The Awakening (41 page)

At home, I’d wind my dad up so he’d hit me instead of mum. She was so small and frail. Course, she tried to stop him, but I made her promise not to. Rather me than her. So he’d beat me and in turn I’d take out my anger on the kids at school. I guess I became a bully. By the time I turned fifteen, I’d already been expelled from three schools. The son of a bitch finally died from alcohol poisonin’ when I was sixteen. It felt strange, after so much physical and mental abuse, to suddenly be...free.

Me and Mum built a new life together. I dropped out of school and worked a few dead end jobs over the years to help pay the rent. I thought things would be okay - but I was wrong. There was a darkness growin’ inside of me. I could feel it bubbling away below the surface. I found it almost impossible to control my anger. It meant I couldn’t hold a job down for long - the smallest thing would set me off. Once, at a pub I worked at, I launched my manager over the bar, all because he had a go at me for being late.

Lucky for me, my mum could see that I was headin’ the same route as him. So as much as it killed her to see me go, she convinced me to join the army. Best decision I ever made. It gave me a channel to focus my anger into. The structure kept me in line and I learned to respect authority. Plus, cos digs and food was free, I could afford to send most of my wages home. I progressed fast, made Sergeant in less than three years. The hardest part was that I only got to see Mum four or five times a year. The Gulf war was in full swing and I was constantly bein’ dispatched out to that hell hole.

But Mum was doing good, had a nice little two bedroom place just outside Brighton. She never dated again - she was too scarred for that - but she made quite a few good friends and even set up a book club. I was happy for her. But I wasn’t happy for me. Somethin was missing. I had no clue what it was until I was on summer leave and saw her walking along the beachfront. I don’t know if you believe in love at first sight Alex, I never did until I laid eyes on her. Petit and perfect. Wavy golden hair and the most beautiful hazel eyes ever saw. Incredible.

She was singing to herself as she walked. She had the most beautiful voice, like an angel. For a moment all the darkness trapped inside me vanished - like her voice chased it away. It was replaced by a feeling so intense and wonderful I can’t even begin to explain it. As she passed by, she stopped singing for a moment and gave the sweetest little smile. I literally went weak at the knees. I knew right then and there that this was the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. She was way out of my league and I knew it. But I had to do
something.
There was no way I could go back to my normal life- not now I’d seen her. It would have killed me.

I ran after her, panting and red as a friggin’ beetroot. Somehow amongst my babblin’, I managed to ask her out for a coffee. I’d been through all kinds of nightmares in Kuwait; shot at by rebels, driven through a field of landmines, had a gun to my head – you name it. But I’d never experienced fear like I did in that moment, waiting for her answer. But she just smiled and linked arms with me.

We were inseparable after that. Her name was Maria Quinn - an artist from Ireland. I called her Cass on account that she was always singing
songbird
, you know that one by Eva Cassidy? She called me… sorry you don’t need to know this, it’s only when I start talking about her... Anyway, I’d found my soul mate. When I was around her, the world seemed to take on a special glow. I couldn’t get angry if I wanted to. All of the bad crap had been washed away. Cass made me feel special, like I was actually worth somethin’. She didn’t care that I wasn’t clever - that I was rough around the edges - she loved me for who I was.

I moved into her little studio apartment by the beach. I used to watch her paint - it was mesmerising. She seemed to be able to capture the beauty of things on the canvas.

The time came for her to meet my mum. I was so nervous I actually puked before we left the house. The only two women I’d ever loved were gonna meet for the first time. If they hated each other, my world would have fallen apart. They couldn’t have got on any better. Mum loved Cass to pieces. I remember, I was making everyone a cup of tea when she came in to the kitchen and said, ‘she’s the one,’ and walked back out. I started crying. I don’t know why really, it think it’s because at that moment, life couldn’t have been more perfect.

But it couldn’t last forever. I got orders that I had to leave for Kuwait the following week. It ripped me apart inside. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t bear to leave Cass behind. I told her I’d go AWOL, but she refused to let me. Said it didn’t matter, that she would love me no matter where I was and that she’d be waiting whenever I came back.

