Stake You

Chapter Two

I walked home after school, saving the money for eggs this time. I picked up some milk and a couple of other things, ready to force some food into my mother before I left for work. Friday night meant she could be alone until 5am. I needed to make sure she ate first.

As I left the corner shop, I noticed a vaguely familiar car parked outside. The engine revved, and I realised it was the same flash car I had seen at school. I moved closer to the car, and the driver pulled out sharply, but I caught a glimpse of his eyes minus the sunglasses and swallowed hard. A flash of red around the irises forced me back a step, my fingers gripping the plastic shopping bag as tightly as possible.

The car flew down the road and around the corner without any regard for the stop sign. I took a couple of deep breaths, mentally shaking myself for freaking out. He was probably wearing coloured lens contacts. What a gimp.

By the time I made it home, I had already forgotten about red-eyed little boy racers. My mother was sitting on the sofa when I let myself in. She hugged a bottle of wine to her chest, tears flooding her red-rimmed eyes.

“I called him, Dev. And he wouldn’t even speak to me. Called me all sorts of names. Said… said his wife was there.”

“You didn’t.” I rolled my eyes. Great. I thought I had gotten rid of all of the wine. It had always made her weepy. She was getting sneaky again, and I had grown too lax when it came to searching the house.

“What did I do wrong?” She hiccupped a sob.

“Mam. It’s not you, okay? Not this time. He’s not a good person. You know this. Stop hurting yourself over him.”

“But I loved him. I still do. We had so many good times together, Devlin. You didn’t see. You don’t know. You can’t understand what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

And I didn’t understand. I would never allow myself to love anyone. I would never be her. I would never cry over a man, never give one the power to hurt me like this. But I sat next to her, wrapped my arms around her, and gave her exactly five minutes to cry. I let her wallow in her pity party for five minutes only, and then I was back on my feet, ushering her into the shower and ignoring her sobs.

I scrubbed as much as I could in the kitchen, made her an omelette, and stood there and watched her force down a glass of water. She spluttered, eyeing me carefully, but I had to be firm. As much as I loved her, I knew full well that she could be sly when tempted to numb the pain with alcohol.

I filled a second glass and left it in front of her before looking for my uniform to get ready for work. I would send a takeaway to the house around midnight, and that should keep her going until the morning. Or afternoon, depending on when she woke up.

But the clean laundry basket was full of puke. Right on top of my uniform.

“Shit!”

I scrambled around my room, trying to find my spare, but it was probably buried under the permanent laundry mountain that existed in the living room. Taking deep, calming breaths, I rummaged through my wardrobe for my old uniform. The one that didn’t fit anymore. I really hoped a non-sleazy bartender was on call at work because the stupid uniform was way too tight and managed to look school-girl provocative instead of don’t-notice-me-unless-you-want-a-drink professional. Godamnit.

I pinned up my heavy load of hair and prayed it wouldn’t fall down at work. I wished I could have cut it short, but the last trim had made Mam cry for days, so I wasn’t going to risk it again. I couldn’t bear her tears.

Making sure I covered the dark circles under my eyes with makeup, I finally finished getting ready and made to leave. But Mam clung to me, gasping and crying, begging me to stay with her, desperate not to be alone. She was afraid of the dark, of the silence, afraid of everything, but she had me to depend on, and that was infinitely better than any of her loser ex-boyfriends.