Everything to Nothing (41 page)

‘Now look here.
She’s been very kind to you giving you some money…’

‘It’s okay
Simon, let her speak.’

‘Yeah, you have
lost some weight, and you’ve actually found a bra that fits. From
the little porker that used to waddle around school, you’ve turned
into a beautiful woman Michelle, happy and content. And it is with
these words I’d like to leave you with today. I hope you both die a
painful death in total and utter misery. If you’re lucky enough to
have children, I hope they die too, also in total and utter misery.
I wish you both a long life full of trauma, heartbreak and misery
so then you can understand what it’s like to be me, to have lived
my life and the misery I have suffered. I don’t know if it is
possible to curse people, but I call upon all the gods in the world
to curse you two now to a life full of pain, suffering and
misery!’

Sarah did not
see the palm of Michelle’s hand but she certainly felt it as it
slammed into her cheek. She managed to stagger out of range before
Michelle could land a second blow and Simon grabbed her wrist as
she made to swing again.

In a
frighteningly cool voice Michelle spoke. ‘How dare you speak to us
like that. I’ve just helped you, been kind to you and you try to
curse us. You’re pathetic. You look and smell like a rat, so why
don’t you crawl back down into the sewer where you belong? If our
paths ever, ever cross again Sarah you won’t find me to be so
charitable. There will only be one person who dies a painful death,
who leads a miserable life, and that’s you as you die a typical
drug user’s death in a foul bedsit with a needle hanging out of
your arm. You are truly pathetic Sarah and I hope I never, ever see
you again.’

Michelle shook
off Simon’s hand and stormed into the department store. He stared
at Sarah, trying to control himself, to which she responded by
raising her middle finger at him. He took a step towards her and
then shook his head, mouthed the word pathetic at her and then
followed Michelle into the store.

Sarah raised
her middle finger again and jabbed it into the air behind him. Then
with a wild cackle she strolled off along the street towards her
home.

*

Sarah took a
long time to walk home that day wanting to make sure her mother was
totally drunk before going home. Eventually though she entered her
house at dusk and the first thing Sarah noticed was the smell.
During her seizure, her mother had lost control of her bodily
functions and soiled herself with faeces. It was this smell that
struck Sarah as she opened the door to the house.

Coughing a
little as she walked into the lounge area, she was surprised to see
her mother’s chair unoccupied. Presuming she was on the toilet she
turned to go upstairs. It was then she saw her mother’s twisted
body. Sarah let out an ear piercing scream and she was still
screaming as she ran out of the house and she was still screaming
as she banged on her neighbour’s door.

‘Bob! Oh my
God! Bob help me!’ She pounded the door, pounded and pounded it,
while she continued to scream. ‘Bob! Please Bob!’

Sarah noticed a
light being turned on and the curtains were opened so she pounded
the door harder, screaming louder. She saw Bob’s face press against
the window and a look of surprise as he registered it was Sarah. He
moved the couple of steps to the door and flung it open. Sarah did
not appear to have noticed the door was open or perhaps did not
care. Her pounding fists now landed on Bob’s chest and it was some
moments before he could grab her wrists and restrain her. ‘Sarah!
Sarah! What the hell is wrong?!’

She did not
stop screaming though so Bob in one huge hand held both her wrists
and gently, well for him it was gently but for Sarah it definitely
did not feel gentle, twice slapped her across the face. This action
shocked Sarah into silence.

‘Sarah, are you
with me? Nod your head if you can hear me.’ She hesitated and then
nodded. ‘Good. Now, what the hell is wrong? You’ve got me scared
senseless and it takes a hell of a lot to scare me honey.’

Out of breath
she managed to mutter, ‘My mum.’

‘Your mum?
Margaret? What’s wrong with Margaret?’

‘She’s fallen
downstairs. Her head. I think she’s…’With this Sarah burst into
tears and collapsed against Bob.