The next day, Mum took me to her room and pulled up a floorboard. Inside was boxful of money. She’d kept half of everything I’d ever given her from my wages. There was over fifteen grand in there. She pressed it against my chest and told me to build a new life for me and Cass. The look in her eye told me that nothin’ I said or did would make her change her mind.

That same day I bought an engagement ring. I picked the prettiest one the store sold. Cost me three G’s, but nothing was too good for her. The night before I was due to fly out, I took her to our favourite restaurant on the waterfront. I’d set up this big thing -total cheese, but I didn’t care. I paid the owner to let me put a rented piano at the end, by our table. I hired a pianist and a singer to perform
songbird
at the end of our meal and dropped to one knee right there in the restaurant. My heart was in my mouth. I thought I was gonna pass out.

Cass started crying and I panicked. But when she looked up she was smiling and she said the word that right then was the most beautiful in the English language. The restaurant went wild, everyone clapped and cheered while we hugged and kissed. The ring was a perfect fit. Later we walked hand in hand along the beachfront, like the first day we had met. It was the first of two of the best days in my life.

The second came a year later, when my little girl was born. Cass and I had been married six months. I was finishing my rotation in Kuwait and Cass was living with my mum, so that she could support her during the last stages of the pregnancy. I’d been back for three days when her water broke - during a game of monopoly. While I was runnin’ around frantic, she laughed and said it was her plan to stop me winning.

We rushed her to the hospital and the birth was smooth as silk. Only four hours in labour and no epidural needed. Already my angel was considerate. When I got to hold her, she wrapped her tiny little fingers around my thumb and stared at me with these big hazel eyes. For the second time in my life, it was love at first sight. I vowed to be the best damn father ever. Cass said we should name her Joy - after my mum. It was perfect, because it was also what she’d brought to our lives.

I put a deposit on a house down the road from mum’s and for eight years, everything was perfect. I managed to get myself an admin job in the Army. It was pretty boring, mainly paper-pushin’, but it meant being around all my girls more, so I couldn’t have cared less. I got to see my little baby grow up into a clever, beautiful young girl. She was an amazin singer, obviously inherited from Cass, I couldn’t hold a note if you paid me. Plus she loved to play around. Her favourite game was climbing on my shoulders and making me spin her around until she got dizzy. The sound of her laugh could have melted a heart made of ice. She... sorry, I just need a second.

Joy was everything her name suggests. Absolute light of my life. I spoiled her rotten. I’d always come home with little gifts. Cass used to nag me for it, but I couldn’t help it. I loved her so much. Nothing made me happier than seeing her little face light up in excitement. But she never became spoiled, not like some of the little brats you see around. No, she was so caring and thoughtful. My life was perfect. The darkness had well and truly gone. When I was with my three girls, I felt like the luckiest man on the planet.

But happiness is a slippery thing. It lets you hold it for a while - me longer than most and then it wriggles free and misery takes its place.

First it was my Mum’s breast cancer. Her doctor discovered the lump too late. It was stage four. She rejected the chemo, it would only have prolonged the inevitable anyway. She said she’d spent so long being weak and afraid, that she wanted to go out with some dignity. She faded fast. The disease had her in the hospital only a month later. I’ve always wondered if it’s the knowing that does it. I mean if she’d never known, would she have lived longer?

Anyway...Joy was only eight at the time, so we left her with a close neighbour and stayed at the hospital. When the end came, we held Mum’s hands as she faded away. Right before her final breath, she lifted our hands to her face and kissed them. Then she died.

The next few months were a total blur. I took compassionate leave from the Army and stumbled around in a daze. I’d pick up the phone and actually dial her number, before realising she wouldn’t answer. Cass moved us into my Mum’s house, even though it was too small for us. She knew I needed to keep the memories of her alive.

Somehow, my two girls pulled me from the mire. Cass was patient and understanding, she put her own grief on hold to help me through mine. She was my rock. Even Joy seemed to understand what I was going through. She would just sit on my lap for hours and hug me while I cried. Eventually I was able to come to terms with it.

That was the first of two of the worst days of my life.

