Blissful Devastation (Leighton Lock Chronicles #1), page 7
“Sure thing, bro. Where you off to?” Brandon asks me, cuddling his nephew. It’s nice to see him a little more open and happy. He seems like an actual normal teenager now, not an isolated computer addict.
“Home, I need to try and sort some things out so I can start a life for me and my boy. Just keep him here, I might be a while. You know how dad is.” I smile sympathetically at him, knowing he knows how our father is, how violent and cruel he can be. I didn’t need his harsh words about my son, because I can guarantee there would be some, just to spite me.
“Of course, just be safe Leighton. Do you need me to come with you?” Ant asks me, always there to cover my back.
“It’s okay, mate, I’ll be okay. I am hoping to not be more than a few hours. With any luck I might be able to move past everything and start my own life.” I give my son a kiss to his head then ruffle his soft hair slightly. “See you guys soon.” I wave to them over my shoulder as I get my keys and leave the house.
Getting in my car, I sit in the seat for a few minutes, taking large breaths. It is going to be hard to see him, and my mother. Needing her at the hardest point of my life, and having her run out on me had broken any faith I had in her, any comfort of her being there to help me in hard times. She failed me, catastrophically, and I’m finding it hard to forgive her.
I start the ignition of my car, pulling away from Ant’s large driveway, driving cautiously through the winding country roads of Chelmsford.
Chapter Nine
I pull into the enormous drive, outside my parent’s even more gigantic home. It once was a place I called home, a place I felt safe and cherished, now It is just a collection of bricks and cement, that conceal a place that is full of lies.
I knock on the door, not wanting to just walk in, I don't feel like it is my home anymore, I’m merely a visitor.
The door is pulled open harshly, a woman coming into view. My mother, but not really, she looks older, more withered and weaker since the last time I had seen her, five months ago at the hospital.
“Leighton?” she says, surprised to see me.
“Hi, mum.” I say without any emotion, not even knowing if the word suited her anymore.
“What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” my mum asks me concerned.
“Everything is fine, I just need to speak to you and dad about some things.”
“Sure, come in.” She ushers me indoors, looking at me as though wanting to pull me in her arms, but she settles for brushing her hand up my arm.
“How you holding up, kid?” she questions me, and it makes my blood boil, but I force myself to rein my anger in, not needing to feel that way right now. I have more important things to think about right now, and losing my temper isn’t going to do anything to help.
“Fine.” I answer simply, once again not showing any emotion.
“Good, I’ve been worried.” She tells me, making me scoff at her.
“Yeah, sure.” I reply to her, rolling my eyes at her. Since when did my mother become a bullshitting, fake bitch? She has clearly been more self-obsessed and desperate to keep my lying scumbag father than to care for her son in the hardest time he will ever go through.
“I have, please you have to believe me.” She pleads me with her eyes, ones that once held life but now are just empty pits of fake truths and empty promises.
“Sure.” I smile smugly at her, walking past her to go to the lounge.
“Son, I didn’t know you were coming today. How have you been? Good?” my father stands from his chair, walking across the room to me. He pulls me into a hug, slapping my back firmly.
“Oh, yeah, I’ve been fabulous, Dad. Of course you both would know if you bothered.” I say quietly, under my breath, but still loud enough for them to hear.
“We’ve wanted to, Leighton, truly, but we have been far too busy here.” My dad tells me, making me laugh manically at him.
“Too fucking busy here? What’s busy, dad? Fucking more woman, killing more people? I’ve been dying inside, and both of you, my own fucking parents, couldn’t give a toss how I’m coping after losing my fiancée. How my son is coping after being born three months fucking early. You’re full of shit, dad.” I tell him, going to his liquor cabinet and pouring myself a large drink, needing it to calm me before I lose my temper too much.
“How is my grandson?” My mum asks me, coming to my side and stroking my arm again.
“Don't call him that. He is not your grandson, he is nothing to you. He is my son, Georgia and Brandon’s nephew, Josie’s son, he is nothing to do with you, and never will be. I only came here to ask for my trust fund.” I tell them both bluntly. I have no room for calm right now. I just want to get this over with so I can leave. Looking and being around both of them is making me murderously angry, and if I don't leave soon I feel inclined to do something I’ll regret. All my anger and hate from the last five months has been building up and is just about ready to explode.
