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He proceeds to spill the tale of unpaid debts, borrowed money gone awry, and shady characters from the darker corners of the city. It’s a grim story, one that makes my heart sink, made worse by a broken heart and being taken for a ride by a cheatinggirlfriend who was out to bleed him dry. I can see the genuine fear and remorse in his eyes, and I worry about how deep he’s gotten himself.
After he finishes, I take a deep breath and look him square in the eyes.
“First things first, we need to come up with a plan to get you out of this mess. But you’ve got to promise me, after this, you’re done with all this dodgy stuff. No more borrowing, no more trouble.”
He nods, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “I promise, Dash. I’m so tired of this life. I just want a fresh start.”
For a moment, the weight of our shared past, the history we can’t escape, bears down on us. But as we work on a strategy to help him out of his dire situation, a small spark of optimism ignites. Maybe this time, it will be different. Maybe this time, we can begin the process of rebuilding what we once had, even if it’s one small step at a time.
I’m just reaching into my jacket pocket to hand him the cash when the unmistakable click of a gun’s hammer being released fills the air. My hand freezes in my pocket, the blood in my veins turning to ice.
Shit.
My stepbrother looks at me, his expression torn with guilt, and I realise that this was a set-up from the beginning.
“I’m sorry, Dash,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
I slowly withdraw my hand, my heart pounding erratically as I become acutely aware of the danger we’re in. I search for the source of the ominous click. A figure steps out of the shadows, their face obscured by a hood and their eyes hidden in the darkness.
“Dash,” the voice is cold and menacing, “looks like you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time tonight, mate.”
A sense of déjà vu creeps up on me, as if history is repeating itself in the worst possible way. I should have known better, should have realised that the cycle of our lives would continue to revolve around deception, betrayal, and danger.
“Who are you?” I manage to croak out, my eyes never leaving the shadowy figure.
“I’m the one who’s going to teach your stepbrother here a lesson,” they reply with a menacing chuckle. “He owes my boss a lot of money.”
My mind races as I consider our options, but it’s clear we’re cornered, outnumbered, and outgunned, if the five shadowed figures at the end of the alley blocking our exits are anything to go by.
This night, meant to be an opportunity for a fresh start, has turned into a deadly trap, and there’s no easy way out.
My stepbrother and I exchange a terrified look, both of us silently acknowledging the severity of the predicament we’ve found ourselves in. As the hooded figure steps closer, I can only hope that we’ll find a way out of this dire situation, or else the cycle of our shared history may come to a grim and final end.
6 DAYS TO CHRISTMAS
‘BURDEN’ – FOY VANCE
‘ENGLISH WINTER’ – THE FALLOWS
CANDY
I sleep in, much later than I had planned. Despite spending much of last night plotting to hunt down Jamie’s lying, cheating, skanky ass to get all my stuff back, now I’m sober, I know it’s not such a great idea. I just need to stay the hell away from him and move on. In the past, whenever I’ve tried to end it with him, he’s gaslighted me into changing my mind, but this was the final straw, the boot up the arse I needed to kick him to the curb once and for all. Even though, technically, it was me who got kicked into the gutter.
His disappearance from my life, even with all of my possessions, could be a blessing in disguise.
Which is why I had planned to set an alarm super early to start job hunting. Only, I didn’t actually set the alarm. My clumsy drunken fingers accidentally hit my music app, and Elle and I got lost in a musical vortex of childhood memories. And thus the alarm was forgotten.
I think I’m supposed to have regrets about that, or feel guilty or something, but I don’t. I’ve woken up more rested and comfortable than I have in months. I’m warm. Elle’s spare bed feels like it was made for a queen, and I can’t bring myself to leave the safety of my cloud duvet cocoon. Besides, Elle will havebeen at work for hours by now, and she’ll never know that I slept half the day away. Especially as she’s to blame for my cracking hangover, anyway.
Eventually though, when it’s way past lunchtime, I drag my ass from the bed and go for that bath I fancied last night. I use a copious amount of Elle’s posh bubble bath that she’s always telling me has to be imported from somewhere in Asia, and the entire room smells like a fragrant spa in minutes. I sink down into the jasmine-scented bubbles and marvel at just how good Elle has it.
When my stomach growls and the water’s gone cold, I drain the bath and pad through to Elle’s kitchen in slippers and a fluffy robe. I’m feeling really relaxed and sleepy; I don’t fancy job hunting on the streets at all.
Helping myself to coffee and a bagel, I sit with the day’s newspaper and flick half heartedly to the jobs section. There’s nothing. Well, nothing that is going to get me hired this side of Christmas, and nothing at all that will pay the kind of money I need. Although at this point, I guess any income is not to be sneered at.
I circle a few potential jobs, more to trick Elle into thinking I tried than anything else, and decide my best bet might be to canvas the local shops, diners and bars to see if they have any additional staffing needs. Retail is always busy over the festive period, surely someone could use an extra pair of hands for the next week or two at least?
I get dressed into some ‘job hunting’ clothes that Elle has left out for me, determined to make a good impression if I’m going to be traipsing the streets begging for work. Thankfully my short curly hair is playing ball for once, and I haven’t woken up looking like an electrocuted scarecrow. I look decent once I’m done, in Elle’s smart black skirt suit and semi-sheer cream blouse. It’s a bit wishy-washy for me with my pale skin, blueeyes and blonde hair, but I’m presentable. I slip on my flat black pumps that I had on for working in the diner yesterday and grab my bag from the hallway. Elle has left me a spare key too, so I pocket that and head out.
