Page 35 of Fe
“I’m not leaving you.”
Fen didn’t want to be fussed over. “Really, I’m all right. Go and read your case notes.”
“I’ll give you a call. I’m in court all week, away in Leeds for two days, but a meal on Friday? Are you sure you’re all right?”
Fen nodded. Ripley brushed his fingers over Fen’s lips. “I’ll go when your door’s locked.”
Fen went inside and closed the door. He leaned back against it with his heart hammering. This wasn’t the way he’d expected the evening to end.
He slowly climbed the stairs to his room. He’d told Ripley he was fine, but he wasn’t. His entire body hurt. Fen had dealt with his fair share of bullying but he’d never had anything like that happen, not a physical attack. But then, they hadn’t been trying to rob him but Ripley.And I started it.He slumped on his bed.It was all my fault.
His phone pinged with a message. Ripley.
Are you okay?
Yes. Door locked.
I’ll text you when I get back. If anything worries you, call the police.
I will.
When Fen took off his clothes to get ready for bed, he could see bruises already starting to bloom, a side effect of corticosteroids. Was Ripley bruised too? Maybe Ripley would have preferred to hand over his phone, wallet and watch. Fen suspected not and he didn’t like to think Ripley would have done that just to protect him. Fen had never shied away from bullies. Once you allowed them power over you, it was much harder to get rid of them. So he’d not handed over money or his phone or done homework for any of those who’d tormented him. Once he’d left school, he’d thought the harassment would stop, but sometimes little arseholes grow up to be bigger arseholes.
A clatter made him sit upright.What the hell was that?When there was a muffled thud and a laugh, Fen went over to the window and peered through the side of the curtain. He could see several figures on the pavement below. One had pulled a bag of rubbish from the litter bin. Another launched a kick at his front door and Fen flinched.
He shuffled to the door of his room, checked it was locked and pushed a chair under the handle. He could hear something happening on the stairs, but he couldn’t believe they’d managed to get in. Should he ring the police? He went back to the curtain and looked again. It was a group of four guys and the woman he’d banged into, and they were making a lot of noise and staggering around on the pavement.
“Get it in there,” the woman shouted. “Shove it in.”
“Fancy a Maccy D?” another called out. “BBQ sauce? Like fries with that?”
There was more laughter.
Fen had a horrible feeling he knew what they were doing. He shifted the chair, unlocked his door and peered down into the stairwell. The motion-activated light came on and he winced when he saw the rubbish piled up on the mat. They were still pushing it through the letterbox and he had no way of stopping them. If he called the police, they’d disappear and if they were caught, it would be Fen who’d pay the price. The best he could hope for was that they got fed up and went home.
He went back into his room, took a black bin liner from a kitchen drawer and some rubber gloves, then went to sit at the top of the stairs. Was there a way he could block the letterbox? He had duct tape, though he did still get some letters. He went to get tape and scissors.
What turned out to be the final delivery was a stream of urine.Oh fuck.Fen went back for a cleaning spray and kitchen roll. He waited until he was sure nothing more was going to be done, then made his way down the stairs. The smell was awful. He could see a baby’s nappy and dog poo bags. At least they hadn’t ripped those open. Fen put all the rubbish in the bin liner, along with the urine-soaked doormat. He sprayed cleaning fluid over the floor, walls and door, and wiped everything down. The last thing he did was firmly tape up the letterbox in all directions.
He took the bag out through the fire exit, setting it on the latch, so it didn’t close and lock him out, and tossed the bag into the bin. When he was finally back in bed, he was bone-tired. He felt weak, pathetic and exhausted. Usually, there was something about the end of the day that Fen loved, but he was struggling to feel anything positive right then. Instead, as often happened when he was overtired, his mind slid onto a path guaranteed to make him low. His muscular dystrophy. He was fed up of having to be careful. All the things he’d once thought he’d be able to try had disappeared from life’s menu. No surfing, cycling, skating, climbing mountains. He wasn’t even capable of running. Everything wasno.
Fen took a deep breath. He was spiralling into misery and it had to stop right now. His phone pinged and he jumped. Fen pulled it into bed with him. Ripleyagain.He took a deep breath before he looked at the message.
Still okay? I should have stayed. I wish I had.
I’m fine. Thank you.
No, thank you, ninja warrior.
Fen smiled.Wish the crutch had been a lightsaber.
So do I. But ouch. Night, Fen. Sleep tight. See you Friday.
Night.
Should he put something else?
Sorry you didn’t get something nice.
