by Matt Shaw
“Wish I could.” It would certainly be easier but the only way I’ll be able to turn off is when I am dead. Something I am still too chicken to see through. I hesitated a moment and decided to push her further, “What if we weren’t really family?”
Sister moved away from me as she sat up. She looked shocked that I’d even asked the question. “What?”
“You don’t remember me and I don’t remember you - not from before we all woke up together…”
“Because of the blast…Father said…”
“I know what Father said but what if he was wrong? What if we weren’t family?” I continued tentatively.
“We are. There was a picture. How else would we have all been in the picture together?” she asked. I had an answer for her; the picture was faked. I didn’t tell her though. I didn’t push it further. I just went quiet. “Are you okay?” she asked. Another flash of concern on her face. I nodded. “You’re being weird.”
“I’m sorry. Just hungry.” I pulled her close to my chest again. Not because I necessarily wanted to hold her close, I just wanted to stop her looking at me with those eyes for fear of seeing straight through me.
With no warning the door opened and Mother walked in. She was grinning from ear to ear. “Quick! Come through!” she disappeared again, expecting us to follow. Sister was first up and seemed to be just as excited as Mother. I didn’t feel the same joyous excitement rushing through my body as they seemed to. I felt nervous. No doubt another ploy, by Father, to try and get us to leave the house. I know it is coming - the moment they discover the truth for themselves - I’m just not in a hurry for it to happen.
Father was waiting for us in the dining room. I stopped in the doorway when I saw what he was cuddling; a young cat (not quite a kitten) rubbing itself against his belly. “Shut the door!” he ordered us - no doubt worried that the cat might make a sudden run for it. It was purring as though happy to see us. I wondered whether it was a present from over the wall or whether it had lived over this side all of the time. “I was outside,” Father said, “looking around, trying to decide the best route we should take when we leave…”
“We agreed to stay,” I butted in.
Father shot me a look. He continued, “And this little guy came up to me. Started rubbing up against my leg…Friendly.” Father gave it a stroke. I looked at Sister’s face. She was grinning from ear to ear, just as Mother had been, but I know what’s coming. I know what Father is about to do and I’m amazed they can’t see it. I’m sure they think Father went out and came home with a new family pet. That’s not what he has done, though. He has no intention of keeping this thing as a pet. A thought went through my mind; is this someone’s pet already? I watched as Sister went over to the cat and started to stroke it. It responded, almost immediately, by purring loudly.
“I wonder what it’s name is,” Sister asked. I wanted to reach over to her and pull her away from what was coming but I wasn’t quick enough.
“Dinner!” Father laughed. He scooped the cat up, in his large arms, and twisted its head with a sharp yank and a loud crack. Sister screamed out in shock. I can’t believe, from all we have seen, that she hadn’t expected that. I didn’t move over to comfort her. Not with Father there. Father laughed again. “Want the honours?” he asked me. He held the lifeless corpse of the cat up to me. He meant for me to skin it - take away the fur so we could eat what was left behind. “Unless you want a little alone time with it first? Maybe give your sister a break from some of your sexual frustrations?” I shot Father a look but only because I couldn’t believe what a hypocrite he was being. I’d seen him, on the cameras, with both Mother and Sister. He was just as bad as me.
“Pass me the knife,” I said. He slid it across the table towards me. I picked it up and snatched the deceased cat away from him his other hand. The briefest of thoughts ran through my mind - stick the knife into him. End his miserable life right here, right now. The thought was fleeting. I turned to Sister, “You might want to leave the room,” I told her. She was still crying for the dead animal. She left the room, followed by Mother. Funny - the things we’ve done, the things we’ve seen since being in this house… Yet when it comes to an animal being harmed - that’s what sickens us.
Father stood up and walked over to me. He leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “Don’t worry, son, I’ll make sure they’re okay…” He moved back slightly and smiled at me. The thought of stabbing him ran through my mind once more. Even had I not been able to resist acting upon impulse, I didn’t get the chance to do so as he promptly left the room. Just me and the kitty. It was strange, I didn’t feel as guilty as this when I killed that man - the one who had come into the house originally. Always was an animal person - another personality trait which has come flooding back to me.
* * * * *
BEFORE
A Death in the Family
I was standing at the counter of the veterinary centre with tears running down my face. My dad was with me. He wasn’t crying. Not at the thought of the family pet being dead at least. He was more concerned about the bill and the various options the receptionist was running through with us for how they could dispose of our pet. It all seemed pointless, really. I knew what dad was going to choose. He was going to go for the cheapest option. He hated the pet when it was alive - having been forced to take it in after mum purchased it as a birthday present for me after the death of our last pet.
“And for that it will get its own crematorium. Its ashes will be placed into a small pine box for you to take away…”
I was looking at dad’s face. I could tell he desperately wanted to ask how much it would cost just to take the cat away in a bin bag. Hell - he’d probably want to ask if he could just leave it with them to get rid of; let them chuck it in the bin out back as soon as our car pulled out of the customer car park. Dad fired me a look when the receptionist told him the cost of the next option. I could read him like an open book. He expected me to pay for this. The cat was my birthday present and - therefore - it meant I should have inherited all associated costs with regards to looking after it (and getting rid of the damned thing). As it was - I couldn’t even afford to get myself to the vets without his help. No choice but to sell my car after more debts piled higher, crippling me more than ever.
