The Sacrifices of Life

by Humphreys, K. L.

  The Sacrifices of Life

  K. L. Humphreys

  Contents

  Title Page

  Other books by K.L. Humphreys

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Keep up to date

  Acknowledgments

  The Sacrifices of Life

  Book 3 of The Working Girls Series

  By K.L. Humphreys

  The Sacrifices of Life

  Text Copyright © K L Humphreys

  All rights reserved.

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  Cover Design by Lee Ching of Undercover Designs.

  Formatter Rachael Tonks of Affordable Formatting.

  Editing by Kay Springsteen Tate of Word Whisperer.

  Proofread by Gemma Woolley of Gem’s Precise Proofreads.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without the prior written permission of the author. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Other books by K.L. Humphreys

  The Deadly Series:

  Deadly Hunt

  Deadly Obsession

  Deadly Past

  Deadly Encounter

  Deadly Mistake

  The Working Girls Series:

  The Secrets of Life

  The Scandals of Life

  Standalones:

  Finding Home

  Co-writes:

  The Hitman Series with Pavan Kaur

  Bounty

  Captured

  One Night - with Rachel M Storm

  “Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.”

  – Maya Angelou

  To my Nan,

  Nobody told us how hard it would be without you. Each and every one of us feel your loss. Sometimes it doesn’t seem real, I don’t think it has fully sunk in that we’re never going to see you again. We’re grateful for the times that we spent together, for the love we have for you that still runs deep. It hurts that you and my daughter never met, but she will know about you and how amazing you were. I know that you’re looking down on us all, watching over us.

  Until we meet again, I love you.

  Prologue

  Lying in bed, I can hear the yelling. God, no matter what’s said, Mickey will never learn. I’m so mad at him. He went and joined the NDZ Crew. He joined a bloody gang. Mum and Dad are livid and question him every time he tries to leave the house. He’s in the gang for life; there’s only one way out. Death.

  We’re all worried sick; we’ve heard the stories of what can happen to boys in gangs. The stabbings, shootings, and beatings. You name it, they do it. I don’t even want to know what Mickey did to join that fucking gang. Most gangs have some sort of initiation to join, and with the NDZ Crew being one of the more dangerous gangs in North London, they no doubt have an initiation to make sure they’re not infiltrated. We live in South Woodford, which is North East London, but it’s still North London. Sometimes I wish we lived in the middle of nowhere, and then the worry of what Mickey would be up to wouldn’t be there. Then again, it’s Mickey, he’d find trouble.

  “Yo, Katy,” Mickey calls.

  What does he want, and how the hell did he manage to escape the barrage of questions from Mum and Dad?

  “Yeah?” I shout back, and the bed dips as I get up from it.

  “You going out tonight?”

  “I don’t know… why?” I’m cautious; he never usually asks if I’m going out. He’s up to something, and now I’m second-guessing if I should go out. Maybe I should stay close to him to make sure he’s okay.

  “I was just wondering… God, you’re as bad as them.” He sucks his teeth, and I roll my eyes. That’s his go-to move when he’s mad, and I hate that bloody noise.

  “No, I’m not, don’t say that!”

  Our parents are strict. While I was at school I wasn’t allowed out—ever. My friends would go out shopping and have fun, and I had to stay at home. Mum would always say ‘It’s not safe for young girls to be traipsing around London.’ I hated her every time she would say it; I thought she was ruining my life. I hate that now that Mickey’s at school, he’s allowed to do whatever the hell he likes. Double standard at its finest.

  Pulling open my door, I see Mickey leaning against the wall, a smirk firmly in place. “I know, but it got you out here, didn’t it?”

  I raise my eyebrows, he’s in a good mood. “You sure you’re not going out?”

  I’m on edge, narrowing my eyes at him, but that just makes him smile.

  “What are you up to?” I ask cautiously.

  Holding his hands up in surrender, he says, “Me? Nothing, can’t I ask what my sister’s doing on a Friday night? You’re nineteen Katy. You should be out living it up. All you do is work. Think about it, yeah? If you’re coming out, text me.” He leans in and kisses my cheek. This is the Mickey that I know and love. Underneath the gangster wannabe facade, is my sweet, caring brother, who would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it.

  “I’ll think about it. Be safe, okay?” I say the same thing every time he leaves the house.

  “Always.” He winks as he walks down the hall. As I watch his retreating back, worry is set deep in my stomach. I have a horrible feeling all of a sudden, and I want to tell him not to go, but I know that he’ll never listen. Hearing the front door close makes my heart race and my hands sweaty.

  I’m so scared. Maybe I should go out and keep an eye on him. He’d hate me if he realised what I was doing. I have no idea what to do.

