Billy Carter

Chapter 30: Favourite Son

"I can't help that I'm so damn sexy."
For once, it wasn't me saying that. Ollie was stretched out on my king-sized bed, venting about Guy's latest attempt at seducing him. Apparently I wasn't the only one with a gropable butt - except I wasn't naked and showering in the locker-room at the gym when it happened.
"Well, you better not drop the soap," I teased. He rolled his eyes.
"See, this is why you need to start coming to the gym with me - to keep Guy's grubby hands off me."
"But then I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you. Fine."
"Huh?"
"I said fine. I'll start coming to the gym with you."
"Really?"
"Yes. At the very least I'll become strong enough to fight off Guy."
"You're the best." He sat up and kissed the side of my head. "I promise you won't hate it."
"Liar."
"Oh, you could see my fingers crossed behind my back, could you?" he teased. I smiled and he kissed me again, on the mouth. He lay back on my bed, and I watched him for a second before leaning over to kiss him. "You want to try again?" he asked quietly.
"Baby steps," I mumbled. He nodded, and reached up to touch my cheek.
"What if you took charge? What if it's all on you - then you remain in control. Do you think that could help? I'll be your puppet, and you can pull my strings however you want," he said with a smile, kissing me again.
"Ok. Good idea."
"But remember we don't even have to do this if you don't want."
"I know." I kissed him again and focused on him - proof that I was in fact with my boyfriend, not my step-father. I slipped one of my hands under his shirt to feel his stomach - here was an obvious difference. Oliver had hard, strong abs - not the soft beer gut Dad had. That was my anchor. Another anchor was his breath. Minty fresh, not stale alcohol.
"You're tensing up, Billy," he said softly. I sighed shakily and made myself relax. "We don't have to-"
"Yes we do!" I snapped.
"Bill-"
"I have to do this, Ollie."
"No. Billy, you don't have to do anything." He held my face in two hands and stared me down. "I'll stop if I think you're pushing yourself to do this. I won't let you do that to yourself - if you're not ready, you're not ready."
"But I want to be ready!" I told him, my voice cracking.
"Bill, look at me," Ollie sat up and kissed the top of my head. "I love you. I don't care if we don't sleep together ever again - I'm still going to love you. I'm not disappointed, or upset, or cross or whatever else you're worried about me being. You're traumatised, and it's ok-"
"It's not ok! I don't like it, Oliver! I don't want to be damaged! What I want is to have sex with you, but I can't because every time you touch me I get flashbacks! One way or another I'm going to get over it, and I'd rather do that sooner than later!" I told him.
"Bill, it doesn't work like that; this isn't a just-rip-the-bandaid-off kind of situation."
"And how would you know?"
"Because I've been researching this! Yes, all those things I said are still true, but I miss sex too. More than that, I love you, and I don't like seeing you sad or upset or being held back by what you've been through. I've been trying to look up ways to help you overcome this - I've even been talking to a counsellor about it! You can't push yourself - it'll just put you backwards. We both need to have patience. Got it?"
"I'm not patient though."
"I know."
"It's not fair."
"It's not, but unfortunately these are the cards you have been dealt. We need to take all this information in, and go from there."
"I hate that you're so smart. It makes me feel so dumb sometimes."
"Really?" he asked, looking surprised.
"Sometimes," I admitted. "I feel like you're Einstein and I'm a dancing monkey." He looked gutted, and I immediately felt terrible. "But, that's nothing against you, that's my insecurity," I told him, trying to make him feel better. "I mean, I'm so proud of you! I love your clever head, it turns me on so much!"
"Do I really make you feel inferior?" he asked me with a concerned frown.
"I don't know what that means."
"Billy-"
"I was joking! No, you don't."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes!"
"I don't tell you what to do, do I? I try to offer good advice, but I don't want to be bossy. Am I a know-it-all?"
"Honestly, sometimes. To the last one, I mean. But you don't do it very much, and I call you out when you do. Now."
