Day #8: Come Together by Amber Averay
The blood is sticky on my hands. Sweat drips into my eyes, trickles down my neck. The heat is oppressive, my head is pulsing. Christmas lights flickering on someone’s tree splash over the dry garden, the only colour on the patches of brown, dead grass.
Well, not the only colour. Blood streaks over the pavement, red, brown, pink. Thick, coagulating, sticky. It’s on my hands, under my nails, seeping into the treads of my shoes. I want to be sick, I can’t do it, I clamp a hand over my mouth to hold everything in but nothing silences my pathetic whimpers, my panicked gasps of breath.
It was an accident! I didn’t mean to do it, but he was in my face and kept on at me and it was all I could do. I was just going to push him away, but the knife was somehow in my hand and the next thing I was punching it into his gut, thud, thud, thud. I didn’t mean to! Now he’s dead, and I don’t know what to do. I’m in trouble, I’m going to gaol, I’m going to lose everything.
I am still kneeling by the body, my sweat dripping over him, his blood soaking into the knees of my jeans, when footsteps thunder toward me. I can’t move, I can’t leave the body. This is my fault.
I’m shaking, my bones rattling. Stomach churning, roiling, sour and sickly.
It was an accident! I didn’t mean to. I didn’t.
Hands grab my shoulders, pull me back from the body. An urgent voice speaks to me, muffled as if coming from a distance away, but slowly both face and voice of the speaker become clear. ‘Len, what have you done? Len! Look at me, look at me, what’s happened?’
‘I’m sorry, Jay, I’m sorry!’ I start blubbering, holding my glistening hands up so the flickering Christmas tree lights play over them through the window. It’s hot, so hot, I imagine the body is starting to smell already – but it can’t be, can it? Not yet.
Oh fuck, it’s me – I’ve pissed myself. That’s the smell. I didn’t mean to do that, either! Now my brother’s really going to belt me one. I try to cower from the fury I expect to see in his face, but all that’s there is disappointment and stern calculation. I’ve seen that expression when he’s trying to work equations.
Behind him come other family members. Most don’t like me. They say I’m slow, stupid, dumb. An idiot. I’m not! I just screw up sometimes, accidents happen! Everybody makes mistakes. Right? Nobody’s perfect.
Jay squeezes my shoulders in his great ham-fists and stares into my eyes until I calm down enough to listen to his voice. ‘Len, pay attention. You listening? Are you listening?’
I nod, hiccoughing, feeling another ribbon of urine trickle down my leg. The tears dripping from my chin. Jay ignores it all, just stares into my eyes. ‘Baz is taking you home, alright? The rest of us will clean up. Baz will get you home.’
‘Not Baz!’ I try to squirm from my brother’s grasp, but he’s too strong. And even though his face doesn’t show it, he’s angry. I can tell. I can always tell. ‘Baz doesn’t like me, Jay! He kicks me when you’re not there.’
‘He won’t hurt you,’ Jay assures me, shooting a warning look at Baz. Most people are scared of Jay when that expression crosses his face. Baz is no different, deferentially nodding his head and looking like he wished he could stay with the cleanup crew. ‘Now Baz is taking you home, and you’ll get tidied up and order pizza or something and you and Baz will wait for us. Ok?’ He waits. ‘Ok? Len, pay attention. Do you hear me?’
I nod, pathetically, like a puppy determined to please the alpha. ‘Yes, I heard, Jay. I’ll do that. I can order takeaway. I can ring the places.’
‘Baz will use an app. Just tell him what you want.’ His face hardens, and he says sternly, ‘You were never here, Ok? If Baz has to help scrub you clean, he’ll do it. Turn the hose on you out the back, put you through a carwash, I don’t care so long as you clean up. Right?’
While Jay talks our two younger brothers and a few cousins get to work. They start by putting on gloves, covering their shoes, moving the dead guy. Carl grabs the hose and turns it up full blast, streaming jets of water over the pavement, the ground, everywhere.
Baz grabs my elbow and starts hauling me toward the road. He’s hurting me, and I cry for Jay. ‘These guys don’t like me, Jay! They don’t like me. Why will they help me? They’ll hurt me later!’
Jay motions for Baz to stop walking, and strolls over to me, hands thrust into his pockets. The guys are all working silently, quickly, as if they’ve done this before. ‘Len, they won’t do shit to you. Right? You made a mistake, and they’re helping us clean it up. That’s what family’s for, right? Come together when we need it, help when it’s important. So fuck off already and clean yourself up, and let us do this.’ He sighs, juts his chin toward the corner of the street. ‘Get him home, Baz. We’ve got it under control here.’
‘I didn’t mean to do it, Jay!’ I cry as Baz pulls me across the road. ‘It was an accident! He was talking too loud, and I didn’t mean to!’
‘Shut up, Len,’ I hear my brother growl. There’s shattering glass, and the last thing I see before Baz drags me round the corner is the security light breaking and glass sprinkling everywhere.
It looks pretty with the colourful Christmas lights still flashing…
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