“Or you can take Tinker away with you now,” the receptionist suggested. I guess she had finally cottoned on to the fact my dad wasn’t the most animal-friendly person.
Dad looked back to me again, “We can find a nice spot for him in the garden,” he suggested. I nodded because I didn’t want to cause a scene but inside I could not help but feel he was nothing more than a cheap bastard. He didn't want the pet in the garden, ruining any of his flower displays, but he wanted to spend additional money on him even less so. Saying we could bury the cat in the garden was just his way of saving face in front of the receptionist; his way of appearing more caring than he actually was. I knew the truth. Looking at the receptionist’s expression - I think she did too.
In the car dad showed his true intentions when he turned to me and said, “Compost heap or bin - your choice.” I didn’t answer him. I’d already made my mind up to wait for him to go away on one of his many business trips before I’d give Tinker the proper burial he deserved. “When do you get your next Jobseeker’s allowance?” he asked out of the blue.
“Friday.”
“So when can I expect to see some of the money back for this?” he asked.
* * * * *
NOW
Ninth Life Gone
I laid the cat on the dining room table and held the knife to its soft fur. Thoughts of my old pet running through my mind as I tried to prepare myself for what needed to be done. I guess I could have refused to do it but then it would have meant Father killed the cat for nothing. At least this way we can eat. I took a handful of fur in my hands and pulled it away from the flesh of the animal. A few deep breaths and I stuck the knife in.
CHAPTER THREE
NOW
End of the line
Sister was still visibly upset as we all sat around the dining room table. Pieces of cat still littered across the wooden top. Her feelings towards the animal did not stop her from having a taste though. The thoughts of the innocent animal killed for our benefit didn’t seem to have any impact on our desire to eat.
“I went up to the woods,” Father said. He licked his bloodied fingers. We all looked to Father, when he spoke. “You know what I heard? I mean other than the cat.” No one answered him. We knew we wouldn’t have long to wait for an answer. “I heard nothing.” He paused a moment. “You know what I saw?” Again, no one replied. “I saw nothing.” He picked another piece of meat up from his plate and shoved it in his mouth. We all watched him as he chewed it small enough to swallow. “Those things - those people…No sign of them…”
“It doesn’t mean they’re not there,” I told him.
“… They’ve gone,” he ignored me.
“Can’t be sure.”
“If we’re to leave the house,” he continued, “then now is the time.”
“This is stupid,” I said.
I knew from the first moment he mentioned leaving that we wouldn’t have a choice but to go with him. What Father wants, Father gets.
“As head of this family…”
Oh, how I wanted to shout out that we weren’t a family.
“… I’ve made the decision for us. We are leaving this house. We’re going to take the car you so kindly brought back for us,” his eyes fixed upon mine - unblinking, “and we’re going to drive and drive and fucking drive until we run out of petrol…”
Bloodied knife sitting on the side. Reach for it. Grab it. Stick it in his throat. Sit back down, piece of cat in mouth. Watch as Father gargles through spittles of blood. Watch as he face plants onto the table top. Applause from Sister and Mother for it is I who have set them free.
“What - nothing to say?” he asked (me in particular).
He followed my gaze towards the bloodied knife. Splatters of blood and clumps of fur lingering on the blade. I took my eyes from the blade and looked at Father, trying my hardest to hide the feeling of hatred I had for the man. He knew what I was thinking; both towards him and with regards to what I wanted to do with the knife.
“It’s not safe out there,” I said.
No sense putting forward more of an argument. I knew he had already made his mind up. We would be leaving the house. We would be leaving…
“… The sooner the better,” Father said. “We leave the sooner the better. Your Mother and I have already spoken and it has been agreed upon. Now you two have a choice. You’re both of an age where you can make your own minds up so… Up to you. You can come or you can stay.”
We sat there in silence. I wanted to let him leave. I wanted to let them both leave. The pair of them. Never see them again but the same can’t be said for Sister. A quick glance in her direction and it’s obvious she doesn’t want to lose who she believes to be her parents. I don’t want to lose Sister and - more than that - I can’t leave Mother and Father to their own devices out there. There are people who deserve to die but I can’t say for definite their (our) killing ways won’t spread to those who do not deserve die.
“We’re stronger if we stick together,” I said. It seemed like a good thing to say. Something he’d buy. Something he’d say himself had I not said it first. The look on his face suggested he was disappointed. Guess I was supposed to say I was happy to hang around here - by myself. Too bad. I’m not leaving him with Sister. And I’m not leaving any of them to stumble upon the truth without me to hang around doing damage control.
“That’s lovely!” Mother said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“Well then,” Father smiled, “best start packing… Long journey ahead of us.”
