Eeny Meeny

98

I was sure they would wake up and stop me having my fun, but it’s amazing what seven pints of cider will do. My father had always been a heavy drinker – beer, cider, anything he could get his hands on really – and Mum had followed suit. It made the beatings more bearable and stopped her thinking. If she’d been sober long enough, she’d have realized what a cesspit her life was and put her head in the oven. I wish she had in some ways.

I’d planned this moment so many different ways. In my dreams, I always used a knife. I loved the idea of severed arteries, of blood splattering the walls, but in reality I didn’t have the nerve. I was worried I’d mess it up. Not strike hard enough, miss an artery. When I did it, I had to do it right or I would be dead and no mistake. Bastard would take his time too – God knows what he’d do to me – so I had to get it right.

I found some gaffer tape stockpiled in the caretaker’s office and took three rolls. In the end I only used one but I was nervous and wanted to be sure I didn’t run out. I did him first. I picked up his wrist and wrapped the tape gently round it. It almost felt affectionate, as if I was binding a wound. Round and round it went, then I lifted his arm and placed it next to the iron bedhead, looping the tape round and round the metal post, until his arm was securely tethered to it. I then did the same with his other arm.

My heart was beating fit to burst. My dad was already stirring, getting uncomfortable, so I had to work fast.

I did my mum’s left arm quickly, but whilst I was doing her right arm, she woke up. Or at least I think she did. She opened her eyes and looked straight at me. I like to think she saw what was happening and gave in to it. Agreed with me. Whatever, she closed her eyes again quickly and I had no more trouble with her.

They were both now secure, so I ran to the kitchen. It didn’t matter if I was noisy now. It was all about speed. I grabbed the cling film and jogged back into their bedroom. I’d seen this in a film and always wondered how it would be for real. I pulled off a large sheet of it, then double-, triple-strengthened it with some more. Then I climbed on to the bed, straddling my sleeping father’s torso and gently lifted his head. I slipped it over his face, then quickly passed it round the back, again and again, until his eyes, nose and mouth were completely encased in the springy, tense plastic.

And now he started to struggle like fuck. He opened his eyes and stared at me as if I was mad. He tried to shout, tried to wrench his hands free. I had to fight hard to stay on as his body cavorted, but I wasn’t going to be denied my triumph. I pressed down harder. His eyes were bulging now, his face puce. Next to him my mother was slowly rousing, irritable and sleepy.

Now the fight was going out of him. I pressed down even harder. I was gripping the edges so hard my hands were aching. But I had to make sure it wasn’t a trick. Had to finish the old man off.

Then suddenly he was still. My mother was awake now and was looking at me with a look of complete confusion. I smiled at her, then pressed the cling film over her face. Only one sheet this time. I wasn’t expecting much of a fight here.

It was all over pretty soon. I got up and realized I was drenched with sweat. I started to shiver. I didn’t feel happy, which was disappointing – I’d thought I would have. But it was done. That was all there was to it.