Page 29 of Cuts Like An Angel: Part 3

“Me? Nothing.”

Hand on her hip. “William?”

The smile turned into a grin and he couldn’t make it stop. He went to her and snaked his arms around her waist, pinched her to him and nibbled at her neck. It brought yelps from her. Her skin broke out in tiny bumps and she wriggled against him. It was enough to make him want to close his eyes and just stay there. He could forget everything here, Maria, his own head, every memory that lacerated him when he walked into the house. Like this, he could be William and not Josh.

“Stop …” Rosie giggled against him; her breaths came out ragged.

He sucked in a breath, slid his hand under her top and ran his thumb playfully along the underside of her breast. “You really want me to stop?”

“I hate you sometimes.” She leant into him, jelly in his hands right then. He kissed up the side of her neck and nipped at the top of her ear. His own breathing began to match hers. “Your mother is going to walk in on us.”

He turned her, noses touching, mouths so close. “Best get that food ready then, so we can head out.” He winked at her. Gave her one last kiss and went for the bucket.

“You’re a pig, William.” He heard Rosie say as he left the kitchen, and he was still smiling when he got to his mother’s room.

She was sitting in the tall chair by the window, in front of the television. It was so bloody loud as usual, but still, when he entered the room, his ears almost closed down at the deafening assault on them. Setting the bucket on the side, he grabbed the remote control and adjusted the volume. “You’re not deaf. Turn it down.”

Tallowed claws snatched out at him, and he moved. “I was listening to that.”

“Yeah? So were the neighbours. Rosie said you had an accident on the floor, and I need to clean it.” He stepped away from her and kept the remote out of her reach. The floor was clean, clean as he had left it when he went out. “Where is it?”

Maria pulled her frame in front of her and stood up. Her legs trembled a little, but it probably wasn’t helped by the fact her legs were so swollen she couldn’t even wear shoes. She shuffled around and got herself to the back of the chair where William was standing. “Accident? I didn’t have any … did she tell you I pissed myself? Do I look that old? That decrepit that I’d go and fucking piss my knickers?”

William narrowed his eyes and said nothing. He scowled at the room, searching the floor visually for any dark spots. “So, there is nothing for me to clean up?”

“I just said that didn’t I? She tries to make me look like a monster.”

“Really? So, you yelling at her that you needed to shit, or refusing to eat is normal behaviour?” He shook his head at her. This was nuts. All of it was.

Maria’s knuckles were bone white as she gripped onto the walker. “Do you take me for one of those retarded imbeciles in those homes? I might be older, William, but I’m not dead and drooling on my tits yet. If I wanted to shit, I’d go to the toilet. I don’t need an American whore to come and hold my hand while I do it.”

It was a wonder the remote control didn’t crack in his hand. His grip around it was firm, unyielding. “Rosie and I are popping out for a little while. We’ll be a couple of hours. She needs some fresh air.”

“What about me? I need fresh air.”

“Then go and get some. Go outside.”

She grimaced and it made the aged skin around her eyes pucker. “Is that what you think of me? Leave me rotting here? Bet you’d like to see me dead, wouldn’t you?”

“You’ve got your phone if you need me. You just need to call.”

“Don’t ignore me.” She wagged a finger in his direction.

William picked up the bucket, like protection. If she were the wicked witch, he could pour it on her and melt her. “I’m not ignoring you; I’m simply telling you that Rosie and I are going out for a bit. You’ll be fine by yourself.”

“You treat me like a piece of a shit you scraped off your shoe. That bitch too. She …”

There was a light knocking on the door, and whatever torrent of abuse Maria was about to let loose, soon stopped and went to nothing as Rosie pushed the door open and snuck her head around the gap. She smiled when she saw William and dared to come in the room. The hairs on William’s neck rose, and he moved back a little, ready for Maria to launch into another one of her spiteful rants.

“I made you a tuna and cucumber sandwich,” Rosie said. “And some tea, and a mug of soup. Tomato.”

“I don’t want your shitty, stew water …”

“Mother.” He set the bucket down so he could take the tray and set it on the small table Maria used to eat her meals. “It’s here if you want it.”

“Well I don’t.”

Rosie picked up the bucket, but William took it from her and then moved himself, so he was standing beside her. A united front. It was time for this to stop. It had been a week of him being the only one allowed to bring her meals, but as Rosie had pointed out, you can’t give in to children all the time. It teaches them to throw tantrums. So, they would. Starting right now. “You can eat it, or not. Drink the tea, or don’t. I don’t care. It’s you going hungry and thirsty …”

“You’d starve your own mother?”

He snorted and shook his head. “We’re going out. Your remote is here.” He put it next to the tray. “Your phone is there too. We’ll be back soon.”

Hooking his arm in the crook of Rosie’s, he led her out the room without casting a single glance back at Maria. He could feel her gaze, though, that burn in the back of his neck as they walked out.

“William,” Maria shouted as the door closed. “Will… iiii … ammmmmm.”

The salad was boxed and, in the kitchen, the soup was in a flask ready for them. William slammed the door and gritted his teeth. The anger nipped at his skin with tiny ants. “Is everything ready? I really need to get out of here.”

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