Ollie frowned morosely and rest his chin in his hand, staring off into space.
"Hey, cheer up," I said, shuffling over and rubbing his shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I'm sorry."
"No, I know," he sighed.
"I love you."
"I love you- whoa. Do you realise your hand is in my pants?"
"Oh that's were I left it," I said sarcastically, kissing the tip of his ear, then his neck.
"Were you listening to anything I said before?"
"Yes. If you still think we need to take it slow, you better stop me."
"... I'm paralysed by your charms."
"Is that what we're calling it?" I asked with a laugh. I nipped at his neck and he finally turned around to kiss me back.
The door opened and Johnny came in, catching us mid-kiss.
"Shit, sorry!" he said, as me and Ollie jerked away from each other. "Didn't realise you were here, Ollie."
"That's ok-"
"No it's not, go away!" I said.
"I'll go away in a second, just hear me out," Johnny said, sitting on my bed.
"What do you want?" I asked irritably. "You realise I could be getting a blowjob right now?"
Ollie scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Oh? From whom?" He asked sarcastically, shifting to make room for Johnny. Johnny raised an eyebrow at me.
"Anyroad, what do you want?" I asked Johnny, turning back to my half-brother.
"I wanted to talk to you about... this," he took a CD out of his back pocket and held it up for us to see.
"... which is?"
"A CD." I rolled my eyes and he laughed again. "Just catching up on years of missed brotherly banter," he told me. "And practicing my dad jokes."
"Well two can play that game," I warned him.
"Anyway, this is a very special CD."
"Why?"
"Because it's yours."
"... Speak plainly, thank you," I told him, getting impatient.
"It's your CD. Do you- where's your stereo?" He got up and looked around my room.
"Over there on the bookshelf but it only plays the radio and cassettes."
"How old is that thing?" Johnny asked, frowning at it from across the room.
"I don't know, Mum bought it from Saint Vinnie's when I was two or something," I shrugged.
"Remind me to buy you a new one. Well never mind, I already put it on my phone. Here." He fucked about with his phone a bit before I heard a familiar melody coming from it.
"Is that-"
"That's your song!" Ollie exclaimed excitedly. Johnny grinned.
"I tidied it up a bit in the studio today, just to give you a taste of what your music would sound like should you get your shit together and actually have it professionally recorded. How good does it sound?" It did sound pretty good. "Of course you'll do it your own way, but I wanted to show you the possibilities. I think you're really good Billy - you and your whole band. You perform brilliantly, you create intimacy with the audience and what's more, your songs fucking rock! From one musician to another, I think you have a goldmine here, and just think about how many more people you'd be enabling to enjoy your music - on a global scale! Think of how many people will relate to your songs, how many people will find an escape in your album, how many people will sing along to it at the top of their lungs and how much joy your music could bring people. Because that's what it's all about, isn't it? Music is about... communication. It's melodies and harmonies and poetry and emotion. It's about bringing people together and celebrating, it's about expression, about touching on something that can't otherwise be put into words. It's beautiful and it's magical and it's all the stuff we live for. Please. Please please please let me produce your first album." He'd gotten onto his knees and was clasping his hands in front of me and everything. Honestly, his passion impressed me - and I hoped for everything he'd just said - it's what I wanted too, it's what I loved so much about music and my favourite musicians. "Please?" he asked again.
"... I'll have to speak to the others first," I told him. He grinned and leaped to his feet, and wrapped me up in a brotherly bear hug.
"You're the best, little bro!" he told me, giving me a tight squeeze.
"Air!" I gasped, and he let go of me.
"Fuck, I'm so excited!" Johnny said. "Promise me you'll call them tonight!"
"I promise. I can't promise they'll pick up, though."
"Then promise me you'll leave a voicemail."
"Ok."
"Good. Nelly said dinner will be ready soon - we made spaghetti bolognese. She said it's one of your favourites."
