Heavensgate - Hope E-Book

Leo Kane

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

When Jacob is a child, a mysterious girl comforts him at the funeral of the family he accidentally killed.  Years later, grieving for his lost wife and son, Jacob is at Heavensgate. He believes that the dead should stay dead, but sees things other people don’t see.

Even worse, Jacob is besieged by his alter ego: the foul-mouthed, sex-crazed and dangerous Jake; a personality with a twisted sense of fun and no conscience. Jacob battles for his sanity and soul, surrounded by supernatural enemies and allies, as he struggles to free the Keeper of the Forbidden Book and ignore the menacing pink Cadillac that drives by his lakeside lodge every night.

Wherever Jacob goes, people die, and the cops are moving in when a terrifying and seductive presence arrives on the frozen lake. Now, Jacob will discover that even hope has a dark side.

This book contains graphic sex and violence, and is not suitable for readers under the age of 18.

Leseprobe

Heavensgate - Hope

Heavensgate Book 1

Leo Kane

Copyright (C) 2015 Leo Kane

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2021 by Next Chapter

Published 2021 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Lordan June Pinote

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

http://hgleokane.wix.com/heavensgate

David, like a unicorn of many colours you are all I know.

'The very purpose of our life is happiness, which is sustained by hope. We have no guarantee about the future but we exist in the hope of something better.'Dalai Lama(edited)

'When everything was beautiful and I felt no pain you were here, but then darkness fell and everything hurt, I miss you.'Jacob

'Fuck off and get a fuckin' life.'Jake

Chapter One

1978 -THE FIRST GOODBYE-

My name is Jacob, but Mom calls me her Wacky Jacky because she says I am her funny little man. I don't feel funny today though, I feel scared.

I am seven and three quarter years old and I am standing in the pouring rain with a lot of people I do not know. Mom always says, 'If you don't know them from Adam, son, don't talk to them.' So I don't. I'm not sure if this is 'stranger danger' like Dad says or not, but I am on red alert.

My horrible new, shiny black, lace-up shoes are slowly sinking in the brown grassy mud. My face is cold, but my hands are all hot and wet from being held by two grown ups that Uncle Jim says are here especially for me. They are the Child Care Ladies and they are both fat. This is yuk, holding hands is sissy.

These stupid socks are new too, they are too big, they are 'you will grow into them' socks. I won't. I will hide them under the bed instead. I don't know why the two fat ladies even bothered to put my feet in these socks, they are long and white like girls' socks and they are slipping down in my shoes.

I am bored with it all, I want to play jump in the puddles instead.

Somebody is snivelling. I don't snivel. I am a big kid now, I'm nearly a man. Uncle Jim told me, while we were riding in the front of the long black car with the big wooden boxes in the back, he said,

'I know you aren't yet eight years old, Jacky, but this means you will have to grow up quick, kid, be a man and be brave and no more playing with fire, not ever, you hear me?'

Poo, his breath smells all smoky.

'I am brave, Uncle Jim, you know I'm brave. I looked at them lying in the boxes in the parlour, didn't I?'

They looked back at me; the twins gave me nasty looks.

I can't wait to grow up and not be bossed around. I like the driver's hat, it's raining what dad calls 'cats and dogs.' The driver man will need his hat today.

Ow, ow, ow. My arms ache. My feet are cold like popsicles in these horrible shoes and I am so bored with the church man. Everyone is looking at him because he's wearing a lady's long black and white frilly dress with a girl's scarf. He has a silly face too, and real big teeth like a donkey and now he's reading a story from a little red book. It's no fun at all, he's telling us about dust and ashes and it's worse than even Miss Turnbull's boring old history class.

I am a good kid, I already waited for him to shut up in church. I said our father's prayer and I even sang about Grace who is amazing, even though I don't know why she is amazing, but I still can't go home.

I have super powers, I can escape.

Faster than a speeding bullet I pull away from the big hands holding mine and take a giant step away from the grown-ups. I am ready, steady to run for it, in a flash I will disappear into the sky like Superman. I wish I was wearing my sneakers. These socks have had it.

