Page 64 of Viking Ink

Still, at least he was less grumpy now.

The square was sunny and warm, the trees blocking the worst of the winds as I opened my guitar case. It felt so good to be doing this again. May and the other stall holders waved as I got ready to play.

I texted Daddy to tell him I was busking in the square, and he promised as soon as he finished up with his client he’d be coming up to watch, and Mitch was going to be up soon. I was a little nervous. I knew they’d all seen me play before, but then they were just faces passing by. Now they were… family.

Huh. I hadn’t thought of it like that before, but the Johannsens had become my family. The feeling filled me with warmth. Maybe one day I could get Grandad to visit, and introduce him to Simon and the guys. I had a terrible feeling he and Doc would get along like a house on fire.

I swiped down on the strings, the familiar feeling already sweeping me up, the music coming into me like an old familiar friend. By the end of five songs, I was sweaty and happy. A small crowd of onlookers had gathered and my guitar case was full of coins and a few notes. I no longer needed to busk to make a living, but it still filled me with pride, knowing people enjoyed my music enough to throw their coins in my case.

Finishing my last song, I heard excited cheering and whooping. Across the square, Mitch was bouncing on his toes, yelling and clapping. His hair was down from its usual bun, waving about as he jumped and cheered.

“You rocked, squirt!” He yelled, slightly breathless as he jogged over to me. “Simon’s going to be pissed he missed it, but the client wanted a bit more work on the colouring.”

I was a bit disappointed, but I understood. Simon’s clients were important, and his work was incredibly popular. I’d seen the booking sheets. People came from all over to have him work on them.

At some point I wanted to have Daddy put his ink on me too, but Doc had said some of the scars on my back were still too fresh, and we’d have to wait. I ached to have those ugly reminders of my father covered by something of my choosing, laid on my skin with love and not hate. I was wrapped up in thoughts of new ink and Mitch’s excited chatter about the play date we’d arranged.

“You sure Sy isn’t going to mind me being around colouring and shit with you?’ Mitch was chewing his lip, a sure giveaway when it came to his moods. He was nervous about his brother seeing him in his space. I’d tried to reassure Mitch, knowing he desperately needed the downtime. We’d not had much in the last week and I knew he’d been slammed at work, so this weekend was going to be a day of colouring and playing with Lego while Daddy did his own thing.

“Mouse.” I resorted to using his nickname, knowing it seemed to calm him down when he was feeling a bit fretful. “Simon has no problem with it. You can ask him yourself at my birthday party. I’ll be there to back you up.”

“Yeah, I might. You know I’m glad you and Sy are together, right? And that you finally got your perfect Daddy,” he whispered, helping me pick up the cash from my case.

I shoulder bumped him. “Me too. I got my Daddy and the brother I always wanted.”

“Oh fuck, dude. Why’d you have to go say something sweet like that? You’re going to make me cry and fuck up my eyeliner.” Mitch wiped at his eyes, grinning.

Without a care, I grabbed him by the face and smooched a kiss on his cheek. “You’re gorgeous even when you look like a distraught raccoon.”

Mitch gasped, pushing me back, “Bitch, I’m fucking hot, all the time.”

“Rhys! Rhys O’Connell!” A voice that was terrifying in its familiarity interrupted my conversation with Mitch. My blood turned to ice as I turned slowly to see a face I’d prayed I would never see again.

With cold blue eyes and a stern, matronly hairstyle, my stepmother looked the same as the day I’d left, even dressed in the same dour overcoat she always wore when out. Her lips were thinned in barely concealed anger.

“Susan. Surprised to see you here.” I was surprised how cold my voice sounded, how detached I felt, even as my hind brain was screaming to run away as far as possible.

If she knew I was here, my father soon would.

“Is that how you address me, Rhys? As if I were not a mother to you for all those years?” She spoke calmly but I could sense the seething anger beneath her chilly exterior.

“You were no mother to me, Susan, just as he was no father. Abusers and manipulators, yes. But parents? Never,” I spat out, my own anger rising.

“I can see time spent out in this sinful world has not been kind to you, child. Your place is back on the farm with your father and I. We’ve moved the entire congregation out there now, and your father has devoted himself full time to the service of the Lord.” Her hand shot out, wrapping around my wrist. “I can see this place has already perverted you.” She shot Mitch an icy glare.

“Take your hand off me.” I shook off her grip, stepping back. Mitch’s hand found mine, lending me his strength. My stepmother’s gaze landed on our joined hands.

“Is this your boyfriend?” Her voice was bitter. “Have you let him defile you with his sinful touch?”

“Nah, lady. That’s my brother’s job, defiler in chief. Me? I’m just the pretty bitch who’s going to slap you one if you don’t step back.” Mitch sounded calm, but I could see that subtle tick in his eye, fair warning to any who knew him that his temper was up.

“Rhys, you need to come with me.” She reached out, trying to grab me again, but Mitch quickly stepped between us.

“No, he doesn’t, lady. Rhys is a grown man who doesn’t want to go with you, so you should back off, head home and not bother coming back.”

“Rhys is a troubled young man! He needs to be home with his family. He needs his father to guide him on the right path, not to be exploited and defiled by the likes of you.” Susan’s voice rose as she grabbed at my arm again.

She was a strong woman, taller than me, and she’d always terrified me. Her screaming and grabbing triggered memories of her hauling me off to throw me in the cupboard, but not before beating me with my father’s belt.

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