He wrapped his
arms around her and called upstairs. ‘Clare! Clare! Come down and
help me with Sarah.’ Bob’s wife came down the stairs still
clutching the baseball bat that she had grabbed when she heard the
commotion downstairs. ‘Put the f’ing bat down and take her into the
lounge while I go next door and look.’

Placing the bat
behind the front door, she put her arm around Sarah’s shoulders and
gently led her into their living room. Bob picked up the bat and
went into Sarah’s house.

Like Sarah he
first noticed the smell and he flicked on a light switch. Cursing
as it did not work; he tried the switch a few more times and then
gave up. He took the same route that Sarah had taken a few minutes
earlier, and it was only when peering through the gloom did he see
the twisted body. He took a few strides and stood over her, looking
at the un-natural angle of her head.

During his time
in the Marines and Special Forces, he had used his almighty
strength to snap many an enemy combatant’s neck so he knew
instantly that this was a mortal injury. In more hope than
expectation, he checked for a pulse in her neck. He did not expect
to find a beat and was therefore not disappointed when he did not.
He reached up to her eyes and closed them.

Chapter 32

The funeral of
Sarah’s mother was a sombre affair with only a few attendees who
were mostly neighbours. No family attended the funeral, including
the deceased’s own daughter.

Once the body
was removed by the authorities, she returned to the house closing
all the curtains. In the week leading up to the funeral she was not
seen by anyone, neighbours or the authorities except very late at
night when she would sneak out of her house and scamper through the
alleys to the red light area to spend the last of her mother’s
money.

When the police
came to question her she did not answer the door. They returned
numerous times and on all occasions she did not answer. They left
cards asking her to call but the police were not persistent. They
learned from neighbours that the deceased was a severe alcoholic
and from the post-mortem they had learned that she had suffered a
seizure before the fall. They presumed, incorrectly but close
enough to close the file, that the seizure struck when the victim
was at the top of the stairs, sending her to her death.

On the morning
of the funeral, Bob pounded every door and window he could reach to
get Sarah to attend the funeral. But Sarah knew when the funeral
was taking place and she had not returned home that day. Instead
she had spent the day taking the last of drugs she had been able to
buy with the last of the money in the pipe under the railway.

Later that day
she slowly walked home, still slightly high from her last hit,
quietly humming to herself. As she reached the bottom of her street
she approached her house from the other side of the road, checking
that Bob was not waiting for her. Noting that he did not seem to be
around, she skipped and hummed across the street to her front door
scrabbling in her pockets for her keys. Eventually finding them she
placed the key in the lock only to hear a couple of loud steps
behind her. She turned around and gasped as Bob approached her
along the garden path. He had been attending the wake in another
neighbour’s house and had been looking out for Sarah. ‘Where’ve you
been Sarah?’ She did not reply. ‘Sarah, it was your mother’s
funeral today. You know that don’t you?’ She shook her head but Bob
was of course not convinced. ‘Your mother’s funeral Sarah and you
didn’t come. Why didn’t you come?’ Sarah dropped her eyes so she
was staring at her feet. ‘Look at me Sarah, please look at me.’
Slowly, reluctantly, she raised her head. ‘I know you’ve been going
through a bad time, but please, I’m here to help. Please, what can
I do to help you?’

Sarah appeared
to contemplate the question for a few moments before responding.
‘Nothing.’

‘You need to go
and see the solicitors tomorrow and sort out your mum’s estate. I
can run you down in the morning.’

‘What estate
Bob? She, we, have nothing.’

‘There are some
formalities you need to organise.’

‘No, there
isn’t. She had no money, no insurances. The house is council. There
is nothing she could have left me.’

‘Please Sarah.
Come with me tomorrow. I want to help you.’

‘Bob, I don’t
want your help. I just want to be left alone, totally alone.’

‘That’s fine
Sarah, for now. Grief drives us away from people, but remember
where I am when you’re ready.’

‘I won’t ever
be ready. Please, leave me alone.’