  I’m awoken by shrieking. What the hell is that? My eyes open as I hear it again. Goosebumps raise throughout my body. I turn to look at my phone; it’s 04:07 a.m. I see that Mickey called at one a.m., and I missed it. My stomach drops. Why was he calling me at that time when he should have been home? I jump out of bed and scramble towards my bedroom door when a wail chills my bones, it’s something I’ll never forget.

  “My baby! Oh, my boy. Nooooooo…” My breath leaves me in a whoosh as that voice hits me. It’s my mum. Her boy? Where’s Mickey?

  I rush into the sitting room, praying that I heard wrong. The wailing is getting louder, but it’s not coming from inside our flat. It’s coming from outside. I don’t think, I only know that I need to be outside, I have to get to Mum, to find out what the hell is going on. I race from my room, no shoes on, just my pyjama shorts and a vest top. Mum’s screams grow louder and more harrowing as I rush down the stairs. My heart is racing, and dread fills the pit of my stomach as I come out into the street. “No, princess, you can’t see this. I don’t want you to see this.” Dad’s deep voice sounds weird, kind of strangled like someone is choking him, but I don’t pay much attention.

 
My eyes are on my mum, she’s awkwardly lying over someone, I focus on them as my eyes adjust to the lights. There are loads of people out here watching but no one’s helping. A puddle of liquid shines dark beneath the streetlamps and I instantly know that it’s blood. My mum’s clutching at the body that’s lying so still, it’s not moved at all since I’ve come downstairs. Her sobs get louder as she repeats the words ‘no, my baby.’

  I shake my head. It can’t be. It’s not Mickey, it’s not. It can’t be my brother. No, it’s not, they’re mistaken, they have to be. I take a step back and that’s when I see Dad’s tears, those tears tell me that it’s true. It is Mickey lying there.

  “Dad, no, please,” I beg, tears cascading down my face.

  “Princess.” His voice cracks. “Mickey’s been stabbed. We’re waiting on the ambulance.”

  I nod, that’s okay. “I’m going to wait with him until the ambulance comes. Okay?” I wipe away my tears. He’s not dead, he’s just hurt. He’ll be telling me he’s a hard man tomorrow, and I’ll laugh at him.

  “No, Katy, he’s gone,” whispers Dad.

  I shake my head at his words. No, I won’t believe him, Mickey’s not gone. He can’t be.

  “Baby, he’s gone.”

  My knees buckle beneath me, and I hit the ground with a jarring thud. Not my brother. I need him. He’s too young to go. I cry, my sobs mixing with my mum’s wails. We’ve lost the joy we had in our family, we’ve lost the light.

  Chapter One

  Twenty-Three Days Later

  Numbness, that’s all I feel. How else are you to feel when you’re about to go to your brother’s funeral? We had to wait for the coroner to release the body, the police are still investigating Mickey’s death. They haven’t found out who killed him yet; they have no leads whatsoever. I’m about to bury my brother and leave him alone in the cold dark ground. He’s gone, and he’s never coming back, and I have to live with that feeling every day for the rest of my life. Waking up every morning, there’s a moment, a tiny moment when I think everything’s okay, and then I hear the silence, or I hear the sobbing and it’s like a switch goes off inside of me. Everything comes flooding back: the pain, the heartbreak, the anger. They’re all there in full force. Listening to that voicemail that Mickey left me kills me every time, but yet I can’t stop playing it back, I can’t stop listening to it.

  “Katy….” He’s breathing hard but I can hear that he has that cheeky smile on his face, I can just picture him saying my name. “I love you sis, you’re the best person I know. Without you I wouldn’t be who I am today. Anyone who asks me who my best friend is, I always lie. They’d think I’m weird if I told them my best friend was my sister.”

  Christmas Day has come and gone, it was the worst Christmas ever. Mum didn’t come out of her bedroom, and Dad wasn’t there. I spent the day in Mickey’s room, lying on his bed and reminiscing about previous Christmases. The new pyjamas we’d get, how we’d wake up and they would be in the present at the end of the bed waiting for us. We’d rip open the wrapping paper and quickly change into the new pyjamas so that we could run into the sitting room and see what else we’d gotten. There was none of that this year; I don’t even think I ate anything. Before, Mum and Dad would spend hours cooking as Mickey and I would settle on the sofa and watch Harry Potter and Top of the Pops. This Christmas was the worst that there has ever been.

  Standing outside the church, I’m greeted by people I don’t even know or haven’t seen for years. Each one of them expressed their sincerest apologies, yet each of them believes that he was at fault for what happened, that he should have known better. He joined a gang, what did he expect was going to happen? I’ve heard them whispering about it, such gossips. They don’t care about us; they’re here to see if there will be any drama. Standing here in my black maxi dress, I’m regretting not wearing a cardigan or jacket. I didn’t think, I just left the house without grabbing it from the sofa.

