The Corruption of Innocence

Chapter 8

Jack jumped as his bedroom door opened. His father walked in, shutting it behind him. The boy swiftly sat up, slamming his book shut.

"What are you reading?"

"Jane Eyre." His dad snorted.

"You couldn't read that."

Jack swallowed and said nothing. Oliver Edgar pursed his lips.

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine," his son said finally, trying to look more attentive. "What is it?"

"Your mother and I were talking about getting you earning some money."

"Right."

"So, this is what is going to happen. I have a friend who lives in a house on East Street."

"The posh estate?" Jack asked, ears pricking.

"Don't interrupt me when I'm speaking," Oliver warned. "Your mouth is far too big for your face." He paused, and then smiled almost maliciously, causing Jack's muscles to tighten and the hairs on his arms to stand. Shivering, Jack looked down and Oliver moved forward.

"Look at me when I'm speaking, Jack. Where the hell are your manners?"

The man slowly strode towards Jack, who had shrunk to half his normal size. Kneeling in front of his son, Oliver took Jack's chin in his hand and lifted his head, so Jack had no choice but to look his father in the eye.

"What?" the squeaky voice asked, the sound of rattling breath entering Oliver's ears. At the recognition of this sound, Oliver shivered. He looked to the door, and back at Jack, who shook his head very slightly. "Please, dad. Don't. Alice is next door."

Eyes sliding to the wall, Oliver tutted as the noise of Alice humming travelled into the room. Looking back to Jack, Oliver tilted his head and began running his hand across Jack's cheek. For a father and son, the intimacy would not be unusual, but it made Jack, who craved love and attention, feel sick.

"What did you want to tell me?" he stuttered, hand restless on his lap, desiring to grab Oliver's hand and pull it away. He did not need to though, because his father removed his hand from Jack's cheek with a fire raging in his eyes.

"From now on, every three days, you will get your lazy ass over to number 23 East Street and spend the afternoon up in the chimney cleaning it out, like normal boys your age do."

He longed with all his heart to protest, but Jack knew he would be putting himself in grave danger if he did. Instead he nodded, pressing his lips together. His father stood up, and Jack let out a long breath.

"Your work starts tomorrow. I want you out of the house at 1 o clock and I'll come and pick you up at 7pm."

6 hours. Jack couldn't believe it. He knew, though, that he had no choice.

As his father moved towards the door, Jack plucked up the courage, and perhaps the nerve, to ask his dad a question.

"How much will I get paid?"

The decision was regretted as Oliver paused and slowly turned around, making Jack shrink back.

"You haven't half got nerve, boy," Oliver snarled.

"But you said I'd earn the money. I just wanted to know how much." Oliver licked his lips.

"£1 an hour."

"£6?" Jack asked, sitting up like a meerkat. Oliver nodded.

"Does that make you happy?"

"Yes. Will I be able to spend it all?"