Page 15 of Bozo

As I leave the warehouse, my head spinning, I realize I'm at a crossroads. I can walk away and leave Dad to face the consequences of his actions, or I can dive deeper into this world, hoping to swim rather than sink.

Fuck, I already know the answer to that question. I’m going to dive as deep as I can get. I have to, for Mam and for Gráinne. If I make the money needed, I can ensure that she can escape her life too.

SIX

GRÁINNE

Six Years Ago

Age Seventeen

My ribs are smarting. They have been for the past two weeks. God, my dad really is a bastard. The sooner I turn eighteen the better. I can’t wait to get out of the house. Go somewhere where he can get to me.

“Get me a drink, bitch,” Dad snarls, his words slurred. He’s been drunk as a skunk for the past ten years. Hell, even longer. He’s a sorry bastard who gets drunk to block the pain and the memories. It’s a way to mask his guilt. Ten years ago, Dad was driving home from my aunt’s wedding, and Mam was in the front passenger's seat. I’ve only come to find out that Dad crashed the car into a wall. He’d had too much to drink. Mam never survived the crash. She died on impact. He admitted it to me whilst drunk a week ago and I’m still struggling to come to terms with it.

That’s something he hasn’t been able to live with, and he has been a drunken asshole ever since.

I shuffle to the kitchen, wincing with each step. The fridge light flickers as I grab a can of beer. I realize that he’s forgotten to order food shopping. There’s nothing in here, not even a beer. This is his last one, which means he’s going to get even angrier.

"Hurry up!" he bellows from the living room.

My hands shake as I pop the tab, foam spilling over onto my fingers.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. As I round the corner, I see him sprawled on the couch, eyes focused on the TV, which is blaring as he watches some game show. His eyes are bloodshot. I can barely see any white.

"Here," I mutter, thrusting the can at him.

He snatches it, sloshing beer onto the already-stained carpet. "Took you long enough," he grumbles.

I turn to leave, but his meaty hand clamps onto my wrist. "Where do you think you're going?"

My heart races. "I-I have homework," I stammer.

He yanks me closer, his boozy breath hot on my face. "Sit down and watch TV with your old man."

I sink onto the edge of the couch, as far from him as possible. Just a few more months, I remind myself. Just a few more months, and I'll be free.

I’m going to become a doctor. I want to help people, like no one has been able to help me.

Dad grunts and curses at the contestants whenever they get a question wrong, not that he’s gotten any right. I sit rigid, barely breathing, hoping he'll forget I'm here.

My mind wanders to the college applications hidden under my mattress. I've been working on them in secret, staying late at the library to use their computers. Ms. Johnson, my guidance counselor, has been helping me look for scholarships. She has no idea how bad things are at home. Hell, no one does, not even Connor.

My best friend is the best man I know. His mam died last year, and he did what he always wanted to do. He escaped his father—something I want to do too, but until I hit eighteen, I can’t, especially as I have no money and nowhere to go. Connor’s been gone for months, working for Lorcan Black. He’s paid off his dad’s debt and is currently earning money as he plays for Lorcan. I don’t begrudge him his happiness. He’s finally got what he wanted, and I’m so proud that he’s done it. But I miss him.

I’m pulled from my thoughts as Dad's empty can clatters to the floor. "Get me another," he demands, not even looking at me.

I hesitate, knowing what's coming. "That was the last one," I say softly.

His bloodshot eyes snap to me, narrowing dangerously. "What did you say?"

"There's no more beer," I repeat, my voice trembling. "You forgot to buy more."

He lurches to his feet, swaying slightly. "You useless piece of shit," he snarls. "You should've reminded me!"

I scramble backwards, but I'm not fast enough. His fist connects with my jaw, sending me sprawling. Pain explodes through my face as I taste blood.

"I'm sorry," I whimper, curling into a ball as he looms over me. "I'm sorry. I'll go get some now."

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