  “Katy.” A sad, whispery voice makes me turn around. Her arms are wide open, waiting for me to walk into them. My best friend Molly. I really didn’t think she’d be here; she’s living in Manchester at uni.

  “I didn’t think you could make it.” I sob against her shoulder as she holds me close. “Thank you, I really needed someone today.” I tell her honestly. Mum and Dad haven’t been present in my life since Mickey died. Hell, they’re no longer together, Dad moved out, and Mum doesn’t talk. Today however, they’re clinging onto one another as if they’re each other’s lifelines.

  “You’re my best friend, Katy. Where else am I going to be when you need me the most? Mickey was like my brother too. There’s nowhere else I’d be today,” she whispers, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.

  “I know. You’re the best, Mol. I really don’t think I can do this right now. It’s too much.” A sob slips out. Just thinking about what’s to come today makes me want to run away, go somewhere that is anywhere but here. Feel anything but heartache and pain. Get away from the fake expressions of sympathy, and everyone who is only here to gossip and see if what they’ve heard is true.

  “Katy?” My father calls from behind me. It’s funny, since that night Mickey died, this is the first time he’s actually spoken to me.

  Turning to look at him, I give him a cold, blank stare, and he flinches, but I don’t have it in me right now to care. After all, he doesn’t care about me. When Mickey died, I lost my entire family. I’ve been alone, I’m not coping. How the hell do you cope with something like this?

  “Yeah?” My voice comes out as cold as the look I just gave him.

  “We’ll be going into the church soon; the hearse will be arriving any minute now.” His voice cracking on the word ‘now’. My instincts tell me to go to him, give him a hug. But before I get a chance to move, he turns and walks back towards Mum.

  I’m so mad. Does he not realise that I’m hurting too? I lost him too! A shiver runs through me and I don’t know what causes it, but it gets my attention. As I turn around, my legs buckle beneath me. The only reason I’m still standing is because of Molly; she’s holding me up as the hearse comes around the corner and comes to a stop outside of the church. The word ‘Brother’ in white flowers with red ribbon outlining them comes into view and takes my breath away. They’re at the side of the hearse, I bought them hoping they’d help, that Mickey would somehow see them but looking at them now I hate them, I hate what they represent.

  As the funeral director takes Mickey’s coffin out of the hearse I sob my heart out. Molly’s still holding onto me, I want to run and hold onto the casket, not wanting him to leave, not wanting to go through this service knowing that as soon as it is finished, he’ll be buried. That’s something I can’t deal with, I can’t watch that happen. He doesn’t deserve to be in the ground. He should be here right now celebrating life, having fun and just being a teenager.

  “Katy let’s get you inside and seated. You’re freezing.” Molly begins to rub my bare arms. I can’t move, I don’t want to move, my feet are glued to the ground. “I’m going to be with you every step of the way.” she promises me as she guides me towards the church entrance.

  As soon as I enter the church, I feel eyes on me. Everyone is staring, and I hate it. I don’t want everyone here; I just want it to be family, only those that loved Mickey. As I walk farther down the aisle my eyes glance to the left where the fucking NDZ Crew are sitting, each of them in their hoodies and stupid baseball caps. My stomach twists tighter as my teeth clench. They shouldn’t be here, they don’t belong here, they’re the reason Mickey’s dead. I stand up taller, squaring my shoulders as I turn my face away from those bastards and make my way to my seat. I sit in the front of the church, Molly sitting next to me as Mum and Dad come and take their seats beside us. Wearing a solemn expression, the priest takes centre stage and starts the service.

  I don’t even know what the priest’s saying, I can’t take my eyes off the coffin. My numbness is wearing off, and the pain is coming through. Tears fall
thick and fast but there’s nothing I can do to stop them. I don’t want them to stop. I want to feel the pain. I’ve lost my brother. An emptiness has formed inside me that is never going to be filled. A loss I know I will never get over; I don’t want to get over it.

  I just wish that I had some support from my parents. I don’t know how long the service goes on for, I just sit in silence, my eyes firmly on Mickey’s casket, but when Molly reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze I look up and see that Mum and Dad are standing, ready to leave.

  My mouth feels like cardboard, it’s that dry. My hands are freezing as is the rest of my body. Molly is still right beside me as we make our way out of the pew. I’m so grateful that she’s here, so grateful to have her to lean on. I’m lucky to have her as my best friend.

  Once we’re outside the church, it’s a waiting game again. We have to wait for the funeral director to get ready and lead the procession to the cemetery. God, I can’t even say the last time I was even at the cemetery, probably for Nanna Monroe’s funeral, Mum’s mum. That was about ten years ago. I hate cemeteries, they’re so final and it means that we’ve said goodbye. Just the thought of saying goodbye to Mickey for the final time is making me feel sick. Bile rises in my throat, and I swallow it back down. It leaves a burning sensation behind.