I look back to see if they are going to chase me down like the bad guy in cops and robbers, but apart from the fatties who are bothering Uncle Jim they are all staring at the big hole in the ground.

Someone kind has really tried their best to make that dark hole look nice by covering the edges with pretend grass, like the plastic stuff at the mini golf and burger joint, where me and dad go to escape Mom and the babies.

It's not foolin' me.

I run away as fast as I can, oh no, oops, I slipped down in the mud next to a big old stone. My butt hurts, I want my Mom, I won't cry, I won't.

A pretty girl with long silver hair has sneaked up and sat down next to me on the cold squishy ground. She smells of parma violet candy. I ask her if she knows what is so amazing about Grace and she laughs but no sound comes out of her mouth. I don't think she can talk, that's OK. She takes hold of my hand and I don't mind.

Me and the girl just sit quietly in the mud watching the rain fall all around us. She is dry, but I am getting wetter and wetter. The girl points at the sky and I see a magic rainbow. She points at herself, at me, at the rainbow and then she gets a stick and draws a clock and a heart in the mud.

I don't know this game, but I borrow her stick and draw a really big heart next to hers. I put a 'J´ on it for Jacob. The girl has just kissed me on my cheek, I feel silly.

I don't like girls.

Jim has found us. He puts his hands under my armpits and lifts me back up onto my muddy feet. He says,

'Hey, kid, your new socks and shoes are ruined.'

'I don't like them, Uncle Jim.'

'Well then that's a real good job you gone an' done on 'em, Jacky.'

Jim is very tall like a tree. He leans over me and I see a raindrop hanging on the end of his nose. I want to laugh, but I know that this is 'no laughing matter.'

He cups my chin in his big hand; my tummy hurts and I feel upset because he looks so sad. Mom says that Jim has a 'bad chest' so he can't help it that he's coughing in my face. His breath smells of his smokes.

'Come on, Jacky boy, no more scampering off. You have to pay your last respects. It's time to say goodbye to Mom and Dad and your little brother and sister. When you've done that, Uncle Jim will take you to Aunty Mary's house for milk and cookies. I think she has a big ole tyre swing in the yard for good kids like you.'

Jim must be very upset because he is talking posh today. Dad says Jim talks posh when he is cross or upset and on the phone. It makes Dad laugh.

I don't want to upset Uncle Jim. Like Momma always says when I hurt myself falling down, I am her brave injun. So I nod my head and smile at the pretty girl still sat in the mud next to the big stone with the angel on the top. That angel reminds me of the one Dad lifted me up to put on our Christmas tree, but this one is lots bigger and not shiny.

The girl smiles and waves bye to me and I can hear her voice ringing like tiny silver bells jingling in my head. I can smell parma violet candy too.

Jim and me are nearly back at the big hole and the beautiful girl is walking slowly behind us.

In my head she says, 'Jacky, turn around, look.'

I feel so scared. I need to pee. I whisper, 'No, please, I don't want to see, please don't make me look.'

Jim says, 'It's OK, Jacob, really it's OK, kid. Don't be afraid, Uncle Jim is right here.'

So I look back at the girl. I am brave even though I'm real scared too.

She speaks in my head again, 'See you soon, sweetie. I have your heart in my hands.'

She does, she does have it, it's all wet and slippery. It's the heart I drew with a stick in the mud for her and it's in her hands. That's magic. The boy in my head starts to cry.

I want my heart back, get it back please, Jacob, don't leave it with her.

I don't want to leave her, but I have to go. I'm holding Jim's big hand and I let him take me back to the strangers who are shivering under huge, wet, black umbrellas, crowding around the scary hole in the ground.

They are all staring at me. The ladies are crying and saying 'poor mite,' 'poor angel,' 'so sad.' Some of them pat me on my wet head as I squeeze past them. Now me and Jim are next to the donkey face man in the dress, he is dripping wet too. I hope no-one sees that I wet my pants. That boy is getting on my nerves. He gives me headaches. He's whining again,

I want to go home now.

