Dating Down Read online

  I don’t know what they hit me with. I go down hard, and they both lay into me with their fists and boots. There’s nothing I can do. I’ve just got to take it. Rolling into a ball, I just lie there as they stamp on my legs and arms and kick the shit out of me.

  It goes on and on. I hear myself cry out as my ribs give way and something explodes inside me. Doubling up, I protect what’s left of my guts as the violent blows continue to pound me.

  A boot makes contact with my ribs, and it all goes black. For a few blissful moments, I can’t feel anything. I’m free of the pain. But it don’t last long, and the next boot they stick in my back kicks me into consciousness, followed by a bombardment of punches, sickening laughter, and hateful kicks that keeps me in permanent torment.

  And then, just when I can’t take any more, when I am near breaking point and seconds away from begging them to leave me alone, they stop.

  I lie there face down in the alley, chest heaving, my broken rib burning in my side, bullets of pain erupting in my head, my legs, and my arms. Just trying to breathe, crippled by pain, I try to listen out for signs of them, but all I can hear is my own ragged breathing and the dull thud from the skull-splitting pain.

  Where are they? Have they gone? Are they just taking time out for a smoke and a drink? I listen, but I can’t hear anything.

  I should run, get away whilst I can, but if they’re still here... I can’t. I don’t even know if I can stand. All I can feel is pain where my legs should be. I wait some more, try to slow my breathing... fight against the desire to close my eyes and never wake up...

  I swallow the tears and listen. Breathe in the silence. I can’t hear them. Perhaps they ran off. Perhaps they’ve done what they wanted to do. I want to believe it, but it seems too easy.... I just wish my head didn’t throb so much. I’m scared if I move I’m going to puke.

  I wait just a bit more, just to make sure, a few more seconds. I really can’t hear anything. Just me, it’s all I can hear, just me all messed up. It’s over. I breathe easy. I can’t believe it, it’s over, really over. With trembling hands I push myself up.

  “Oh no you don’t.”

  The fear returns times ten. I don’t know which one it was who spoke or who grabs me. I try to fight them, try to wriggle free, but I have no strength. I can’t even lift my head up. The one holding me has to do it.

  “You’re fuckin’ going to pay for what you did!”

  I blink and cough up a gob full of blood. Dazed, my mind wandering, the thin one’s fuzzy face glares down at me. He’s a sight. I’d messed him up good and proper. I don’t suppose I look too good now, but him, he’s messed up for life.

  I don’t see him draw back his fist; I just feel another blow to my guts. I try to double up, protect what is left of my ribs. But Fatty has my arms pinned behind my back, and the little shit just lets rip.

  “Smithy, that’s enough!”

  I think I must have blacked out again, because when I come round, the fat one is holding me forward, and I’m puking up blood down my front.

  “I say when it’s enough!” roars the other. He’s high. I don’t know if he’s pissed, on something, or just gets off on beating the crap out of me, but he isn’t going to stop. He scares the shit out of me.

  “We done what we came to do. Let’s go.” Fatty’s had enough.

  “No!” shouts the other one. “I ain’t finished!”

  I gasp as one of them grabs my hair and pulls my face out of my chest, and I find myself staring into those manic eyes. Icy-cold sweat envelops me again, and my whole body starts to tremble. Fatty – he’s just your average thug, he wants to throw his weight around and scare the shit out of everyone so he feels tough. I get that. The other one, I’ve got no idea what he’s going to do next, except that hurting me isn’t enough.

  “I’m going to mess you good and proper,” he says, grinning sadistically. “By the time I finish with you, your pretty little girlfriend won’t even be able to look at you.”

  His face and his manic blue eyes are the only things I can see.

  “Well?” He sneers. “Got anything to say for yourself?”

  Fighting for breath, I meet his gaze. He’s going to do whatever he wants, so I might as well go down fighting. If all I can do is piss him off, I’m going to piss him off royal. Drawing on what little strength I’ve got, I spit my blood right into his nasty little face.

