The 26th Jun 2010 WriteOnSite Winning Entry
Cutting Loose
‘Why didn’t you stay to fight it out? The Razors needed you!’ Joelly turned away from her step-brother in disgust. ‘How can I hold my head up in front of any of the Gang members now? My own brother ran away, in the biggest turf battle of the decade.’
‘Didn’t run away,’ muttered Tom under his breath, as he shovelled more socks and boxers randomly into his travel bag. He snatched a couple of packets of crisps from the table top in passing and raided the fridge for a can. ‘Walked. Very deliberately.’
‘Coward!’ Joelly hissed at him.
Tom yanked open another drawer and pulled out jeans and an old hoody. He touched his jacket pocket to check the precious necessaries were still there. He’d have to be quick, time was running out.
‘They’ll come after you, you do know that?’
‘Bring ‘em on.’
‘Oh, the big talking man now, aren’t you? You’ll be squealing soon enough when the Razors regroup and Gaz comes after you. He'll cut you up.’
‘Right, I’m done. I’m out of here.’
‘Coward!’
‘Be seeing you.’ Tom looked round the sordid flat and glanced at the clock again. He needed to hurry, no time …
‘Not if I see you first.’ There was spittle at the corners of her mouth and hate and disgust in her eyes. Family values - what a joke.
‘Fine.’ He looked at her, one last time. His step-sister, enforced relative by his mother’s marriage, not by blood. Mother dead long since of drugs, father unknown, step-father in jail. Horrible life and she was part of it.
‘Here. Take this.’ He chucked her his mobile and a few quid. ‘Ring your dealer, have a hit on me. Enjoy your life, Joelly. I know you’ll never have the balls to walk out on it.’ Getting rid of the mobile made it all the more final - he'd never be tempted to pick up a call from anyone in this old life ...
‘Get out!’ Joelly practically spat at him.
He got out. Running now, down the stone steps because the lifts never worked in this hovel of a block of flats. Flying round each corner, bag slung over his shoulder, he felt freer with every leap. He had to be at Victoria coach station by twenty-past – he’d need to keep running.
Running – yes, but not away. Towards the new life offered, this job labouring on some farm in Yorkshire for the summer and after that – who knew? He knew he’d be cutting all ties with his old life and it would be hard to start again. He’d planned this move ever since his mate Hal died of a dirty overdose last summer. But the first real cut had been made today, by his refusal to join in the knife fight that had broken out in the back alleys. He’d cut his ties, cut out the gang culture and left it bleeding there on the city streets, he’d cut loose. He whooped as he hit the streets and sprang forward towards the route to Victoria.
Copyright © 2008 Rob Richardson. All Rights Reserved.