I ignore him.

Jim's daughter, Lori, passes me a white rose, she points at the hole.

A thorn pricks my finger, it makes it bleed. I am brave and I don't yelp. I can see the silver haired girl hiding behind the two fat ladies, she's smiling and nodding at me. So I do what they all want, I drop the sharp flower into the hole.

I feel all empty inside.

Chapter Two

1978 -BEFORE-

I am playing cars on the kitchen table with Sam; they are all lined up in neat rows like at the parking lot in town. He's good at parking is Sam, so long as he has Oreos and milk he's pretty much good all the time. Nancy is a girl so, 'she can't help the silly way she is.' That's what Uncle Jim told me, then he said, 'Don't tell yer Momma.'

I didn't tell her, so now I have my first secret ever. It gives me butterflies in my tummy so I may have to tell her, but then she will promise that she won't say a word to Uncle Jim. She won't tell him that I told her and then she will get some butterflies in her tummy and then it will all be my fault. I don't like secrets.

My pretty Momma is singing along to her silly Doris Day record, Que Sera, again, dancing around me and Sam with our little sister on her hip.

Daddy sneaks up behind me, picks me up under one arm and with Sam in the other he swings us around shouting,

'Change the record, let's have some boogie music for me and my boys.'

Momma puts Nancy down on the floor and picks up another record for the machine.

Daddy sets me and Sam back down on our feet and when the music comes on we all shake our butts at each other laughing and singing his favourite song, 'I'm Your Boogie Man,' real loud.

Dad and me are sliding across the polished kitchen floor in our socks, we are just like the dancing man in Grease.

Mom and the twins have fallen down giggling in a pile on the new lino.

'Again again again.'

'More more more.' They are all shouting and clapping me and Dad, so we do it all again.

I love my Dad. My dad is my bestest friend in the whole wide world, but he has to leave for work so, 'No more dancing today sunshine.'

It's after dinner and before bed time now and I am looking for someone to play hide and seek with, but Mom and my baby sis are sleeping cuddled up in dad's big chair.

I look for my little brother, he is fast asleep on the couch nursing his blue teddy bear. There's no-one to play with again. I can't reach the TV up on the shelf, 'away from little fingers,' to turn it on for cartoon time. I'm so bored.

I know what I'll do.

No-one sees me when I push the big bike out of Dad's 'This is a man's world' garage so I am lucky because he'll never know I took it. Dad calls the bike Molly.

Today, Molly smells of oil and chrome polish, I look at her and think she is the best bike in the world.

When I am bigger Molly will be mine anyways so she is really mine now. I can climb up to sit on her brown, shiny leather seat but I can only reach the ground with my very tippy toes. I can't balance properly, I'm all wibbly wobbly. I need to ride real fast so I can balance right.

Today, which is 'International Superhero Ride a Big Bike Day' is really, really sunny. It's too hot, Momma and me hate it when it's too hot, but sometimes we get to play with the garden hose and water pistols, then it's fun.

My friend Callum has a pool. Dad says when he is a rich man he will buy one for each of us and spell our names out in tiles at the bottom. I can't wait for that.

I am too hot and I think that maybe I should put Molly right back where I found her and go back in the house for a nap with Momma and the twins, but her black handlebars feel so nice and cool when I grab onto them.

I am a hero, I am brave, so I push off with my toes and hold on tight, freewheeling down our driveway and onto the road. I am not allowed on the road and big bikes aren't allowed on the sidewalk, so I had to choose. Momma says,

'Jacob, sometimes in life you have to make a choice, when that happens promise me you will always choose right from wrong.'

I think I chose right to go on the road and not run anybody over with Molly.

Miss Jackson is on her front lawn, she looks real funny running up and down and waving at me with both of her hands in the air. I can't wave back, I need both hands on the bike.