* * * * *
BEFORE
A Much Needed Break
I watched as mum and dad loaded the suitcases into the car. I was in the living room, looking out of the front facing window onto the driveway where dad always parked. They were both smiling. Both laughing. Both happy. It had been a while since I had seen them like this. Dad was usually stressed when he came home from work demanding a glass of whiskey be readied for him. Mum was… Well mum was usually just mum. She’d cook, she’d clean and that was pretty much it; the life he dictated to her.
“So what do you want to do today then?” Granddad asked from the living room doorway.
Just because mum and dad were off on holiday, it didn’t mean they were taking me with them. I was fine with that. They needed their time alone. That was fair. But to leave Granddad in charge of me whilst they were gone? They didn’t trust me? Probably expected me to throw some wild parties when they were gone, or something. I don’t know.
“Could catch a movie at the cinema, or something?” he suggested.
“I’m sorry but I’ve already got plans with my friends,” I lied. I didn’t have anything lined up for the day. I just didn’t fancy spending my free time with an old fuddy-duddy. His intentions were always good but - I don’t know - I guess we just didn’t have enough in common to be able to spend vast amounts of time together. Conversations usually dried up pretty fast. I liked computer games, spending time with my friends, going clubbing (and failing to pull) and writing. He fought in the war.
Dad walked into the room with mum in tow.
“Well we’re just about done,” he said, “car is loaded up and holiday spirit is engaged. Do you have everything you’re going to need?” he asked Granddad.
Granddad nodded.
“Excellent.” Dad turned to me, “Son, say goodbye to your mother…”
Mum walked over to me. Despite the smile on her face, I could see in her eyes that she wanted me to be going with them. We both knew dad could have afforded me to go had he wanted to do so. He was still trying to teach me a lesson though. Still trying to get me to learn the value of money and paying one’s debts, I guess. Asshole.
“I wish you were coming too,” mum said. She gave me a hug.
“Go. Have a good time. I’ll be fine,” I said - still wrapped in her arms. “I have Granddad! If anyone is getting a holiday, it’s me!”
She pulled away. She knew I was just being polite and trying not to show my disappointment at not going with them. A holiday would be nice but - every cloud has a silver lining - at least I had two weeks without dad breathing down my neck. Two weeks peace and quiet whereby I could just relax.
I watched as mum and dad said goodbye to Granddad. Dad didn’t say much to me other than to watch myself and try and get a job before they get home. I just smiled at him. No sense rocking the boat just as he steps foot outside of the front door. Granddad and I stood at the doorway as mum and dad climbed into the car and disappeared. Two weeks peace and quiet starting from now.
“Your dad has given me a list of jobs he needs doing before they get home,” Granddad said.
Of course he did.
Funny how he got Granddad to tell me too. He knew I wouldn’t be able to say no to him or kick up a fuss. Even when he isn’t here he’s nothing but a pain in the ass.
* * * * *
NOW
Roads Untraveled
I was sitting on the edge of the heavily stained mattress staring at the mess I had made earlier, knocking things from the table. My thoughts divided between wondering whether anyone was still watching us and - more to the point - whether they’d try and stop us from leaving the house and new, fresh thoughts questioning whether it was just father-figures in general that I didn’t get on with? Perhaps some kind of alpha-male thing that I have a tendency to fight back against? As memories of my real life come back to me, bit by bit, I realise just how much I had resented my dad. And - living this lie in the house - I hate Father. Maybe I’m the one with the issues?
“What are you thinking?” Sister asked.
She was throwing some clothes into a carrier bag snatched from the kitchen. I don’t s
ee the point in packing any belongings. I know that behind that wall - there is a world of new clothes and hot showers waiting. Packing now, especially these clothes, is just a waste of energy. And it’s not as though the cat took much of the lingering hunger from me. Definitely better to save the strength.
“Nothing.”
“Yes you are. I can see it on your face.”
She set the bag down and sat next to me.
“What is it?”
Where to start? I have issues in both this world and the real world out there? Or do I start by telling her we’re living a lie? Blurt out that we’re not family? Tell her there was no bomb and that - in actual fact - the world is ticking along just as it was before? Or do I tell her that I keep thinking I’m going to have to kill Father before he hurts one of us? I can’t tell her anything. My thoughts are my own, even though I wish I were able to share them; if only to lighten the burden. She can’t be trusted though. She can’t. She’ll tell him. And then it will all kick off.
“It’s nothing. Really. I’m just tired.”
She didn’t take her eyes from mine. She could tell I was lying. It was obvious despite my best intentions to hide it from her. Part of me started to wonder whether I could share some of it with her. Part of me wondered whether, since coming home, she’d grown a little more attached to me and that she might be able to keep a secret after all - maybe even help me to figure it all out? She sided with me downstairs. If memory serves correctly, I think that could have been the first time she had done so. I think.
“Come on. I’m your sister…”
No you’re not.
“… Let me help you. We’re in this together,” she continued.
I sighed.
“Can you keep a secret?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“You promise?”
“Yes. What is it?”