"We?"
"I helped. You know your mother's an amazing cook."
"So's Billy, actually," Ollie told Johnny.
"Really?"
"You have to try his pancakes sometime."
"I like the sound of that," Johnny winked at me and gave Ollie a fist-bump before heading back out the door, closing it behind him and taking my music with him.
"Now where were we?"
"Johnny said Nelly said dinner will be ready soon."
"Yes, soon as in 'not now'," I pointed out.
"After dinner."
"You won't be in the mood after dinner!"
"Will so! Do you doubt my sex drive? After just over a month of no sex whatsoever?"
"Well it's not my fault if you haven't been masturbating," I scoffed.
"Oh trust me, I have been. Basically half my arm workout is just that motion."
I laughed - because I knew that he was joking (to some degree, at least) - and he grinned in return.
"Well, I will admit that your stamina is impressive," I told him.
"Thank you." We got up and started walking to the door. "Will you actually go to the gym with me?" he asked.
"Yeah. I meant it when I said it. I'll protect you from Guy."
"Good. And it'll be good for you anyway. Don't get me wrong, I think you're perfect just as you are, but if you put on just a little bit of muscle - well, you'd just look completely amazing. But mostly I think it'd boost your confidence, besides just being healthy."
"Are you kidding me? I am perfection."
We went downstairs to join everyone at the dining table. This was the third night Eddie and Johnny and their families had been here, and so far Ollie had been present for every dinner - he probably spent more time here that at his own home, which no one seemed to mind - except for his parents, who'd started carrying on about how he doesn't love them anymore and blah, blah, blah.
"Well hello again Oliver," Eddie smiled at him as we came into the room. "Maybe it'd be worth putting another bed in Billy's room for you," he joked. "Or you may as well move into the other spare bedroom."
"Sorry," Ollie said, a little self-consciously.
"No, no, don't apologise! I think it's great you're here, Billy needs his friends around right now," Eddie said, and I rolled my eyes.
"William, how many times do I have to tell you not to roll your eyes at people?" Mum snapped at me. "It's rude!"
"Sorry," I mumbled, trying so hard not to roll my eyes again at her.
"Good. Go get the garlic bread out of the oven, would you?"
"Yes, Mum." I trudged into the kitchen like the slave I was.
"Oliver, help yourself to a drink if you like, dear. Would you like a glass of wine?"
"That'd be really nice Nelly, but I don't think my parents would approve."
"How come he gets a glass of wine?!" I yelled out from the kitchen, using a tea-towel to get the hot tray out of the oven.
"Oliver's not my child, sweetheart!" Mum called back, teasingly. I could hear her grin in her voice.
"Oh, the injustice!" I cried dramatically. I heard Mum and Oliver laughing as I put the garlic bread on a plate to set on the table. When I came back out, tray balanced precariously on my cast, I saw a glass of wine waiting at my spot between Ollie and Mum. I grinned smugly and set the garlic bread on the table. "We won't be fearing any Vampires tonight," I said.
"Smells like you're right," Johnny said, sitting down at the opposite end of the table to Eddie. I started to take my seat and Mum stopped me.
"What?" I asked her. Someone put their hand on my shoulder and I jerked back.
"Oh, sorry Bill," Harry said. "Didn't mean to scare you. That's my spot, by the way."
"I don't like you anymore," I grumbled, taking the seat next to Ollie, adjacent to Johnny.
"Hello Oliver," Harry smiled at Ollie.
"How are you Mr. Roberts?"
"Call me Harry, please. We're not in school."
"Steal my boyfriend too, why don't you?" I whispered grumpily to myself. I like Harry, I do, and I think he deserves Mum a fuck ton more than Dad did, but I felt like he was stepping on my toes every now and then. Johnny overheard me and chuckled quietly.
"I know the feeling, Bill," he murmured to me, twisting some spaghetti around his fork. "Trust me - she'll always love you more."
