CHARACTER VIEWS DO NOT REPRESENT MY OWN. Please be civil in the comment section.
J Cole is my babes.
It was the second of January when on a snowy morning, I was shaken from my sleep. Bleary eyed and mouth covered in dried drool, I stared up at Aunt Jade and asked. "What is it? Is it Dad?
"No - well, I suspect is it about him. Chief Michaels is here, with questions concerning your father. Get up and hurry and get dressed. He looks like he's just came back from sucking a cheesy dick. The man is not patient at all."
With that pleasant image in my mind, I threw back my covers and stumbled as I made my way over the avalanche of Jade's stuff to the bathroom. I washed my face and cleaned my teeth and wrapped my dressing gown around me and slipped my feet into my furry slippers before heading down into the shop. On the way, I caught the time. It was half ten in the morning and having gone out with Irvin for a couple of drinks last night, I was honestly feeling like I've been dragged through hell and back by my hair.
The middle aged man with the sour face and greying hair stood up as I walked in. His face was tired and his smile was forced. "Morning, I left your aunt a message that'd I'd be paying a visit."
"Yeah, she mentioned something," I replied, sitting down on the chair opposite him. I sat cross-legged, flinching back against the cold floor.
"Did you have a good Christmas?"
"Hmm," I nodded and turned my face away as I yawned tiredly.
There was sounds of clomping and Jade appeared. Her face was haggard and her mascara was smudged under her sharp green eyes. Her dyed flaming red hair was dismayed and her nipple rings poked out from her t-shirt. "Do I need to call my lawyer?"
Chief Michaels sighed and his gaze regarded Jade in contempt. "I already told you, this isn't an official visit. I just want a talk with Shay regarding her father, alone, so if you wouldn't mind..."
Jade looked at me.
"I'll be fine," I assured her and as she made her way back upstairs, I straightened up in the chair, on high alert.
Chief Michaels looked at me, glanced down at the folder in his hands before meeting my gaze and saying. "She's cautious, isn't she? Almost as if she's afraid you'll say the wrong thing."
"Not cautious, just protective. And I - we have nothing to hide."
"Of course," his eyebrows rose slightly and he cleared his throat. "You can relax. I want to ask you a few questions. Have you seen your father around?"
"The missing posters are still up. What do you think?"
"Yes or no?"
"No," I smiled forcefully.
"Is it possible for your father to be in hiding?"
"I don't know, is it?"
"How well do you know him?"
"Well enough considering he is my father."
"You're a smart kid," Michaels looked like he wanted to throttle me. He opened up his folder, taking out a paper and sliding it across the floor to me.
I stepped on it and he looked at me, ordering. "Take a look."
Turning over the paper, I almost threw it away. Sickness crawled up my throat and I averted my eyes away. It was a picture of a teenaged boy and an older woman on a sofa, both with a bullet in their head, and their blood was splattered like paint on the wall behind them. "What is this?"
"The Russo family or what is left of them. There's more," Chief Michaels took out another photograph, half bent down to slide it over me.
"I don't wish to see it."
"Are you sure? It's a pretty picture of the rest of the Russo family in their burnt out car. They're dead, too."
"I don't get why you're showing me, I don't know who the Russo family are."
"That's funny you say that," Michaels took on a sardonic attitude, pulling out what seemed to be a newspaper clipping. "This was found in your father's office. Recognise it?"
"Should I?"
"You're doing a very good job of avoiding answering my questions, Shay."
"Really? I thought we were having a two-way conversation here."
"This is an article from 2002. Armani Cannon, your mother, dies from a single gunshot wound. While he was never convicted, Michael Russo was the one behind the trigger. Russo has been dead for a while now but his cousins and his family were still alive - until recently."
"Sorry. I'm confused. What was your question again?"
He sighed tiredly. "I get it. You want to protect your father. But he is no longer a missing man. We have video evidence of him murdering the Russo family. He's a wanted man and I wanted to tell you in person before you read it in today's paper."
My insides were twisted and I had a sick taste in my mouth as if I hadn't cleaned my teeth. My comebacks to Chief Michaels died on my tongue as I came head with the seriousness of the situation. It was surreal; Dad murdering these people for revenge. He was strict, he was mean and he was a bully, sometimes but to take these people's lives for something someone else did was evil. Especially the child; I wanted to erase the horrific image from my head.