The second came three years later. I woke up on the thirteenth of August two thousand and four, with the crushing feeling that something awful was going to happen.

I’d agreed to go on a short logistical tour of Iraq to help out - all pretty safe. I was due to go home later that day. I couldn’t eat my breakfast, I felt sick. I called as soon as I could to check my girls were okay. They were fine. I couldn’t work out what was wrong. I stayed well behind neutral territory and even neglected some of my duties to keep me out of any possible firing line.
I kept thinking, if I die, who’s gonna look after my girls?

I spent the entire plane journey back in a state of constant panic. Every bit of turbulence would make me break out in a cold sweat. I called them four more times from the plane. Cass could sense my distress and grew nervous herself. She asked me what she should do. I told her not to come and meet me at the airport like she had planned, but to stay at home and lock the doors and windows.

I touched down at ten in the evening. The overwhelming sensation of dread was growing stronger to the point I was almost sick a few times.

My hands were shaking as I drove, the feeling was so intense, it was all I could do not to scream. I drove home at well over a ton in the pouring rain. Then the friggin’ piece of crap car gave out a good ten minutes away. I jumped out and sprinted the rest. Made it home at ten to twelve. As soon as I got to the house I could tell something was wrong.

The door was open.

There was no way Cass would have left it like that after hearing how upset I was. The house was dark. I tried to switch the lights on, but they wouldn’t work. It was real quiet. All I could hear was the dripping sound from my clothes. I called out. There was a scrambling sound from upstairs. Something heavy - moving fast. My blood turned to ice. I called out again but there was no answer.

I knew that whatever had been bothering me was happening, now...in my house. I ran upstairs and burst into the bedroom. Alex, it was unbearable.

M-my precious girls were heaped in a pile on the floor. There were cuts all over their bodies. Their wrists had been slashed. They were bleeding out right in front of my eyes. Cass had attempted to cover Joy to protect her from whatever had attacked them, but it was pointless.

There was so much blood. It was everywhere. Pools on the floorboards, splashed on the walls. Even the ceiling. Some of it had been used to write the words
Chosen must die
on the mirror. I had no clue what it meant, and I didn’t care. I only cared that my girls were dying.

I ran over to help them and that’s when I saw it.

The thing stepped out from the shadows in the corner of the room. A Banshee. It had this rough, papery skin and these slick black eyes, like solid oil. Long, lank hair that reached the floor and left a trail of slime as the thing moved. Its mouth was all twisted up and filled with thousands of these needle teeth. And the smell. Christ, the smell. Sickly sweet, like turd covered in syrup. But its hands were the worst part by far. The thing had these spindly fingers the length of an arm that curved at the ends into razor nails.

They were stained red with the blood of my family.

It gave me this teasing smile and then sucked their blood off its fingers with slow pops. I looked at the evil bitch and back at the mangled mess of my family - my life, and the darkness returned. It hadn’t gone. It had hidden away, waiting until it was needed again. It was needed then. I felt rage the likes of which I’d never felt before. It was like a white hot fire of pure hatred.

The Banshee must ave sensed my fury, because it screamed. When a banshee screams, it’s the worst noise you could imagine. It’s the cries of a million tortured souls. Pray to God you never experience it. Only those it wants can hear the sound, so no one can help you. Its hair fanned out as if it had been electrocuted. The sound brought me to my knees. I started to haemorrhage blood from everywhere.

For a minute I was frozen - bleeding to death. Then I saw my blood trickle into and mix with the blood of my girls.

The darkness took over. Somehow, I managed to summon enough strength to stagger over. Then I grabbed it and started smashing it with my fists for everything I was worth, screamin’. It lashed out, most hits missed, but one connected, removing most of the skin from this side of my face and blinding me in one eye. The pain didn’t even register. I grabbed its throat and with a strength I didn’t know I possessed, ripped out it’s larynx. Then screams became a gurgle and the slashing turned into pathetic taps, but I didn’t stop. Because it couldn’t scream any more, my attacks were stronger. I punched, bit and kicked until there was nothing left but lumps of meat and slime.