"I know... I'm just disappointed."
"Why?"
"I thought that wine was for me."
He laughed again and nudged his wine glass over to me. "Happy now?" he asked. I grinned in response and helped myself to a drink.
"William!" Mum exclaimed.
"He said I could!"
"Sorry Nelly."
"It's alright, John. Fine, I'll get you a glass." Mum got up and went to the wine rack in the corner and took a glass from the cupboard. "Little booze hound," she muttered, coming back over and pouring a glass for me.
"Thank-you Mummy."
"Hmm."
"Eddie?"
"Yes?"
"Can I let Blue in after dinner?"
Eddie didn't like the idea of animals in his house. It may have something to do with the fact that Blue Jean chewed up the skirting board in the hallway.
"... If you keep an eye on her."
"I will."
"Ok."
"Have you taught her anything new?" Ollie asked me.
"Oh, yeah. She sits, stays, and she lies down, and I've almost taught her to rollover. She rolls onto her back and does this weird wiggle thing. It's adorable." I smiled proudly.
"You should teach her to shake."
"Oh she does that. I taught her to fist-bump, too."
"Really?"
"Yeah!"
"If only you put so much effort into your maths homework," Mum sighed.
"Well my maths homework isn't nearly as cute as a fist-bumping dog. After she masters rolling-over, I'm gonna teach her to kill. Put her onto Kenny Leary."
"He actually hasn't been that bad," Ollie reminded me. "I don't think he's even spoken to us for a few weeks, except for when he yelled at you at Cyn's party."
"He doesn't need to open his shitty mouth, he says it all with his beady little eyes," I grumbled.
"They're having some money problems at the moment, honey," Mum told me. "Go easy on him."
"How do you know? Didn't they stop talking to you when I was born?"
"Robert asked me for money."
"Why? We don't have any."
"I know, but he seems to think that I can sue Eddie for all the child support we missed out on. And maybe I could, but I don't want to. And Robert only wants me to so he can borrow the money from me."
Eddie cleared his throat. "I'm sure I can-"
"No, Eddie. Even if I had the money I wouldn't give it to him," Mum told him. "He doesn't deserve it. And they aren't in as much trouble as they think - if they'd just sell their ridiculous mansion and downsize all their problems would be solved."
"They live in a mansion?"
"They live two doors down from Annabelle," Ollie told me.
"What?"
"Where did you think they lived?"
"Under a bridge, with all the other trolls."
"Who's Robert?" Johnny asked.
"My brother," Nelly told him. "Kenneth - or Kenny - is his son, my nephew and Billy's cousin."
"And a giant prick," I said.
"They've never gotten along," Ollie told Johnny.
"You're probably too much alike, in all honesty," Mum told me.
"You take that back!" I demanded.
"Yeah, I wouldn't go that far," Harry told Mum, coming to my aid. "I've taught both of them for years, and as far as I'm concerned, Kenny's the antagonist."
"Thank you. See? Now I like you again," I told Harry
"What do you mean 'again'?" Harry asked me.
"Well I'm supposed to dislike you, aren't I? You're shagging my Mum after all."
Mum choked on her spaghetti. "William! That's enough!" Mum warned after she'd recovered.
"Sorry," I said, picking at my pasta with my fork.
"So what do you teach, Haris?" Eddie asked.
"Music, actually," Harry told him.
"He taught me how to play guitar," I told Eddie. "And piano. And bass guitar. And drums. I figured harmonica out by myself though."
"Mrs. Robyn taught you violin."
"Yeah, until she got too sick. I'd still come over after school and play for her though."
"She always loved you."
"She was the closest I've ever had to a grandmother - a decent one, I mean. She smelt kind of musty and was always feeding me tea and biscuits." Harry laughed.
"Do you still play violin?" Eddie asked me.