It's not so hard to ride Molly, I'm not moving about like a jelly now and I can smell the road burning in the sunshine. I speed down the hill, aiming straight for the air that's swimming hazily at the bottom of the street. Dad says they are called mirages and that they are doors to outer space. Dad never has time to go to space in his car so I fly there like Superman with my legs sticking up and out away from Molly's spinning white pedals. The hot wind is pushing my hair into my eyes and, look, I'm doing a no-hander.

I'm really riding the big bike. No feet and no hands, I must be doing at least a million miles an hour, I'm going faster and faster, faster than I ever did before, I'm flying.

I knew this bike would be great, I just knew it. She's got hot wheels. I'm so happy, and a bit scared like it's all mixed up together, and I feel big like I never felt before. I am Superman and I am zooming into space.

Lookee here it's Mrs Robinson's kitten sitting in the middle of the road, its pink tongue licking its starfish shaped butt-hole, its fluffy white leg sticking up in the air like a ballet dancer. It's so sweet. I grab the handle bars and squeeze the brakes throwing the bike to the left as hard as I can and Superman saves the kitten.

That's it.

Me and Superman wake up in the same smelly hospital where Mom came to get the twins taken out of her tummy.

I smell chewing tobacco too, so I open one eye and sneak a peak at my Dad sitting by this nasty bed. I am hurting quite a lot, but he doesn't look very sad, he looks red hot mad with someone. So I squeeze my eyes shut and make snoring noises.

Dad says in his special, quiet, cross voice,' Don't play possum with me young man. That was an expensive bike and your Mom is very upset.'

'I want my Momma.' I start to cry to put him off.

'Mom is home with the twins, sunshine. What did you think you were playing at, huh? You frightened us.'

'It wasn't me, Dad, it was Superman, he had to save the kitten.'

Dad is smiling now, trying his bestest not to laugh at me and that really makes me want to cry. He says, 'Long time no allowance, son, huh?'

Then he kisses me on the cheek and I am upset because I can feel Daddy's tears on my face.

'How's Molly, Dad?'

'Fuckin' beat, son, but don't repeat that word to your Mom.'

'Dad, I'm truly sorry that I fuckin' beat her.'

We both giggle at the naughty word.

I'm at home now, I've been a prisoner here for a whole week. My left arm is very broken, I have it in a plaster cast. I can't have a bath and I can't go to school. I can't do lots of stuff like climbing trees and fishing in the pond or riding my bike, I don't think I will ever, ever be allowed on Molly again.

I liked it well enough for two days while I had the bad headache and Momma was making a big fuss of me. I was so poorly sick that Mom even shooed the twins out of my room, especially after they scribbled all over my white cast in bright wax crayons. She was very cross as my cast is now exactly the same colours that the twins used on the wallpaper in the hallway. I am bored.

I can hear Doris singing 'Que Sera Sera' over and over again, the stupid needle is stuck on the record player. Everyone in the house is ignoring me as usual. I was sent to bed with no supper for telling Mom that I felt fuckin' bored.

I shout for my Dad and he comes upstairs with a glass of milk and a secret apple, he sits on my bed and says,

'It's your own fault, sunshine. I warned you not to repeat the F word. Let's read this long story about Cowboys and Indians.'

'Dad, please can the kids from school come over to play with me, pleeeese?'

'Jacky, son, don't you think your Mom has enough on with you three monkeys, huh? It's time for a story and sleep and no cussing tomorrow, huh?'

Today is: 'A fresh start for good boys.' Mom said at breakfast time. Now it's siesta time and Dad is asleep in his squishy armchair with his head under the newspaper. Mom is napping on their big bed with the twins; even the que sera lady, who dad calls “Doris Everydamnday,” is quiet.

I creep like a mouse to the kitchen, push a stool against the worktop and climb up looking for chocolate cookies in the tall cupboard. No cookies, but I found me a big box of long matches instead.

I am what Dad calls, 'A man with a plan.'

I am gonna sneak outside into the back yard and, at the bottom of the big tree, I'm gonna build me a real, proper, camp fire so I can send smoke signals to my Braves. I am the Chief of my Indian Tribe.

