Page 1 of The Eraser

Prologue

STEPHEN

The kickto my stomach makes me heave.

"Do it," my father warns, his voice thick and filled with hate. "I'll fucking make ya eat it, you little cunt."

I swallow back the fear and vomit, praying I don't throw up. The last time I did, he shoved my face in it and made me eat every last bit, and then I had to clean the floors. I was sick as a dog for ages after that.

"You had better be asleep when I get back home, you understand, boyo?"

I nod, not wanting to make a sound. Anything could set him off, and I don't want him to hurt me again.

I lie on the floor, the coldness from the tiles seeping into my body. I hate this. I hate him. God, why does he always do this?

The sound of the front door slamming closed makes me flinch. It takes a while for me to get to my feet, my body protesting at every movement I make.

Once I'm in my room, I lift the hem of my shirt up and see the red marks he's left on my stomach. The man's clever, so damn clever. He always hits me where no one will be able to see the bruises.

"Stephen," I hear Ma call, but I ignore her. She's only going to ask me if I have any money. That's the only reason she ever talks to me. The woman's so focused on scoring drugs that she doesn't care about her only child.

My bedroom door opens and slams against the wall at Ma's heavy-handedness. Her eyes gaze over my body, and I quickly push my top down to cover up the bruises. "You know better than to upset him. He works really hard, Stephen. You shouldn't provoke him."

I just stare at her. Isn't she supposed to protect me? Isn't she the one who’s meant to keep people from hurting me?

I think I was six when I realized that my parents were different from everyone else’s. Hell, I no longer go to school because my parents won't take me. They'll always have an excuse whenever the social workers come around. It's funny that they believe I'm being homeschooled. How anyone could believe that a woman who's addicted to drugs is capable of homeschooling a child is crazy. But it's worked for her so far.

The first time my da hit me, I thought it was because I was bad, that I had done something wrong. It didn't take long for me to realize that he just does it because he feels like it. He's never shown remorse for what he does to me. He knocked me out when I was seven for playing in my room too loudly. I woke up to Ma crying that he'd killed me. Since that day, I have tried my best to stay out of both of their ways.

"I need you to go to the shop for me," Ma says. "I'm out of smokes and need some."

I hold out my hand for her to give me some money, and she scoffs. "Ain't got no cash, Stephen. Do your ma a favor and get some for me."

I shake my head. "Da took all me money, Ma. I ain't got any left."

She releases a heavy sigh and walks out of the room, and then I hear her moving around the house. "Your da's a dick," she hisses when she returns. "Here," she says, handing me some money. "Go to the shop and get me some smokes. Buy yourself something while you're there."

She wants me to stay out of the house for a while. That's something I'm more than capable of doing. Ma works the nightshift, and when she comes home, Da goes to work. They rarely see one another, and whenever they do, all they do is argue.

"I'll be back later," I tell her as I pull on my shoes.

"Don't stay out too late, okay?" she says, and I nod as I reach for my jacket. "Good. Behave while you're out. The last thing I need is Mrs Barnes on my case about you again."

"I'll stay away from her," I promise.

She grins at me, her eyes glassy and unfocused. "Love you, baby boy," she says, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. She's only nice when she's high as a kite and ready to crash. Any other time, she's always screaming and cursing at me.

I close the door behind me and set off walking. I glance at the money Ma's given me, realize it's only twenty euro, and inwardly groan. That's not going to get me into town. Guess I'm staying close to home today. I walk toward the shops and get what Ma needs first. Usually, they wouldn't sell cigarettes to a child, but Ma and Da know the owner, and they're more than happy to sell to me as long as they're paid.

I put the cigarettes into my pocket and the loose change into the other. I've got about five hours to kill before I need to be home. Ma sleeps like the dead and she needs the rest—according to Da—so I'm not to wake her. I don't think Da knows that when he's at work, I spend most of my time outside.

I wander the streets, walking up and down the rows of houses, looking around, seeing if there's anything new, or anyone new, but it's the same old, same old.

Hours later, I come across a big house that has loud noises coming from it. There's giggling, and my feet move toward the sound. I move around the house and see a bounce house, and around six or seven smaller children playing. Everyone looks happy. Adults are sitting down talking, and there’s food spread across tables and drinks for everyone to have. It's the most food I've ever seen.

My stomach starts to rumble at the sight, and I realize that I haven't yet had anything to eat today.

"Hi," a little girl with dark brown hair says as she steps close. "Who are you?"

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