"Well, I pick it up every now and then," I told him. "Mrs. Robyn had this really cool violin - like, super professional. It's made of mahogany and everything. Valued over two-thousand pounds. She left it to me in her Will."
"Oh, wow! Have you still got it?"
"Yeah, it's in it's little case. I reckon it's ancient."
"I didn't realise how many instruments you can play," Johnny told me. "That's pretty incredible."
"Well, it's the only thing I've ever been good at," I said with a shrug.
"That's not true, you're good at football," Ollie told me. "Think you'll play this season?"
"Maybe. But I mean with academics and stuff. I've never been good at smart stuff. Like English and Maths and science and all that."
"You did really well in Year 11 when we were focusing on poetry," Ollie said.
"Yeah, Mr. Skinerd said if my assignment wasn't riddled with spelling mistakes and grammatical errors he'd have given me a 9."
"So what did he give you?"
"I got an 8. First 8 I ever got. In a non-music related subject, at least."
"I remember that, I put it up on the fridge!" Mum said with a smile.
"8? 9?" Johnny asked with a frown.
"8 is an A, 9 is an A+," Eddie told him.
"Oh."
"We have Very Low, Low, Medium, High and Very High in Australia," Holly piped up.
"We've got U, which means it wasn't graded because it was never handed in or completed. Then numbers 1 to 9," I said. "Brainiac here always gets 9s. Always."
"And so will you. Next year," Ollie told me.
"You really think I can go from an average of 4 to 9?" I asked him.
"Well two months ago you didn't know who your father was - now you're living in his house. And of course now we know about your dyslexia, so we'll research and trial a bunch of different study strategies for you to see what works best. You never know, Bill."
"... Good point."
"So will you play football next season? I'll pull some strings and get you on mine and Tony's team."
"Fine, sign me up. Hey, um, Eddie?"
"Yes?" he asked suspiciously.
"Can I please have eighty-quid for football registration? And can you perhaps shout me some new football boots? And money to cover the uniform?"
"Oh, sure. What position do you play?" Eddie asked.
"Wing attack. Ollie's a centre. Tony's the other wing."
"Together we win lots of matches. Unstoppable trio."
"Until the bills got too much, at least," I said. "Then it was just the dynamic duo. Helped that we had a good coach though."
"Well... Yeah," Ollie said quietly. "He actually had some good strategies. We still use a few of them."
"Yeah." I glanced over at Mum and noticed how focused she was on her dinner.
"Who was your coach?" Eddie asked.
"Dad," I told him. Things got tense.
"Billy," Mum sighed. "Don't you think it would be better if you stopped pretending he was a Saint?" she asked, trying to be gentle. I grit my teeth and ate another mouthful of pasta. "You can't... I know it's hard, but-"
"Just stop," I snapped. I couldn't help myself.
"Excuse me?" Mum asked, raising her eyebrow angrily. "Don't tell me to 'stop'! Stop what?"
"Just stop! There's no point, we just end up yelling at each other about it, or you two end up yelling at each other about it and I get caught in the middle!" I exclaimed, gesturing to Mum and Eddie. "It's not worth it!"
"I'm not the one who brought him up!"
"What, so I can't mention something he was involved in? He raised me all my life, I'm pretty sure that's verging on impossible!"
"I never said that! But you can't... you can't just-"
"Talk about him? He's not Voldemort for fuck's sake!"
"Watch your language, William!" Mum scolded me. "You can't just talk about him so casually!"
"Why not? Does it offend you?" I asked sarcastically, rolling my eyes at my dinner.
"Honey, it terrifies me!" Mum exclaimed. I glanced at her and an uncomfortable shiver ran down my spine. She'd just changed the tone of our argument completely; her fury turned to sorrow so quickly I worried she might have thrown the Earth off its axis. "It terrifies me to see you being so flippant about it!" she continued. "Like it's no big deal, like it doesn't matter! It makes me worry that one day someone else will take advantage of you and hurt you - and you'll let them because you think it's normal, because you think that it's excusable, that it doesn't matter or that you don't matter."