I got a feathered head dress as a “Get well soon and don't be a damn fool again,” gift from Uncle Jim and I got me a really big bow and arrows too. I have a set of noisy bongos from last Christmas, I may need them.

I can't use the bow and arrows yet seeing as how I've only got one stupid arm. Anyhowum no problemum for great big Indian Chief, I can light a fire and I can send smoke and one handed drum messages to my tribe. I will say

I am bored, um

I am lonely, um.

Come um to the pow-wow

with Big Chief Plaster Cast.

Then I will do a rain dance and whoop around to put the fire out.

I have managed to escape from the cowboys' fort without waking the enemy. I pile up the twigs and leaves as best I can. It's hard doing this job with one arm, them dirty cowboys done shot the other one clean offa me.

I pull one long match out of the box, then I strike it quickly on a stone and throw it onto the pile of dry stuff.

I had matches and now I have fire.

Chapter Three

1980 -THE FIRST CUT IS THE DEEPEST-

Aunty Mary and her hubby, Big Al, live in an old wooden house with a porch running all the way around the outside and they have a huge back yard, it's as big as a field.

The house is full of kids, the yard is full of pets, there are two sandpits, climbing trees and even an old tyre swing. It's brilliant.

I have my own room, full of my own stuff, right next door to Mary and her 'Mr Lover Man'. Mary is small and pretty, I think, Big Al is big and tall, the older kids call him Darth Vader, they say he dresses up like the Dark Lord and walks around the shopping mall every Saturday afternoon with Storm Troopers and robots. I don't know what to believe anymore.

Lots of kids live here for a while but mostly they don't stay that long. Sometimes the lucky ones leave when they get adopted by 'a loving couple,' when they get 'a new Mommy and Daddy who will always love them.'

I don't know why, but nobody wants to adopt me and none of the kids ever play with me more than once or twice. I don't care, I play with the rabbits and the guinea pigs that live in the hutches instead and I mess around inside their big fenced off run. I shoot my super hero pea gun at the cats.

My best thing is hiding in the tree and frightening the dog. I drop small pebbles down onto fur face when he runs over for a pee on the tree trunk. It's so funny.

Oh, and on weekdays I go to school in town. I hate it there.

Aunty Mary loves me. She says she loved me since she first set eyes on me. She lets me suck her titties at night.

I have been living here forever. I still miss my Mom and Dad and the twins. I still cry at night.

There's no point crying over spilt milk. Man up, move on.

School hasn't gotten any more fun lately, in fact, since the 'disgraceful incident' with the paint spray yesterday, it's probably quite a lot worse.

This is why Aunty Mary and I are stood at attention in Principal Compton's office. I am on my best behaviour, trying to look as if I am really sorry for the dirty words I spray painted on the gymnasium wall, but I'm not sorry at all. Anyway that big dick that I used as an exclamation mark was art, the whole class thinks so.

I am a hero to my friends, so I am not telling anyone that I can't remember doing it.

They found me with the spray can in my hand and it looks like my work so I am claiming it as a Jacob Andersen original.

I don't give a damn how much trouble I'm in.

Mary is all red in the face and her neck is blotchy, she looks mad as hell with the Principal. The man is a living fool to mess with her but, unwary, he sits confidently behind his maple wood desk and the silver framed photos of his ugly kids and wife.

Taking in a deep breath and sticking his flabby chest out like a proud cockerel he points his index finger at Mary and says in his deep, booming, listen to me I am the big man voice,

'No more chances, one bad apple ruins the barrel Miss Barrington. Jacob is no longer welcome at my school.' He exhales loudly and whisky fumes fill the room.

Mary is furious now, Cranky Cockeyed Compton better watch out, I think. I have to keep glancing down at my feet and biting my bottom lip so as not to smile at him.

Mary lets rip in that quiet, threatening, tone of voice that can make a grown man feel five years old again, or so Al says.

'Your school now is it? Let's see what the Mayor has to say about that you disgraceful stinking bag of gas. You reek so bad you make flatulence blush like a virgin at the school Prom.'

