Page 2 of Linebacker
That all changed the day she died, or should I say, the day she left, according to my father’s side of the story. But I know the truth. I heard every forceful pounding of his fists that connected with my mum’s tiny frame. I felt it mentally, along with the pain of not being able to stop or take them from her. I would have gladly been his punchbag on that day if I could have saved her, but I was trapped, locked in my room, unable to get free.
After removing the dark kohl from around my green oval eyes and the deep purple tint from my plump lips, I gather my long, naturally wavy dark hair and tie it back into a conservative ponytail. Last of all I detach the fake rings from my nose and bottom lip and place them in the inner pocket of the bag.
My reflection no longer shows my true inner identity.
I shake away the haunting memories from my bones and force myself to take on a lighter mood. With upturned lips, I swing my backpack over my shoulder and grab the holdall from the floor.
I find Windy, the manager, in her office. Her real name is Gail, but she hates it, so at a young age it was switched to Windy for obvious reasons and it has stuck.
“Hey, how was school today?” she asks as I stash the holdall in the back of the room where she lets me keep it. “Any trouble from the FUB’s today?”
My tormentors, Bell, Mars, Smithy, Cocker and a few of the other football team, had been given that collective name by Windy after the first time she found me a blubbering mess in the Coffee shop bathroom. ‘Fucking uneducated ball bags’ was the term she used after I had relayed to her how they had cornered me at school. They had spouted how I was a weird, sad little bitch, with my blacked-up eyes, saying I looked like a corpse in my charity shop rejects. They were cruel, and it had been going on for weeks. The snide remarks when I passed them in the hallway. The accidental pushing and shoving. Accidental my arse. What had started off as just an occasional comment had built up into relentless persecution.
Most of the time, I would ignore them, turn my back and walk away. But on that day, I’d had enough. Bell-end had snatched my bag, pulled out the contents and scattered them across the tiled floor of the hallway. He had then taken great pleasure in ridiculing me over the dress that was stashed in there, that I would need to change into before I got home. Two of them had held me still while he had forced it over my clothing. My chest had heaved with emotion, black tracks of tears had run down my face as he had dragged me up and down the corridor so that everyone could enjoy my embarrassment.
I was broken, ridiculed and a blubbering mess, but when he sniggered at the top of his voice so that everyone could hear. “Look at the state of you. No wonder your mum left you.”
I exploded.
Bell didn’t see it coming. I launched myself at him, my inner banshee coming to life. My fingernails were short because that’s how my father insisted I kept them, but it didn’t stop me from embedding them into his skin as I clamped my hands into each side of his face and smashed my forehead against his nose. Claret poured from his now misshapen nose; red beads of blood bloomed from where my nails had pierced his skin.
I’d drawn blood, and it felt fucking good.
Gripping my upper arms, he pushed me away, but I made him regret it. It gave me clear access to his dick, so I brought up my knee and slammed it right between his legs. His hands released me and went straight to his groin, then he hit the floor like the sack of shit that he is. It was at that point that his merry gang of arseholes came to their quarterback’s aid, pulling me off of him as I went in with the boot. A teacher appeared before they got a chance to react further, giving me the perfect opportunity to escape.
Since that day, Windy had insisted I come here before and after school so that I can change from the god-awful clothing and into something that reflected my true self and not the image that my father wanted me to be. Windy’s coffee shop had always been a favourite of Mums. She would bring me here for treats like chocolate milkshakes and double caramel brownies, which I would devour while she took her fill of double shot espresso. Whenever I get a waft of the strong aromatic drink, it prompts memories of her and how she would close her eyes and inhale the aroma before taking the first sip.
Windy had been one of the few people that had been a friend to my mum and this place has always felt like a safe haven. So, it was only natural after Mum’s departure that I would gravitate here when I needed a place to go. I don’t think that my mum ever spoke to Windy about Fathers’ restraints and control over her, but from the way Windy looked and acted around her, yet never condescending, I’m sure that she had her suspicions.
“Today was a good day,” I respond with a dark undertone to my voice. It immediately has her dropping her pen as she spins her seat in my direction. Her eyebrows rise and hide under her thick, dark brown fringe that’s as sharp as the shoulder length, poker-straight bobbed wig she wears today. Her inquisitive dark eyes focus on my face, noticing the smirk that I can’t suppress from my lips.
“What have you done, girl?” she chuckles, with a wave of her hand. The purple and silver colour of her nails flashes and catches my eye.
“A little payback,” I reply smugly. “But don’t worry, I made sure that I covered my tracks. Nice nails, by the way.”
“I hope so, because your papa will go crazy if you get in trouble at school and you know I hate how he gets with you.” She pushes the air out of her mouth through her teeth and hisses. “You know how much I’d love to go around there and kick his fake, righteous ass.”
“But you also know that would make things worse. He’d take away my free time, which I only get because he thinks that I’m studying in the library and it benefits my education.”
“I know, Sugar, but I hate that you have to stay under the same roof as that monster,” she sighs out.
“Not for much longer.” School’s almost over, and once it is, that’s when I’ll plan my escape from him and his oppressive control.
CHAPTER3
As I walk out of the room where I’ve just completed my very last exam, the sense of elation that washes over me has me grinning like a fictional cat. I can’t help it. I can almost smell freedom and my mind becomes flooded with my getaway plan. As I make my way down the hallway, my head down so that I don’t come across as borderline crazy, I pause when I hit a wall of hard muscle.
An ‘Umph’ noise bursts from my lips as all the air gets knocked from my lungs. I gasp for breath before mumbling out, “I’m so sorry.” When the owner of the broad shoulders and toned back turns to face me, I see it is no other than Vance Marshall. “Oh, fuck.”
Our eyes connect. The grey of his iris is flecked with brown and gold and the way they seem to flicker under the fluorescent lights is like peering into the universe. Mars takes a dramatic step back. His gaze burns into mine, his facial expression is of total disgust and annoyance from having touched me. Yet, he doesn’t say a word, just glares at me, which kind of speaks volumes. It’s enough to have me taking a few steps back myself, but Bell quickly fills the space as he pushes in between us.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” he smirks down at me. As I’m only five feet three, it’s not like I’m not used to people looking down on me. But this dick makes me feel like I’m dirt on his obnoxious, puke-green Nike’s. “In a rush to get out of here, are we?” He sniggers. “Anyone would think that you were trying to avoid us.”
I sidestep to go around him, only for him to mirror my action and block my way.
“What’s the hurry, ‘Hopeless’?” he fake smiles, using his favoured name for me.
I sidestep again, only this time it brings me nearer to the wall and when he copies me, he slams his hand against it. I sense rather than see someone move behind me, but I’m pretty sure because of the shadow that he’s causing across Bell, it’s Mars. I have nowhere to go now that I’m boxed in.