She might have had a point. I didn't like it very much. My chest constricted and I could feel
everyone's eyes on me - I could practically hear their thoughts, their judgments. I wanted to leave, to go hungry again, but I didn't want anyone to know how she'd gotten to me.
So I downed Johnny's glass of wine, got up, snatched up the bottle, and went upstairs to my bedroom.
"Good plan Billy, very discreet," I muttered to myself as I trudged up the stairs. Once again, I could still hear them in the dining room. I was waiting for Ollie to come after me, but he didn't. Well, he tried to.
I heard a chair move and figured it was Ollie.
"No, Ollie. Stay here for a second," Mum told him. "Actually come into the kitchen with me, I'd like a quick chat - if anyone knows what's going on in his head, it's you."
"May I come? I'd like to hear that too," Eddie added.
"Um, ok," Ollie said, sounding unsure.
I couldn't hear them well enough to make out what they were saying once they went into the kitchen, so I let it go and continued to my bedroom. Most of the wine was in glasses back at the dining table, but I had a bottle of vodka stashed in my desk drawer. I finished the wine and took a mouthful of vodka to calm my nerves, then I sat down at my desk, opened up my notebook and picked up a pen. Once I worked out my first line, the rest of my lyrics poured out like some imaginary dam had broken. My hands shook, but I pressed on.
I finished the lyrics fairly quickly, then I worked on touching them up here and there. I had the melody already in my head, and I'd written most of that down when I heard a knock on my door and Ollie came in. He had my bowl of spaghetti.
"Hey. Thought you might still be hungry," he said.
"Thanks." I took the bowl he offered and eagerly started eating. "Was the interrogation bad?"
"No. I explained where you're coming from, by the way. They're trying to find a new way to approach the topic with you."
"Why didn't you tell them to just leave me alone?" I grumbled.
"Because when you're left alone there's secret abuse and suicide attempts. You need to open up and talk about it. I don't mean you have to talk about it with everyone or all the time, but if you stay silent and keep it bottled up like you have been all this time, it's just going to explode inside of you. You need to let it out somehow."
"But I don't even know what to say," I mumbled.
"Then just start talking. You don't seem to know what you're talking about half the time anyway, and you still let the words out of your mouth." He was teasing me to lighten the mood, but it wasn't working.
"This is different."
"I know," he said, and reached out to give my hand a squeeze. "How about we start with something... well, not smaller. Slightly different. I've been meaning to ask you about it anyway."
"About what?"
"Your car accident the other week."
"Oh."
"You said... you said it was my fault..?"
"Shit, no! I didn't mean it like that," I hurried to correct him. "I meant it was your fault that I couldn't go through with it. I was all ready to go and I turned the radio up and Let's Dance was on. It made me think of you, and it made me think of everything you'd said after I took all those pills. It made me change my mind, and it gave me the courage to stand up to Dad the next day. I told him that I love you and nothing he did could ever change that. Then he broke my arm and he... y'know," I said shyly. I glanced up at Ollie and blinked back tears - not sad ones though, they were happy tears. I was overwhelmed with just how much Ollie meant to me. He thought I was sad though.
"You don't have to talk about-"
"It's not that," I laughed. I brought his hand - still holding mine - up to my lips and kissed his knuckles. "I'd do anything for you, Oliver - risk anything. I'd bring a car to a screeching halt, I'd come out and stand up to my aggressively homophobic and violent step-father - because I love you and you're worth fighting for. We are worth fighting for. I love you. I love you. I know we say it all the time lately - and I love that, too - but I really mean it, Ollie. I love you so much."
"Are we interrupting something?"
I looked up and stared at the doorway in horror. Eddie was leaning against the door-frame and Mum was standing on her tip-toes to peer around his broad shoulders. What is it with people and not knocking?