Compton huffs angrily and tries to stand up from behind his desk when, quick as a shot, tiny Mary leans right across the desk top, scattering picture frames on her way, and prods him hard in his chest with one long, viciously pointed, red fingernail.

'I tell you,' prod, 'Jacky is a good kid.' Prod.

'Yes, he makes childish mistakes and plays silly pranks,' double prod, 'but he is a brave and loving kid who has suffered enough.' Very hard prod.

Compton is welded to his chair, behind his thick, beer bottle spectacles his eyes are round like saucers. He appears hypnotised by the sight of Mary's perfectly manicured nail stabbing at his flabby chest and by the sound of her quiet husky voice as he is thoroughly chastised.

I also think that he is looking at her tits sunshine.

I smell Rive Gauche drift around the muggy office every time she raises her arm.

The Principal is all red in the face and sweating like bacon in a fry pan. I am staring straight at him now, but I can't help it. There is something so bad and dangerous about Aunty Mary in a rage that it's truly exciting to watch.

'I don't know what you lot of so called fuckin' educationalists,' prod, 'do here to make him act up like you say he does,' prod, 'in this godforsaken hole,' double prod, 'but you should look to yourselves.' Prod.

'You deluded shits.'

Final prod and a flourishing slap up the side of the Principal's head that knocks his stupid, plastic, tortoiseshell brown specs off his fat nose. Then Mary steps smartly behind the desk and quick as a flash she reaches into his top drawer. I swear that woman is psychic, you can't hide anything from Mary.

I stare in wonder as she triumphantly pulls out a quart bottle of whisky, twists the top off and while staring him down she takes a long leisurely swig, before dousing him with the rest.

'No drinking on duty dickwad.'

I am cheering inside.

Dickwad. She said Dickwad and she said Fuckin' and she said Shit. She slapped the old fuck upside the head. I am crying with joy.

Wow, go girl. I think, and I'm just about to openly admire her with my best smile when she grabs my hand and drags me from Compton's office and right the way out of school.

My feet don't touch the ground as Mary pulls me across the parking lot. For a small woman she sure is strong, the Force is definitely with her today. She throws my backpack into the rear seat of her little blue motor and practically Frisbees me in after it. Then she shouts,

'Which car belongs to that pompous fucking bastard?'

I point at the Principal's shiny black Chevy saloon.

I fuckin' swear what she did next was awesome.

Mary stormed over to the Chevy knowing that its proud owner was watching from his window. Staring insolently right back at him, using that high heeled sashaying walk she has, Mary the Magnificent slowly keyed that expensive new car right down the driver's side, her tongue was flicking back and forth across her lipstick red lips as she did it.

Talk about reckless, insolent beauty, honestly, I was speechless with pride.

I had a stiffy from all of the excitement.

Then Mary slid slowly into our car and accelerated away, tyres squealing as she screamed,

'Don't fuck with me cocksucker.' out of the window.

She drove us away like the devil was on her back. We arrived home faster than the speed of light. I dared to open just one eye to check that I was still in one piece as she said very quietly and calmly,

'Go straight to your room Jacky, my sweet, and no ear wigging on the stairs. There's my special kid.'

If Mary was my Mom I would be so proud, my chest is fair bursting with love and pride.

I'm going to ask her to adopt me, well I will, when she's calmed down a bit.

I'm gonna ask her to touch me, soon as I can get her alone

All the other foster kids are still at school and the house is oddly peaceful for a change. After a mildly hysterical phone call from his wife, Big Al has come home to find her still wearing her best summer dress and chain smoking those stinking Camels with her third, very large gin and spit of tonic in her hand.

I know this because I'm sat on the stairs, spying. It's wearing me out sitting here, tense and braced to do a runner if I'm spotted. My route is up two flights to the attic, out the skylight, across the red tiled roof and down the rickety drain pipe to the back yard, just like Spiderman. Then I plan to hot foot it to my friend's house until dusk.

He who must be obeyed speaks gently at first.

