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Memories
"Mum?" The teenage boy called up the hall, quietly shutting the door behind him. "Mum?" He called again when he didn't get an answer.
"Ssh, Mickey." She said coming out of the front room. "Your father's home."
"What's he doing here?" He said dropping his voice down to a whisper.
"Michael, come in here." Shouted a fierce voice before him mum had a chance to reply.
"Don't upset him, Mickey, please." Begged his mother.
Mickey took a deep breath before opening the door and entering the room.
"Get in here you little toe rag." His father said as soon as he saw the door open.
"What are you doing home so early?" Mickey asked gently.
"I've lost my bloody job." He shouted. "Go down the shop for me. Get me a four pack of beer and a packet of fags. Your mum'll give you the money."
"I can't Dad. The woman down the shop, she won't serve me, say's I'm too young." Mickey said trembling slightly.
"Don't give me that crap." His dad shouted. "Just do it or your life won't be worth living. Now get lost."
Mickey nodded and scuttled out of the room.
"What did he want?" His mum whispered when he got out of the room.
"Me to get him beer and cigarettes. The woman won't serve me, mum."
His mum opened the door and took one step across the thresh hold.
"Maybe I should go for him. The woman's a stickler for age."
"No, that lazy git can get it. Just give him the bloody money." His father roared.
"John…" She began.
"Are you arguing with me?" He shouted.
"Mum, don't worry, I'll go. Maybe it won't be her, maybe it'll be her husband." Mickey said not wanting his mother to be upset.
"Ok, Mickey. Take a fiver from the jar in the kitchen."
Mickey grabbed the money and hurried out of the house. He could hear his father shouting as he slammed the door shut behind him.
He ran all the way down the road to the newsagents on the corner. He pushed the door open and glanced over to the counter. His heart sank at the sight of the woman perched behind it.
"Afternoon, Mickey." She called over as he entered the shop.
"Hello." He said quietly. "Can I have me dad's usuals, please." He said looking down.
"I'm sorry, Mickey." She said looking genuinely apologetic. "You're still too young."
"Please, he'll kill me I go back with out it." Mickey begged his thin shoulders shaking with fear.
"The law's the law, I could loose my license."
"I won't tell anyone."
"I'm sorry, Mickey, really I am but I can't break the law. I'm sorry."
Mickey looked down and walked out of the shop. The woman looked sadly after him, she knew what his dad was like, everyone did.
He dragged his feet walking back down the road, he was putting off the inevitable, he knew what would happen to him if he returned home empty handed.
He stopped for a second about a hundred yards down the road. What if he didn't go home? What if he ran away? How far could he get before his Dad wondered where he was? Could he get far enough away? Then he thought of his Mum, she'd be broken hearted and he couldn't leave her alone with that bastard. He'd have to go home and face his fate.
His mother was stood in the hall, a red mark had already appeared over her right cheek. Mickey caught her eye and shook his head.
"Is that him?" His dad called from the front room.
"He, he couldn't get it, John. I'll pop down instead, shall I?" She said in a falsely cheer voice.
"No you wont." He said in a terrifyingly calm voice. "Send the lazy sod in here."
"Please don't hurt him, John." She said standing between Mickey and his dad.
"Do you want to feel my fist again, woman."
"Mum, stand back, I can handle this."
"Think you can take me on do you, lad?"
"I'm not scared of you. 'Cos you, you're a coward, going around hittin' women. Well not any more. You won't hurt her again."
"Come on then, get in here." Mickey stepped forwards and shut the door, blocking his mum's view.
"Go on then, hit me." His father taunted.
Mickey clenched his fist and swung his arm forwards wildly. He was so scared that he missed his intended target and received a blow from his father instead. His fist collided with the side of his head knocking him sideways and to the floor.
"Get up." His father shouted. "Be a man."
Mickey managed to stand back up but before he was able to get his balance was knocked to the ground by his father again. Mickey tried to protect his head as a wave of kicks rained down on him.
"Get up." His father repeated. Mickey couldn't stand again, he rolled onto his side spitting blood out of his mouth. His father grabbed his son by the collar of his school shirt and pulled him into the kneeling position. Mickey stayed in the position and continued spitting blood out of his mouth.
His father took of his belt. "No." Mickey gasped catching sight of the leather and then the shiny buckle at the end. His father bent down to pull up his shirt. He screamed when the first blow hit the bare skin at the bottom of his back. He some how managed to hold his tongue when the second came, it felt like his skin had been ripped open and he could feel warm blood dripping down his back. The third blow was too much, as the metal connected with his skin he fell forwards as unconsciousness took him.
---
"Mickey, can you here me?" A voice said finding it's was through the clouds of Mickey consciousness.
Mickey opened his eyes and blinked at his surroundings with confusion. He was outside, he could feel the grass underneath him and Jack was knelt over him, a look of concern on his face.
"It's alright, you've had a bit of a bang on the head." Jack said.
"Where am I?" Mickey asked frowning.
"You're in the park, Mickey, you were arresting a suspect, he got the better of you." Jack replied looking bemused.
Mickey sat up slowly rubbing his back, all he felt was the slightly raised scars which remained from his fathers final assault.
It was just memories.