"Do you love me enough to come out to your long-lost father?" Ollie asked, taking his hand back and shifting to face Eddie and Mum.
"I'm not going to throw you around the room, William," Eddie said, and Mum smacked his arm and gave him a warning look he didn't pay much attention to. "I just want to know what's going on. I've come here to be a part of your life, after all. And I couldn't care less about the gay-trans-lesbian stuff."
"Well... how do you feel about bisexuals?"
"Oh, I can't stand them. Greedy little sex-crazed mongrels." He fake-shuddered to emphasise the sarcasm in his comment, and I released the breath I'd been holding. "So are you both bisexual?"
"I'm gay," Ollie told him.
"Ok. How long have you been together?"
"Nine months," I told him. He let out a low whistle.
"That's a long time to be keeping this a secret. When did you realise you were bisexual?"
"Um... nine months ago."
"Oh." He raised his eyebrows.
"You could say I put the 'bi' in Bill-"
"Don't, Ollie." I rubbed my forehead and he pursed his lips awkwardly as Mum smiled at him.
"Who else knows about your sexuality? And that you two are dating?"
"Mum, Harris, all of our friends, Ollie's parents and family, my psychologist or counsellor or whatever, and Johnny and Caitlin. And Dad."
"Johnny and Caitlin know?"
"Only since Thursday night - we were making the bed because I'd forgotten to do it earlier and they stumbled upon some, um, evidence."
"Gay porn magazines," Ollie unnecessarily explained.
"Thank-you for clarifying that, Oliver."
"You are very welcome, William."
"Alright, alright," Eddie chuckled and shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"
I just stared at him. "Why do you think?" I asked in response. He thought about it and nodded.
"Fair enough. I would like you to tell Michelle and Holly, though - before too long, at least. I want honesty and openness from you, and I promise to give you the same in return. I think all these secrets put too much pressure on you, and honestly, there's no reason for them to be secrets. We aren't interested in judging you or anything of the sort - we want to get to know the real you, anyway."
"I'm just worried about any of this, y'know, getting out. I'm not ready for the world to know I'm bisexual. If anyone picks up on it next thing we know it'll be all about over the news and television and I really don't want that. Same goes for everything with Dad."
"Alright, I understand. We wanted to speak with you about that, anyway - before we got sidetracked."
I groaned and slumped back in my chair.
"We were wondering, baby, if perhaps you wanted to pursue the matter... in court?" Mum asked me. I stared at her in shock.
"What? You want me to take him to court? Why?! It's over, you're getting a divorce and we're living here now!" I told her. "It's not necessary!"
"He broke the law, Billy - he's committed some very serious crimes, and he should pay for it," Eddie told me.
"What? He's just lost his wife and kid! Isn't that enough? He'll probably lose the house too now - does that make you feel better? Does that make you happy? Hell, he'd probably be better off in prison; three square meals a day, no bills to pay, no rent - just some questionable bunk mates," I snapped bitterly. "No, I like things just the way they are, thank you. Although I wouldn't mind being able to speak to him for five minutes," I muttered. Mum had been banning me from messaging or ringing Dad ever since we left the police station after I made my statement. It didn't really matter what she said, because even when I ignored her instructions and tried to ring him he wouldn't pick up.
"Sweetheart, the police told me not to let you contact him - and he's not supposed to contact you, either!" Mum told me.
"But don't you want justice, Bill?" Eddie asked me.
"No!" I exclaimed. "I don't want justice - I want you to leave me alone!"
"But-"
"Eddie, he said no," Mum said sternly, coming to my aid. "Drop it."
"Fine!" Eddie stomped off in a huff. I guess we hurt his feelings or something.
"Sweetheart, can I talk to you for a second?" Mum asked, stepping into my room and closing the door.
"You already are."
"About Steven," she explained.
I sighed loudly and got out of my chair to collapse on my bed beside Ollie. He gave my leg a supportive squeeze.
"Fine," I sighed.