'Mary, love, you have a big heart sweetie but it's no surprise that the school has finally had enough of him. Jacob is not a good kid, you must see that?'

I can see the back of Mary's head shake slowly from side to side, hey folks it's a 'no' from Mary.

Big Al digs himself a deeper hole.

'Just look what he tried to do to the poor cat with the firecrackers at Halloween?

Look what he did to the poor baby rabbits.

Look how he treats the dog, that poor hound is so severely traumatised that he almost falls over every time he cocks his leg to take a piss.'

Mary's voice is low and quiet, bored even and, as Compton now knows to his cost, this is when she is at her most terrifying, even for Big Al who takes a long step closer to the door.

'The cat was a normal everyday kid's prank and my Jacky had no idea that putting the rabbits in his school bag overnight would suffocate them.

That dog of yours is neurotic.

My Jacky has been through enough in his short life already.

He is only ten years old.'

'Yes, exactly.' yells Darth Vader, evil leader of the storm troopers.

'He is ten years old and already he is putting straws up frogs' butts and blowing into them until they explode, he is torturing small animals, killing them by accident or on purpose, I'm not sure which Honey, but I am certain that yes, he is only ten, and he is already a trainee psychopath.'

Oh no, the man from the dark side has reached out for Mary's hand and she has let him take it, I am really in the shit if he wins this round with her.

'Damn it all,' he continues to talk to my Mary in a gentle but no nonsense tone voice, 'Jacob, Jake, Jacky or whatever you want to call him has more than enough money in trust from his parents' estate to pay for boarding school. He needs routine and discipline, Mary. I cannot keep locking him in the basement, he is getting too big, too loud and too strong, so, to boarding school he will damn well go.'

Mary snatches back her hand and goes supernova, throwing the now empty gin glass at her hubby and narrowly missing his big target of a head she screeches at him,

'Don't you dare cuss at me, Al. Jacky will leave here over my dead body. I swear on my mother's grave, that poor child will not be going anywhere.'

Aunty Mary always sticks up for me, she loves me it's our secret and she is my bestest friend and my greatest hero.

I leave them to it and go to my room. But, much later lying in bed through the thin walls I hear Al say,

'Hush now baby, big daddy will get you a new toy.'

Jacky you are on your way outta here.

It's Saturday evening and I have been sulking in my room all day long. Mary hasn't even noticed. Then, just as I am busting for a pee, the door opens and Darth Vader strides in and sits on the end of my bed in full battle gear.

'I've decided that you'll be going to boarding school as soon as we can arrange it, no ifs and buts, no arguments, it's a done deal. You're a lucky kid to get this residential education opportunity.'

'You never said that to Luke Skywalker.' I try to make a joke but really I feel sick, I know he means it. He leaves without another word, his black helmet tucked under one arm, taking his lightsabre with him.

The Dark Lord is downstairs. I can hear him telling Mary that he has told me about boarding school and she is not to overturn his decision.

I'm lying on my bed staring at the ceiling, thinking about being sent away, feeling upset, I hurt real bad deep down inside where I can't reach myself. I get up and go to the big white bathroom for my overdue pee. Mary calls it the 'pristine so keep it that way or else' bathroom.

Us kids mostly use the small bathroom downstairs, life is easier that way, but I can't go down and risk seeing their faces. I don't want to know what Mary looks like when she doesn't love me anymore.

I feel so bad that I ache all over. I don't know what to do or say to make it right.

I lock the bathroom door with the brass slip bolt that's fixed too high for the littleuns to reach, but I'm not little anymore. I take a leak and sit down on the toilet seat's fluffy snow white cover, it reminds me of a kitten I think I used to know.

I am miserable. It really hurts to think that Mary and Big Al will send me away. I love Mary. I thought that she loved me enough to stop the Dark Lord from carrying out his evil plan but she doesn't. I have a bad pain in my heart.

I pull Al's new “look at this Mary it's got a flexible mount” shaving mirror towards me and stare at myself. I am so bad, I even look bad. No wonder everyone leaves me or sends me away. Even I don't want me right now and I'm all I've got.