“Of course, anything, please just forgive me Leighton. I love you, sweetheart, I’ve missed you so much.” She attempts to put her arms around me, but I pull away, downing my drink and placing the glass on the side.
“Please, don't mum. I can't forgive you, not yet. Maybe one day I can, but right now I have too much hate towards both of you. I needed you mum, I needed you so fucking much to help me from feeling so dead inside, make me see the world isn’t so bad, but you failed me. I can't forgive that, I don't know if I ever can. Just please give me the money so I can start a life with my son.” I explain to her, not even really looking at my father, unable to bear the sight of his cheating face. It’s all just a mask with him, he is able to cover his true self so easily.
“I’ll get your father to transfer it over later, son. I want you to have the best life you can, and your little boy. You deserve the world kid. Go and live it, take everything you can.” My mum tells me, her eyes tearing and finally releasing a small drop. I can't help but think something is wrong, her little goodbye a little too final for my liking.
“Mum, is everything ok?” I ask her, bending to look at her, her skin white and wrinkled, her cheek bones far too prominent and her collarbone poking out a little.
“Yes, everything is fine. I'm just glad I got to see you, before...” she doesn’t finish her sentence, she begins coughing hard, the rattle in her chest causing concern to me.
“Mum, mum. What’s wrong?” I ask her nervously, tapping her back to help her clear her chest.
“Nothing, nothing Leighton. I'm fine. You get going son, but please, look after yourself and your baby, treasure him like I should have you.” I raise my eyebrow at my father over my mum’s back, as she remains bent over trying to breathe.
“Don't fucking lie to the boy, Cassandra.” My father bites out to my mother, sitting casually back in his chair, drinking his own drink, smoking a cigar.
“No, not now.” She attempts to shout back. “Just go, kid, go back to Antonio’s and be with Joseph. You will have your money later. There will be enough to get yourself set up.”
“No, I’m not leaving until you tell me what the fuck is going on.” I say frustrated to both my parents. “Now.” I shout.
“Go on Cass, tell him, he deserves to know.” My father orders my mum.
“He doesn’t need to know, it’s none of his concern.” She explains to my dad, talking as though I’m not here.
“Fine, I’ll tell him you stupid woman.” My father’s attitude makes me livid and in need of seriously hurting him.
“Don't fucking talk to her like that, you piece of shit.” I threaten my father.
“Your mother is dying, Leighton, a bit over due if you ask me, but she doesn’t have long to live.” He smiles at me maliciously.
“No. No you cannot be. He’s lying. Please mum, please tell me he is lying?” I beg her, falling to my knees in front of her. She collapses with me, her knees hitting the carpet harshly.
“I'm sorry, so fucking sorry, Leighton.” She tells me, dropping her head and lifting her hands to cry into them.
“No mum, please, you can't go, please I’m begging you.” I begin to cry myself, wrapping my arms around her to hold her body. Only as her tiny frame collapses into me do I realise how skinny she actually is, how much weight she has lost. Her bones are easily visible through her paper like skin, her skin cracked and bruised.
“Sorry.” She says again. I don't know why she is apologising, she has done nothing wrong, not bad enough to deserve this anyway.
“Oh, stop fucking crying, there’s nothing you can do.” My dad says from across the room, causing a growl to travel through me.
I stand from my mum, leaving her on the floor. I rush across the room, pulling my father from his chair. I hold him by his scruff, getting into his face. “I am leaving now, I am taking my mother with me, you come near us, or her again, if I hear one word from you, then you are a fucking dead man. I will come for you, I will tear ever limb from your fucking body leaving you to bleed out like the fucking cowardly cunt you are.” I warn my father, forcing my forehead into his nose, his body flopping into the chair. Blood gushes from his broken nose, his body out cold and limp in the chair.
“Mum, please come with me, you can't stay here with him. I need to care for you.” I beg her, lifting her weak frame from the floor, unable to lift herself up. “Don't worry about the money, I’ll find a way but you can't be here, I won't let you.”
“Okay.” She says, her sniffles sounding aloud as she struggles to walk beside me. I take her out to my car, settling her into the seat before going indoors to pack her some things up to last a while.
I’m back at my car in five minutes, driving away from the place we both had called home. There is no way my mother is dying here, with the disgusting way my father is being.