I worried how Seth would take the news.
I could already imagine everyone we knew, our neighbours, our friends turning against us. No-one would help us now. Shit, I could see the horizon going up in flames.
Anxiousness made me fidget.
"I think you know what I'm talking about," Chief Michaels said and his voice became a dull buzz in the background as I was hauled back to the past when Cole told me the news. Why didn't I believe him? It was as if his words went through one ear and exited the next. He knew a week before. It made me inquisitive as to what else he knew. "...Irvin Tehrani?"
"What?" I jolted out of my thoughts and back to the present.
Chief Michaels was standing over me and I leaned back in my chair, wondering if I needed to jab him in the crotch. He gave me a weird look, holding his hand out. I followed his pointed gaze to the scrunched up picture in my hand, murmured an apology and passed it over.
He straightened the paper. "So?"
"So...?" I repeated unsurely.
"Will you keep away from Irvin? He's not the type of person I'd be happy seeing my daughter with, she's the same age as you. I don't mean to tell you what to do but you can understand my concern when I saw you with that troublesome lot and Cole a few weeks back. They're not good people and I'm sure you can find another boy, one that doesn't get into trouble with the law every other week."
"Oh. Uh, yeah." I said awkwardly and let Chief Michaels out of the shop. He bid me a good day, told me to keep safe and took his pity with him when he left.
Through my conflicting thoughts, I realised Chief Michaels thought Irvin and I were going out and made a face: as if!
+ + +
Seth's face fell and his spoon clattered against his bowl. He became angry very quickly, a storm brewed in his eyes and he threw the newspaper to the side. "This is fucking bullshit!"
"Language!" Jade scolded. "But I agree, it is fucking bullshit. Your father would never do something like that."
I remained silent as they trashed the article which labelled Dad as a 'dangerous individual who must not be approached' and shredded his missing persons story. What pissed me off was the pictures they had of Dad. Ruby's father, Mr. Wilson clearly was happy to hand over pictures, despite the blur, I recognised the picture of him and Dad fishing from last year. It was now a manhunt for a murderer and it baffled me at how first he was a 'caring single father' to a 'mass murderer'. Mum was in the newspaper too, they had a whole section on her being killed and Dad being described as a mad psychopath on the path to revenge.
"... I'm going to the shopping centre to put up the posters."
"No, you're not, Seth."
"Yes, I am! Just because -"
I stood up, glaring. "You're not going to put up another poster. Don't you think you've put up enough? People won't take it, alright? They're going to see the news and rip down every damn poster. Stay in the house. You're not going out."
"Where are you going?" Jade asked.
"Out," I said.
"It's like you agree that he did kill those people!" Seth yelled furiously.
"Maybe I do," I replied quietly.
+ + +
Irvin, in his long coat and skinny jeans, was in the shop. I could smell the mothballs and out-of-date baked beans cans from outside the shop. It felt like everyone was staring at me, accusing me of murdering too, and after an agitated moment, I walked into the shop. There was only an middle aged old lady at the till, reading an erotic novel, her feet propped up onto the counter. She didn't look up as the bell rang over my head. I strolled up the isle casually, my gaze flying to one item to the next and then flickered upwards to the camera.
I bent down, grabbing a six can packet of coke cans and holding it under my arm, I sauntered out of the shop. It was too easy. I expected the blare of an alarm and the old bat to come chasing me after she set down her dild0. Excitement buzzed through my veins and it felt like a sense of accomplishment; the cans were my trophy.
Irvin ambled out of the shop half a minute later. "Did you...?" he questioned in almost disbelief.
"Guess I'm my father's child; we're both criminals."
He grinned wickedly, slinging an arm around my neck. "I'm proud of you."
I tried giving him a smile but failed to, worry stuck to me like sweat and the coke cans became menacing; weighing me down and almost forcing me to hold my arms out for the handcuffs.
I tried to reason with my morals; it was only a couple of drinks, it's not like the old lady will become homeless as an effect of my theft. It was stupid to dwell, I've already got my sticky hands, no need to rough them up.
+ + +
"Chief Michaels thinks we're going out."
