His hand now grabbed the back of my shirt, yanking me back to my feet as the buttons on my shirt exploded like a barrage from a machine gun, flying in every direction. Royce only laughed. When he saw my chest exposed, his laugh quietened, as if his brain had suddenly shifted its interest elsewhere.
We continued walking, my knees now feeling grazed and itchy. To say that I was uncomfortable would be like saying that ice-cream was a little chilly. I swear my arsehole was puckering nervous twitches with each step we got closer to home. I could feel his eyes on me, just staring at me from above.
I tried to avoid looking at him but you know when you try really hard not to do something? You tend to do it even more and every time I tried to steal a peak at him, I would see his black eyes just staring at me, one hand picking at a scab on his cheek.
10.
“Do you think your Daddy cares about you, boy?” he suddenly said, breaking the silence. We were approaching the Drummond Lane turn-off. Home was at the end of it, past Mr. McNally’s farm. There was only half a dozen or so houses on the entire road, the biggest of which was old Mrs. Taylor who still had cows running around her paddocks. The whole road was tree-lined with big gums and provided a good deal of shade in the summer when walking to and from school. A hand slapped the back of my head. “Speak, boy,” he snapped at me.
“Sorry, Sir. Yes, I think so.” He began to cackle, as if highlighting the absurdity of my answer.
“Why do you think he cares for you?”
“I don’t know.” I didn’t have the answer for him and my stomach still had that nervous heaviness. I just wanted to get home and go to my room. Hopefully my father would be there and this prick could have a beer with him and then leave.
“Think we should ask him when we get home?” He laughed again, and something in that sound only served to strengthen my dread. “Think he’ll be home, Harry old boy? Think he’s really there?”
I looked up at him again and saw him grinning at me, his tongue wetting his lips, as if anticipating a cool drink. My chest tightened at the realization that this walk had been planned, in all likelihood, by my father. Each step forward was now taking me to whatever plans this man had made with him. Maybe they’d decided to finally get rid of me once and for all. “It’s amazing just how little money a drunk is willing to accept for just about anything, Harry. It’s almost a crime just how little.”
We were now passing old Mrs Taylor’s house, the final home before my own, its roof already visible above the trees now facing us over the small hill. His steps seemed to quicken a little because I started struggling to keep up with him. Every few steps he would either give me a hard shove that nearly drove me into the dirt, or he would grasp my shoulder painfully and drag me up beside him if I was falling behind.
I could see old Mrs Taylor sitting on her porch, a cup in her hands. She didn’t wave even though Royce did. She just sat there, staring as we passed her driveway, sipping her drink.
“Do you know why it’s so great to be a cop, Harry?” he suddenly asked. I shook my head, unsure of the question. His answer didn’t make any more sense, not then at least. But it made perfect sense shortly after.
“Because no-one polices the police.”
11.
From the second I opened the front door; I knew the house was empty. The silence that shouted out to me with contempt only proved to increase my fears further. As I walked through the door, I suddenly realized that for the entire time it took to walk home, Eddie had not spoken to me once. It was as if he had hidden himself, leaving me to deal with whatever was waiting for us.
The room suddenly grew dark as the sunlight was temporarily blocked as Royce stepped through the door. I turned to face him, ready for the prick to shoot me. He didn’t even bother closing the door behind him as he fumbled his pistol’s holster. I grew hot and sweaty, my bowels suddenly feeling cramped.
“Run on up to your room, kiddo,” he said and I didn’t need to be asked twice. For a brief moment, I actually believed he would simply turn and walk back out, leaving me be. I bounded the stairs with renewed hope. I didn’t hear him move and when I reached my room, slammed the door behind me, the house resuming its cold and silent mirage.
12.
“What’s he doing?” Eddie whispered to me. I stood perfectly still trying to hear any indication of Royce’s whereabouts, but there was nothing. I thought that he may have left and turned my head to look out the window. The road, what little I saw, was clear and empty as it ran away from the house and disappeared over the crest of the hill. I felt heat rise in my cheeks as beads of sweat now formed on my brow.
The only sound I could hear was my own heartbeat thumping away in my chest. The front door suddenly slammed shut and I jumped, the pulsing in my head going up another gear. But was he on this side of the