It is all too real to accept, too hard to even comprehend.
Yet again, this cruel sickening world is taking another person I love.
My mother, the person who has protected me always, is dying.
And I am the selfish cunt who had ignored her for the past five months, my own stubborn arse not realising something was wrong. She has just been too busy dealing with her health, and surviving living with my father.
I am a selfish prick.
Chapter Ten
I have managed to keep my mum alive for another two months, bed bound and barely alive, but still breathing. She has cancer, an aggressive form, that is eating away at her, taking every last piece of her with it.
“Mum, how you feeling?” I ask her, bringing my son in the room to sit on the bed with her. He is now seven months old and healthy as anything. She cherishes these moments. Getting to see the life and vibrancy my son possesses, it make her force herself to live a little bit longer.
“Not good, kid. I'm tired.” She smiles faintly, the oxygen tubes in her nostril slipping a little. I push them back up, then straighten her pillows and lift her bony body back up.
“Want me to get you something?” I ask her, lifting the cup of water from the side and sliding the straw into her mouth to drink from. Her cracked lips barely surround it as she weakly sucks from it, managing to draw a few droplets into her mouth.
I am breaking, once again, the same as seven months ago, when I saw Josie so lifeless and weak. This is my mother, the woman I love unconditionally, losing a battle she was never going to win. If only I had known earlier, I could have got her the help. She had told me my father refused to get her the home care she needed, leaving her to slowly drift.
If there is one thing I want in this world, it is to kill him, for everything he has ever done. My mother has made me promise not to touch him but by God do I want to.
“No, I don't need anything, Son. It’ll be soon, I just need to say goodbye to you all.” She smiles again, tears trickling from the corner of her eyes, collecting in a little pool on her pillow.
Joseph plays with the cover over her, pulling and tugging at it, giggling and mumbling away to himself. My mum looks to him, struggling, but succeeding to lift her hand and stroke his mop of brown hair. He is still the spitting image of his mum, absolutely beautiful.
“I'm sorry for everything, Leighton. Sorry I couldn’t be a better mum.” My mum tells me, clasping my hand lamely.
“Shhh, mum, you were perfect. You did everything for me.” I lean and kiss her head, her eyes closing slowly. Her breaths start to become laboured and short, her chest struggling to draw breath in.
I know it’s coming, probably within the next hour, and I’m not ready for it.
She begins to cough weakly, trying to clear the build up of fluid in her lungs. “Leighton, I need to tell you something.” She manages to say. I can see her losing it, she is fading quickly. The blood on the surface of her skin is beginning to draw back, a white hue coating her all over. Her breathing becomes almost non-existent. I have to get my brother and sister here, they need to say goodbye before it’s too late.
“GEORGIA, BRANDON!” I shout at the top of my lungs from the doorway of her room, before returning to her side.
“Leighton, it was him.” she tells me as I hold onto her hand again. I remove Joe from her bed, placing him on my knee so I can move closer.
“What was who mum?” I ask her, leaning in close as her speech becomes so quiet its almost unrecognisable.
“Your father... Josie.” She manages to say, before turning her head to the side and sucking in small tiny gasps of air.
“What, Leighton?” my siblings rush in the room, speeding to my mum’s side.
We all surround her, holding her hands, stroking her face as she drifts away, her breathing eventually stopping, her eyes shutting as she sleeps.
“Goodnight, mum. I love you.” I say quietly, as I lean down and kiss my mum’s lifeless body, for the last time.
I leave my sister and brother beside her bed, their sobs heard throughout the entire house.
I walk to Antonio, sitting in the lounge with his sister, comforting her as she cries quietly over the loss of my mother.
“Take him.” I say sharply, placing Joe in his lap.
“Mate, I’m so sorry.” Ant goes to stand, but I look at him sharply causing him to sit back down.
“JUST. LOOK. AFTER. HIM.” I bite out, walking from the house.
My Josie. My mum. Both dead. Because of him.
All I can say is ‘good luck, arsehole’ as I start my car and drive dangerously fast from Antonio’s house.
Auf Wiedersehen, Mother Fucker.
~ TO BE CONTINUED ~
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Watch out for book two in the series, Beautiful Vengeance, Due for release June 10th 2014.
A.T Smith, Blissful Devastation (Leighton Lock Chronicles #1)