"Yeah?" Irvin asked, looking up from where he sat beside me on the swings. "What did you say?"
"I didn't deny it. I was kind of worrying about my Dad being a murderer, you know? But it's mental. I don't ever see us going out. Do you?"
"No," he snorted and shook his head. "But do you want to test it?"
"How?"
He stood up abruptly, taking my face in his hands and leaning down to kiss me. After a moment, he pulled back.
Concurrently, we both made a face, shaking our heads. "Nah!"
Irvin laughed. "Shame we can't be friends with benefits."
"Yeah, that's something I'll cry myself to sleep at night."
"Do you want to meet my grandma?"
"I thought we established that I'm never going to be your girlfriend."
He gave me a shove. "Come on, let's go."
We took the bus. Leaving the bus stop, we turned down a quiet street of terraced houses. A black cat was curled up on a wall, sleeping peacefully. "This is where I live," Irvin held his arms out.
"Does your grandma live with your parents?"
"Mum died in Iran. Some fucked up uncle stabbed her because she married a white man. She went over there when I was three. If she hadn't left me in England, I'd be killed too. My father, the fuck-face piece of shit couldn't cope so he dropped me off to my Grandma's - my mother's mum - a week after she died. I owe everything to my Grandma. She's the greatest. You'll love her." Irvin pushed open the painted gate, pulled out his keys and opened the front door.
I followed him in. The hallway was narrow, there was a black and gold painting of a mosque hanging on the wall and red carpet on the floor. Irvin kicked off his shoes and I copied him. The second door we came to led to the living room and it was much larger than I expected. There were three sofas, a large glass cabinet in a corner, a fireplace, a TV and calligraphic words in what I think was Arabic. Irvin caught me staring. "It means God."
The door opened and I turned.
Irvin's Grandma looked to be around seventy years old. She was skinny, grey hair, small face and she wore a blue hijab. Her face lit up when she saw Irvin and she cried out in a language I didn't recognise. They hugged and kissed on the cheek. Irvin gestured to me and upon hearing my name, I realised he was explaining who I was. I felt nervous and I didn't know why. I was dressed in jeans, a top and a pale pink mohair coat. Did I look suitable? What if she didn't speak English? I might've been Irvin's girlfriend for all the freaking out I did.
"Shay, meet my Grandma," Irvin urged me forward.
"Nice to meet you," she said in perfect English and I relaxed when she smiled at me.
"You too," I was relieved that we wouldn't have the language barrier. "You have a nice house."
"Thank you, would you like something to eat?"
"Oh, no thanks. We just ate." I answered, wondering what she'd think of us stealing food.
She turned to Irvin, switching languages and then left the room.
"Did I say something wrong?" I asked.
He turned on the TV. "You don't refuse food from my Grandma. Sit down. She'll be back soon."
When she returned, she came with enough food to feed a large family. I soon realised no wasn't an answer and accepted the plate of food. The food was great and I ate the chicken kebabs, and the rice and the mince curry with chapatti and choked on the chilli sauce which Irvin laughed at me for being too white but I had to decline when she offered me more food.
Disappointment was etched on her face.
I picked up my plate again.
Irvin was right; I couldn't refuse.
+ + +
"I love your Grandma, and I love her food but I feel pregnant," I placed a hand on my bulging stomach. "I've ate too much."
Irvin and I had left his home and were ambling about on the street. It was already dark and the snow had become icy. "That's grandmas for you," Irvin lifted up his t-shirt. "I don't think I'll be getting a six pack anytime soon."
"Not with the amount of chocolate you steal and eat," I pulled up my own top. "Well, I don't think I'll be a supermodel anytime soon."
"We'll become fat together, what do you say? I think I'll suit having moobs."
I laughed and it became a yell halfway through as I slipped on a stretch of ice. I anticipated the fall but arms wrapped around my waist, slamming me against their chest and a strong stench of alcohol attacked my nose.
My heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach as a rough hand held a knife to my throat. I was frozen with shock and fear and a cruel voice taunted Irvin. "New girlfriend, huh? I'd love to see this bitch bleed out and paint us a pretty picture, wouldn't you?"
CHARACTER VIEWS DO NOT REPRESENT MY OWN. Please be civil in the comment section.