With that Sarah
turned away from him and entered the cold empty house. Slowly she
made her way through it and climbed the stairs into her bedroom.
She collapsed onto the mattress and suddenly tears started to run
down her face. Quickly she wiped them away and reached into pocket
and pulled out a small, folded up piece of tin foil which she
proceeded to unwrap. Inside was a small portion of white powder.
The tears continued to drop from her eyes as she contemplated the
powder until she reached across to the other side of the mattress
and retrieved a small tray with a teaspoon, matches, a syringe and
other items she would need to cook up a hit. And that’s exactly
what she did, cooked up a hit with her last portion of heroin.

*

The next day
Sarah searched through her bedroom trying to find anymore heroin
that she could take. Quickly though the usual withdrawal symptoms
descended upon her and by evening had become unbearable. Now hardly
able to think with the cravings driving her to the brink of
insanity, she searched through the house opening every drawer and
cupboard, lifting and moving every chair and table, hunting for any
money that might still be in the house. All she was able to find
were a few coppers under the cushions of a chair in the living
room.

Cursing she
went back upstairs and rooted around in her drawers until she found
some lingerie that fitted her perfectly a few months ago, but now
hung off her body like old rags. Her breasts that used to fill the
bra and be pushed up into an attractive cleavage now sagged against
its cups. From the back of her wardrobe she took a very short skirt
and slid this on. Again, the skirt used to fit her exactly, showing
her hour glass figure off and her long sexy legs. Now it sat on her
skinny hips merely accentuating the thinness of her body. For a top
she chose a simple white blouse and then made her way into the
bathroom where she still had a few cosmetics left over.

To hide her
pale, gaunt, yellowy skin and the dark circle around her eyes, she
thickly plastered the make up onto her face, finishing it off with
a bright red lipstick. Looking deeply into her once sparkling brown
eyes in the cracked mirror, she laughed and said out loud that she
looked sexy. Not bothering with a jacket, she left the house hiding
her key under a pot in the garden. From here she walked quickly
into a specific area of the town.

It was dark
when she reached the area of town and she stood on a corner waiting
expectantly. Shortly she was joined by a few other women who stared
at her until one of them approached.

‘You new honey?
Never seen you before.’

‘Fuck off or
I’ll chop off your face!’

‘What?! I’m
only trying to be friendly honey.’

‘Fuck off and
leave me alone!’

‘Well fuck you
bitch!’

It was not long
before Sarah noticed some of the women being approached by men in
cars. Some of them got in and were driven away to return usually
about half an hour later. One of the women Sarah noticed was very
popular and she kept on being picked up and dropped off throughout
the night.

After an hour
of standing on the street Sarah was about to give in when she
noticed a car approach so she decided to wait and see what
happened. Slowly the car crept along the kerb until surprisingly it
stopped next to Sarah. The window slid down and Sarah did what all
the other girls had done and leaned through the window, smiling her
best smile.

‘You’re
new.’

‘Yes, I am. New
and fresh and ready for you.’

‘How much?’

‘For what?’

‘What do you
mean for what? For sex. How much?’

‘Fifty pounds
and I’ll blow your mind!’

‘Fifty pounds?!
I could drive into the city and get myself a quality whore in a
brothel for that much, not some drug addicted dirty whore!’ He
started to drive off.

Sarah did not
give up that easily though. ‘Wait, wait! What do you usually
pay?’

‘I won’t go no
higher than twenty-five for half an hour with a street walker.’

‘Okay.
Twenty-five it is then.’

With that Sarah
flung open the passenger door and flopped herself down into the
passenger seat. ‘Where do you want to go?

‘Well I’m not
going to my place. I don’t think my wife would like a threesome
with a dirty whore. I presume you’ve got a room somewhere like all
the other women?’

‘I’ve got a
house. Will that do?’

‘Fine. Where is
it?’

Sarah gave him
directions and quickly they arrived at her house. Taking his hand,
she led him into the garden picking up the key as they made their
way past. As soon as they entered the house Sarah removed her
clothes and stood in front of her customer in just her lingerie,
then she took him by the hand and led him upstairs.