There's a packet of razor blades on the high shelf, but it's not too high for me, I reach up and get them. Each blade is individually wrapped in waxy paper, I open one and sit the piece of vicious metal in the palm of my hand, it even looks sharp.

I want to cry but I can't cry. I am too bad to cry. It's all my fault.

Let me out Jacky, I'll make the bad thing go away.

I take hold of the shiny blade between the forefinger and thumb of my right hand then, still looking in the mirror, I bring it up fast and watch in surprise as it slashes straight down my face opening up my cheek to reveal the fat and bone underneath.

The cut doesn't hurt at all, but the agonising pain inside me has begun to flow away like water running down the drain. I feel so relieved as I watch a dozen or more tiny red beads of blood rise to the surface of the cut.

Wow, my blood is really flowing, it's running down my face, crimson is dripping off my chin onto the toilet seat cover and the white bathmat.

White yer say? It looks a beautiful red to me sunshine.

The pain suddenly flares in my cheek and hits me as if a firebrand has been pressed into my flesh and I drop the wet razor blade onto the pristine bathroom floor.

'Mary. Mary.' I am on my knees screaming for her like a baby.

Darth Vader kicks the bathroom door in and splinters of wood fly off the frame in slow motion. He is still prepared for battle, 'he has come to kill me' I think as I start to fall forwards.

I am lying on the floor.

I see a silver haired girl looking out at me from the long mirror on the wall.

I can smell parma violets.

Fuck. I went too far this time.

Chapter Four

2014 -ISOLATION-

Since my tragic and unbearable losses I've lived here, at the Lodge, in what Annie calls 'splendid isolation'.

My dictionary defines emotional isolation as 'a defensive mechanism in which memory of unacceptable acts or impulse is separated from the emotion originally associated with it.'

I define my own isolation as 'living alone in a large log cabin situated in the wilderness on the edge of a vast, and usually, ice cold lake'.

I have no idea why anyone would say that isolation is splendid. Isolation is lonely.

Anyhow, Lake Disregard, yup that's its sweet name, has a narrow stretch of sandy beach and is surrounded by pine woods to the east and majestic snow-capped mountains to the west. On sunny days the breathtaking beauty of the lake's surroundings and the blue sky are reflected in the water. Double the view.

You wanna buy it? Show me the fuckin' cash and I'm outta here like a prisoner after a long stretch.

The only access to the Lodge is via a well worn dirt track cut through the woods, but it's easy enough to find if you're really looking. There's a battered old sign out on the highway, its faded flaking paintwork just about reads,

Welcome to Heavensgate. 3 miles

This place is indeed a little piece of Heaven or the endless dominions of Hell, depending on my mood.

The single storey Lodge is large but cosy. I have an open plan living, dining, kitchen area. My lounge has two huge red sofas and matching high backed armchairs all covered with soft cashmere throws and scatter cushions, in the middle is a large mahogany coffee table. On the walls I have a modest collection of modern art, but don't ask me to name the artists. The polished oak floorboards are covered by expensive Persian rugs. Several tiffany lamps cast away evening shadows.

'No tartan good ole boy décor in here,' laughed Louise when she first set eyes on the place.

Like her shit don't stink.

She was so happy that day, ecstatic even, as we checked out the place for the very first time.

I was admiring the view from the kitchen when Lou threw me her special secret smile, grabbing me by the front of my shirt and the buckle of my jeans, pulling me close and tight, pressing her clever lips to mine. Ten unforgettable, hot, sweaty, mind and body blowing minutes later we lay exhausted on the floor and pronounced the Lodge 'christened'.

I loved her and right then in that moment she knew that I loved her. I'm grateful for that at least.

Father forgive me for I have sinned, please hear my confession.

I fucked her each way to Sunday and back whether she wanted it or not.

Amen.

There is a huge open fire place in the living area and the obligatory stag's head mounted on one wall. No, I didn't shoot it, I can't even bring myself to swat a fly in summer.