Lay Low 'Missing' Chapters

People Who Knew

I had learned quickly that people were afraid of Tony.  His frame, his demeanour.  He was the kind of person who, if you saw him walking towards you, you had an urge to cross the street but weren't sure why.  Maybe I am over exaggerating.  It is hard for me to see him as anything other than dangerous.  I guess that is why when people finally did find out he was hurting me, nothing ever came of it.  They were too afraid.  It was our neighbours who first became suspicious. 

Tony was in one of his moods and was looking for any reason to go for me.

"What the hell is taking you so long?" Tony's lips were by my ear as he hissed these words.  The quiet tone only added to the fear I felt.  My legs began to wobble a bit: I leaned heavily against the sink to stay upright.

"Um, almost done," I managed to mumble.  If my tone was light, maybe he would lighten up.

His hands wrapped around my shoulders.

"You are so fucking slow."  His fingers felt like vices around my arms.

Fear engulfed me and I couldn't move, my hands still in the dishwater.

"I feed you, put clothes on your back, even though you aren't mine, and you can't even wash up properly."

He released one hand and picked up a fork inspecting it.

"Barely clean.  Are you trying to make us all dirty, like you?"

I said nothing.  He pulled me around and pressed the fork against my neck.  I let out a yelp.  He looked at me with disgust.

"Pussy.  Get out, go on.  Out of my house.  Now."

He pulled me away from the sink and towards the kitchen door.  He yanked it open and pushed me out.  I fell over the lip of the door and thumped onto the cement floor.  I felt the side of my face scrape along the floor, the skin breaking.  I touched my hand to my jaw, and saw blood.

"Get on your feet," he yelled from his high position at the kitchen door.   I scrambled up. "You stay out here until I decide you can come back into my house.  Don't go anywhere – if you've moved there will be hell."

He slammed the door shut.

An hour passed.   After a ten minute downpour, the weather had persisted with drizzle.  My clothes were soaked through.  I felt myself begin to shiver as the sky began to darken.  I was standing in the driveway that separated our house from that of the neighbours.  Our garages were separate to the houses, but attached to each other.  The door to number 51 opened and Mrs Davies came out, a bag of rubbish in her hand.  I watched her walk up to the curb and put her rubbish in the black bin.  I turned my face to our house, hoping she wouldn't pay much attention to me.  I didn't want her to see the graze on my face.

"Evening Jacob," she called.

I turned the good side of my face to her.

"Goodnight Mrs Davies."  I turned my face away hurriedly.

"Oh, have you forgotten your key?  Is no one home?" I could hear her approaching. "You must be soaked through, why don't you come inside with us until your parents get home?"

She was in front of me now and I had no choice but to look at her for a moment.

"I'm okay thanks.  I'll go in soon," I said and flashed what I hoped was a confident smile at her.

"What happened to your face?" she exclaimed.

"Oh, I tripped and fell onto the concrete," I said quietly finding something on the floor to stare at.