The
large steel door creaked and slammed shut as Adam climbed the last few steps to
the roof. As he shuffled towards the railings the bitterly cold chill cut its
way through his clothing. Heavy frost clung to every surface; only solitary thawed
drops were allowed to escape. Adam shivered as one found its path through his
layers to warm skin….hanging his head, he sighed. Beneath him, frosted crystals shone with an orange
aura, twinkling in the streetlights. It looked like glitter. He thought of a
Christmas card that once stood on the mantle…he sighed again. On the floor by the railings Adam spotted a
small coin nestled in bed of frosted needles. He picked it up and looked at it.
Lifting his head he gazed at his view; there was a calm warmth about it, all golden
and at rest. For a while he stood completely motionless, the only movement
being a tuft of his coal black hair twitching in the breeze…
‘Why
are you sighing? You sad piece of shit! I suppose you think that by hanging
your head down being miserable, that no one notices you. But they do
notice…because you smell and you’re filthy. They notice because they know what
you did!’
Looking over the edge, Adam noticed
how close the ground seemed. He stroked the face on the coin.
‘Yeah go on flip it, heads you don’t,
tails you do, at least then you’ll feel like you've got some fucking control…ha
ha ha’
Heads
Adam
tried to ignore the irritating verbal in his head. The voice pierced through
his every waking thought. It dug deep into his dreams when he slept, if he slept.
It had been his constant companion for the last few weeks and Adam was drained!
His clothes were torn and filthy. Faded jeans covered thin white legs; a black
t-shirt clung to his skinny torso. The hooded sweatshirt he wore as a jacket
was as waterproof as a paper bag and not much warmer. The sleeves hid the
intimacy he’d had with a razor once. His face was tear-stained from bloodshot
eyes. The grime of the streets was five years thick and home was a corner of
the roof-space. He had reached that place
in the dark where there were no more lights. Trying to control his thoughts
Adam started to hum his favorite song…the verbal piped up again…
‘Humming? Seriously! Do you
actually think that will shut me up, drown me out? What a waste of space you
are. I suppose you think you can sing? You know what will shut me up’
Tails
The
wind was picking up a little, a layer of snow thick enough for a covering had settled
while he’d been stood there. The town below echoed that on the Christmas card,
all peaceful and calm. Closing his eyes, he remembered, snow angels, ice-dens
and icicles as ‘long as your arm’ and how the snow suffocated all that lay
beneath it…he dropped his head again and sighed.
‘Oh there you go being all
sentimental…you stupid prick! Bloody snow-angels… what a joke!!...I remember
you as a boy!!! Pathetic little git who wet himself all the time…Smelly
Wiggins… yeah that’s what they called you…’
Heads
Adam
thought back to his childhood. Verbal was right! The local kids were cruel,
most kids are. They didn't know what kind of life he was living. They didn’t
see what he saw. To them he was just a tatty kid. Deprived of the things that
make children smile; toys, sweets, holidays, clothes, shoes, food and love.
There
was a happier time, him and mum had just moved into the town and he was
starting a new school. The house was clean, mum was clean; he was clean. Then
the dickhead came, then Sally came, then..., Adam signed again. From that
moment all memories of being happy always included Sally.
‘What’s that? You happy! When? Never…
that’s when!! As long as I've known you ain't ever been happy…you’re just a sad
little prick. Ah yes Sally! Pretty little thing, you two were close. She idolized you, shame! She knows what you did.
Can you live with that...now you’re all alone?’
Tails
The
crap wasn't obvious at first, the odd shouting spat and a broken window or two.
Things were ok. It was around the time Sally started walking that it changed.
The drink, the names, the shouts, the slaps, pushes, punches, tears and pain
all rained down on three of them. The dickhead would always be bringing boxes
of stolen stuff home. Mum would always be making herself look beautiful just so
he could call her a slag and then after it would be him, Adam, holding her
while she’d cried. He remembered the first time his mum scarred her skin. The
first time he saw her with a black eye and the first time he felt the same. He
stopped going to school. He stayed at home, helped look after Sally, while mum
slept off the drunken abuse from the night before. Adam remembered that Christmas…the last one at
home …
‘Yeah
Christmas, what started that fight? You know…that fight!!! That moment! What
was it that pushed that button? You know they will find him…you didn't hide the
body right, cause you’re a fucking idiot. Five years of weather will reveal
it…then they will find you’
Tails
Closing
his eyes again Adam pictured the knife, upright in the body on the living room
floor. Christmas was trashed but the presents remained wrapped. Mum had run out
with Sally when the fight began. When they returned, both men were gone. On
Boxing Day when Adam came back, his mum went for him. Slapping his face while she
screamed, she believed the dickhead had just left her and it was his fault. For
all his pleading no amount of truth broke through the beaten down woman’s head.
Without a goodbye, Adam left…
‘She never believed you. She blamed
you!!! She just thinks he left, what if she knew the truth, maybe she does
know! You never even said goodbye to Sally…bet she hates you now. What would
she say if she saw you, you sad bleeding twat…she’s better off without you!’
Tails
Adjusting
his grip, Adam felt the metal frozen to his skin…a gentle pull and the fresh
breeze cut though the new reddened sore on his palm.
‘Oh now look what you've done you
stupid git. Fucking freeze burn. Go on! I see you looking…thinking that will
shut me up…go on!!.........let go…
Tails
Verbal’s
tone had taken a lower sinister feel to it…like a razor sharp whisper. Adam
opened his eyes and looked down. There were lights now coming from a small café
a short distance away. He could smell coffee and bacon. Smoke and steam were
illuminated by the coldness in the air. The day was awakening and Adam knew it
was time to move on.
****************************
Sticking
her nose over the polystyrene cup, Sally inhaled the aroma of her hot coffee.
Sitting on the wide window ledge she leaned back and glanced up at the falling
snow. She smiled remembering when she was little. The ice dens in the garden,
games invented by Adam to hide from the bad stuff indoors. They made snow
angels, his little angel Adam would say. For as far back as she could remember
it was always her and Adam. Mum was asleep a lot during the day and the waste
of space she shacked up with walked through them like they didn't exist…until
that Christmas…
Adam
had been a memory for years; her social worker said that he’d gone off the
radar…whatever that meant? She knew she missed him. Even more on days like
this. She wasn't angry anymore that he’d left, she just thought of him often.
It had been rough. Mum left leaving Sally behind, she was sixteen; it turned
out to be a blessing. With Adams help Sally had grown up savvy, she was smart,
a hard worker. This knowledge had served her well…
Sally
loved town on mornings like this. She glanced down the road. The soft white
blanket wrapped itself over the ground, hiding the gloomy littered speckled
streets. The rain that fell the day before had frozen overnight and glistening
shards hugged to every surface. A golden glow added a fire like heat. There was
a peace that only a select group of eyes saw. Sally was one of the lucky ones. The
first of the days transport were leaving tracks in the fresh virgin snow. The small
café on the corner had just opened. Familiar faces greeted her as she smiled a
‘hi’ at them. Every morning Sally brought her coffee here. Every morning she
saw the same people. Every morning she sat on the same ledge and every morning
was the same…until…
Sally
looked at the small coin nestling on a bed of frosted needles; she looked up to
see a face looking back.
‘What
is it?’ a voice called.
‘Heads’
Sally replied.
©Mills Laine
©Mills Laine
