My dad had just left the army when we all moved back in with him. He’d gone back to Surrey and was living in a bedsit. Because of the circumstances and the fact that he now had four boys to raise, the council re-housed him and moved us all into a three bedroomed house. We lived in the rougher part of a nice area and for a few years, despite not having a mum, we had an idyllic childhood. The trauma that had affected our young lives, mostly forgotten. My dad was a good man and worked nights as a nightclub bouncer and as a security guard so he could be there for us during the day. But he’d never gotten over my mum leaving him and he’d never recovered from her death. He’d always drunk, it was the reason she left him, but gradually, by the time I was about eight or nine, he was drunk all the time. He lost his jobs, which just gave him more time to drink. My two eldest brothers got out as soon as they turned sixteen and were working. Miles didn’t actually mind living at home, my dad ignored him for the most part, but me, he’d take a swing at me every time I walked past him. I’ve no idea what I’d done to suddenly make him hate me so much. If I could have afforded it, I’d have moved out as soon as I turned sixteen too. But I wanted to go to college so I could study music, and I did for a while, but then once me and Meebs had come up with our plan to run away, I’d packed in college, started working and saved every penny that I could. I spent as little time as possible at home and as my dad was usually at the pub or unconscious on the sofa, we rarely came into contact with each other.
I was seen by countless counsellors after my mum’s death, but I didn’t have anything to tell them. I couldn’t remember a thing. I dreamt about her often. I dreamt about the scruffy man with the tattoos, how he pulled up her nightshirt, held on to her hair and laid down on her back as he moved his hips backwards and forwards. His jeans were pulled down slightly and in my dream, she’d scream silently. He’d put his hand over her mouth and pull her hair harder. She kept her eyes open and just stared at me the whole time, putting her finger to her lips, warning me to be quiet. I’d squashed myself into a space between the wall and the end of the sofa. I often dream of the same man sitting on my mum’s chest, he smacks her around the face a few times, blood running from the corner of her mouth, but she just keeps her eyes on me. It’s almost as if in this dream, I remember the other dream, I remember that she warned me to keep quiet. So, I stayed in my hiding spot and I stayed quiet and I watched as he squeezed his hands around her throat until she stopped moving, her eyes bulging out of her head, looking right at me. I have no idea if I dreamed what I’d actually witnessed or if it’s what my brain has invented, but it never changes, it’s the same two dreams all the time and sometimes both scenes become part of one dream. The so called ‘experts’ had no idea if I’d just blanked it all out, or if I genuinely didn’t see anything. The dreams and occasional flashbacks told me that I’d probably seen it all, but I kept quiet, keeping it to myself. I didn’t want anyone else poking around inside my head and I didn’t want my brothers to have to know what I saw that day, so I just stayed quiet, kept it locked away.
They’d caught the man responsible the very same day. I picked his picture out of a book and told the nice lady that gave me Fruit Pastilles and Smarties that he was the man that came to our house that morning. He was the man that I opened the door to, but that was all I told her about that day. My evidence, combined with the DNA they’d removed from the scene and my mum’s body, was enough to convict him. He’s dead now. Died in prison but I still keep it all locked away.
“Why did you tell him you were leaving the band, Reed? I don’t understand why you would say that to him?” I knock back the drink in my shaking hand while Lawson repeats his question.
“Did he start with the relationship shit again, Reed?” Gunner asks. He was the only one I’d ever confided in about Jet’s propositions. We’d caught up in England a couple of years ago while the band were on a break and I’d told him all about it after Jet had bombarded me with a series of texts, declaring his undying love.
I nod my head. I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat, but I don’t cry. I learnt not to cry after the first few beatings my dad gave me.
“What relationship shit?” Lawson asks.
I take a deep breath and try to speak without my voice wobbling, “Jet, he wanted… He had this idea that me and him should be together.”
“What the fuck? What, you mean like together, together?” Dom asks. I nod my head, which is now pounding with a headache. Lawson’s phone rings and he heads out into the living area of the suite, talking to someone about a press release and waiting until family members have been notified.
Dom’s phone rings next and he looks across at me as he speaks, “No baby, it’s Jet. Reed’s fine. Well, not fine, he found him but he’s safe.” He covers his eyes with his hand and starts to cry as he explains to Jade, his wife, what’s happened. He stands and walks into the bathroom as he talks. Gunner and I stare at each other in silence for a few seconds.
“Someone needs to let his dad know,” I say.
“I think that’s what Laws is arranging.”
“You told Chelsea?” I ask him.
He nods. “I told her while you were still in with the old Bill. Her mum and dad are flying over to look after the kids while we get this all sorted out.”
Fuck, we were supposed to fly home today. I can’t go anywhere until I go to the police station and they take a full statement, they’ve already told me that. Then there’ll be the funeral.
“The press are gonna be a nightmare with all this happening. I wanted to send the kids home, but Chels wanted them close.” His eyes come up to meet mine. “You okay, have you called home to let anyone know? Chels said social media are going off about what’s happened. Most are reporting that it’s you or Jet. You should let your brothers and your dad know.”