're never too old to get one.”
“I have to go,” I mumble again, and then I push Will in his buggy and get myself away from them before I say anything else. I can feel them staring at me. I can feel the way their eyes bore into my back. Like a hand pushing onto the centre of my spine and making me walk faster. Poor Will. The buggy jars against the cracks in the pavement, but I push on, determined not to stop or look back.
I don’t stop until I get around the corner and way out of sight. I only stop then to pull my cigarettes from my pocket and light one with a shaky hand. The filter in my mouth gets wet from the tears that manage to fall down my face and across my lips. I force them to stop, dragging on the cigarette until it scratches down deep inside and makes my head feel dizzy. I stand there smoking until I hear a car and wonder if it might be my father. I don’t want to see him again, so I quickly start to walk.
I don’t stop once I start. I walk all the way into town. It isn’t that far away - maybe two miles. When I see Nathan, he is sitting at the bus station waiting for me. I don’t want to tell him about things. I don’t even tell him I didn’t get the bus because I can't afford to. But he doesn’t ask anyway. His face breaks into a smile when he sees me and before I have even spoken, he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a cigarette, lights it and hands it to me. It’s what we always do.
The day is fast and easy with Nathan. He makes me forget my dad. He fills a place inside that makes me feel safe. I have never felt that before. I think I could spend forever with Nathan. We do all of our shopping for college and end the day at the café at the bus station while we wait for his bus. We sit inside and share hot fruit juice and some buttered tea cakes. Will plays in the little area that is designed for children. He plays alone even though a little girl tries to get his attention. He isn’t interested.
The day has gone too fast for me. Soon it is time for Nathan to leave. It makes me sad inside. Like a dark pit in there that makes me wish I could close my eyes and not open them. He hugs me goodbye. I don’t like to hug people, but I can hug him. I like to. When he is there, I feel like the whole world disappears and I can do anything.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks. I say yes and grin. I can't wait. Scott is coming around later, but Nathan is coming tomorrow after work.
I feel like two different people. When I am with Nathan, then I don’t like Scott. We don’t fit and, in some ways, I think I dread that he comes around. He is loud. But then when I am with Scott, I am not sure I fit with Nathan. Nathan is simple and easy. He likes quiet and music. He doesn’t like to be all loud and get the attention. When I am with Scott, I can do that. He brings that out of me and I don’t care about anything.
Maybe I am the monster with different parts. I walk back home when Nathan’s bus pulls away. It’s pretty cold outside, but I don’t mind. I am used to it. I keep my hands in my sleeves as I push Will. Will is okay. He has a big coat that my Nan got for him. He’ll be covered in sweat no doubt when we get home, but at least he isn’t cold.
When I turn the corner, Scott’s car is parked outside my place. I can hear his music blaring from all down the street. Some part of me is happy that he is there. My place is daunting. I try not to look at the windows to my flat as I get closer, but my eyes are drawn to them. They have to check to make sure that the man from my past isn’t there. I don’t know who he was. My windows are dark and murky, but the curtains are open and my eyes keep glancing, needing to check one more time that he isn’t there. Sometimes I wished I remembered him. He’s like a shadow lurking in the corner of my mind. I can see his expression, the grin that he has, the way his teeth are, the yellow in the corners of his eyes. I see it all. The way his chin points. But I can't see him. I don’t know who he is.
I glance up again, just for a second. I am sure that he will be there, inside my flat. As I walk, the reflections from outside ripple along the window pane, giving the illusion of someone moving inside. I have to stop and check. I have to make sure that my eyes are just playing tricks.
Scott gets out of his car and starts to yell at me. The horn starts honking, and I realise that Neil is with him. I wave to them both. I wish they would be quiet. I have one chance, and they’re about to blow it.
I see Frank at his window. He is watching.
