'Boys don't get depression'

[It's quarter past 10 deep in central Liverpool and the evening rain pounds gently on the  Jackson family's little council house. The ghastly November breeze darts through the cracks in the walls and the gap under the front door. Mrs Jackson is working a night shift at the local care home and Mr Jackson is at the pub. As usual. Sam Jackson sits on his bed in his ripped up trackie bottoms, staring at the stains on his wall and the empty crisp packets on his floor. He reaches across to his bedside table and picks up a Liverpool FC notepad.]
Sam: What the bleeding 'ell do I even say ta this bird? Av never done this counselling crap before, even me mates don't listen to me venting.
[He picks up a pen]
Gotta make sure I mention mam n' dad.
[He scribbles down some messy words]
How do ah start? Well at least ano I can always hang up if things go shits up. An they probs will.
[Picks up his smashed up iPhone 4 and dials a number]
Shouldn't these geezers answer abit quicker since they're sposed ta be stopping kids topping 'emselves- oh, oh hiya, yeah I'm Sam, Sam Jackson. I'm 15.
[He pauses for a second and glances at the pad on his lap]
Well, uh, so me mam an dad are getting a divorce. S'been non-stop screamin an fightin in this household since... Since dad took up his drinking.
[Pauses]
Bout a year ago. Goes down pub every night, brings home voddy and all sorts from the corner shop. He's been hittin me lately too. Nah, nah, not hard or owt.
[Pauses, then wipes away a tear with the sleeve of his hoodie]
He stumbles home at stupid o'clock every night, mams always at work on her night shifts, and he just comes up to me room, screamin at me. "why've you not hoovered, Sam?" "why've ya not washed the pots?". When he's the one who leaves crap lyin' around. Yesterday he-
[Pauses for a second, speaks with a choked voice- as if holding back tears]
He woke me up at 2 in morning. He reeked of beer an his voice boomed so loud it made me tremble. Said he'd seen me in the schoolyard hanging out with a black boy- me mate Joe. He went off his head at me- "ya shouldn't be seen with lads of his kind, yano they only mean trouble. I had a black pall once- nicked me wallet first time I let him come down mine," Then he reached for ma neck. "If I see you with one of them boys again, I'll rip ya in half- d'ya hear me, boy?" An I jus nodded, can't argue back with me dad, you see, even tho he's a bloody Nazi. "They bring shame on this family" he said. Ah told him he's the one who brings shame on this family. He hit me. Still got the mark on me face, I have.
[Pauses]
No, couldn't tell anyone about it, there's no one ta tell. Mam would confront him about it an if she did, he'd beat her black 'n blue. No, my mates at school would jus laugh at me, tell me to man up. Joe's parents went through a divorce, he said it's nothing serious an for me to stop being such a pussy. "Ya get two different houses- it's proper sound!" he said.
[Pauses, looks at his notepad]
And I just feel so lonely. Av never had a girlfriend, but to be fair I've never shown much interest in girls. But if me dad saw me getting close with a lad that'd be the end of me- so I can't even try it. Even my mates don't really like me. They cancel plans on me cos I'm too 'moody' an 'depressed' all the time. An I can't even play video games with em because my play-station's from the bloomin' middle ages.
[Laughs, but immediately stops]
No, I've never got on well at school. Can never bring myself to do homework cos I'm always too bloody exhausted. Can't really focus with all the sceamin' goin' on downstairs anyway. Aha.
[Pauses]
Depression? Nah, I ain't got depression. Boys don't really get that sorta crap. We're only sposed to get sad if our favourite football team loses, aha. Ya want me to talk to mam about it? She's got too much shit going on in her head as it is- oh sorry, pardon my French.
[Pauses, listens to the woman on the phone for a minute]
Well, mam works in a care-home and dad got sacked for drinking on the job last year. Yeah, we're pretty poor now, cos of that, we're on the dole. Me mams been nagging and nagging him to quit the drinking but he just tells her to eff off. She's movin' out next week, the divorce paperwork is coming then too, i think. I have to stay with dad for a few weeks while mam "gets her head sorted". I can't deal with him for another day I'm scared he's gonna kill me!
[Pauses, starts crying softly]
I'm sorry, I'm sorry I need to get a grip.
[Pauses, looks at the bruises on his arm]
I can't go to the police, if dad finds out he'll knock me out. W-what? D'ya promise that if you ring em for me, my dad won't find out?
[Pauses]
Cheers, cheers. And I know, I'll try and tell me mam but it's hard an I don't wanna trouble her. Thank ya though.
[Smiles, pauses for a minute]
This weekend? At the drop in centre on Brook Road? Ya, I'll be there. Tank you, seriously. Tarra! Cheers, bye.
[He hangs up the phone, pauses for a second, then gets up off his bed. He walks over to the crisp packets on the floor, glinting under the artificial light in his bedroom, and puts them in the bin. He brings his Liverpool notepad over to his desk and begins writing. A note to his mother. He folds it up and heads downstairs to slip it into one of her coat pockets. It is now 11pm and Sam gets ready for bed. He opens his curtains a tad to allow the glistening moonlight to shine through into his room.]