  “Smithy, no!”

  All I feel before I fall forward, clutching my stomach, is a sliver of ice. I don’t realise the bastard has knifed me till I roll onto my back and see the blood bubbling up between my fingers.

  Deaf, trapped in some kind of weird bubble which took me out from the real world, I watch them leg it, watch more and more blood spill out of me, feel the cold blanket of sweat envelop me. Then the bubble bursts, and I can hear busses and cars again. I can hear car horns and sirens, and somewhere in all that chaos, I can hear me crying.

  Back in the real world, I try to get to my hands and knees, get to the street and help before I bleed to death. Nothing works as it should. Arms and legs like jelly, I manage to crawl forward a few inches before they give way, and I end up kissing the concrete, clutching my stomach as another bolt of pain shoots through me.

  I cry. I get up again, use the wall to pull myself upright, and stagger forward a few paces before I stumble and fall and cry again. Shit! The panic starting to win control of me, I try a third time to get to my feet.

  This time I manage another couple of wobbly steps before I crash forward. I can’t get up.

  I drag myself forward, dig my nails in, and heave forward inch by inch. I’ve got to get to the road. If I don’t, I’m dead. Closing my eyes, I try to ignore the pain as my arms begin to tremble in protest before giving up the fight. I’m done in. Rolling onto my back, all I can do is watch the blood ooze through my trembling fingers. Shit.

  I don’t want to die, and I don’t want to die here on my own. I want to die when I’m old and grey. I want to die having lived. I want more days like today. I don’t want to die without seeing Bill and Jack again. I don’t want to die without telling Bill he was the best damn friend in the world and I’m sorry for being such a pain in the arse. And I don’t want to die without Tammy here with me. I don’t want to die when I’ve just got everything I ever wanted. Please, God – just let me live.

  Friday 7:00 p.m.

  Tammy

  I can’t believe we did it, and it didn’t hurt, and I didn’t make a complete fool of myself. I’m not a virgin anymore! Rolling onto my back, I laugh out loud and gaze up at his ceiling. I’m not a virgin, and Gary loves me!

  At first all I could think about was where to put my hands, my legs, wondering if it was all right to kiss him back, whether it was normal to want to hold and caress him. Then I started listening to Gary telling me to relax, telling me not to worry, he’d look after me, and I closed my eyes and let the sensations wash over me. Now I’m aching inside because I’m missing him already.

  Wrapping myself up in his duvet, I breathe in his scent. Unable to help myself, I tiptoe from his bed to steal a quick look at my portrait. Flicking through loads of pencil sketches of skulls and monsters, I freeze when I see myself asleep in his bed. Touching the paper, careful not to smudge any of the lines, I find myself gasping. It looks like me and it doesn’t. It’s my face, my nose, my lips, my hair, and at the same time, it isn’t. I look pretty in his picture, and I find myself smiling, because if that’s how I look to him, then I’m even hotter than Carrie Hamilton-Smith.

  Placing his sketchbook exactly where I found it, I put my black dress on and then spend the next few minutes fixing my hair and makeup so he can’t resist me when he gets back. Then I phone Mummy.

  I’m supposed to be back at nine, but I can’t bring myself to leave Gary so early, and even though I hate lying, I tell her I’m going to the cinema and I’ll be home before midnight. She doesn’t even bother asking me what I’m going to see. I’m glad she doesn’t, but part of
me wishes she did care enough about me to ask. Still, I’ve got Gary now, and he loves me to bits!

  I put my mobile away and, not sure what to do next, I flick through one of his books on drawing fantasy landscapes. If Gary gets home soon, we’ve got another four hours together – four more hours to mess about in his bed. I tingle all over at the thought of being with him again and check the time. It’s nearly seven twenty, and Gary said he’d be back in five minutes. I guess he’s stopped off to have a smoke.

  Disappointed he isn’t rushing back to be with me, I go into the kitchen for some water. It can’t take him more than five minutes to smoke a cigarette, and if he walked and smoked at the same time, he’d have still gotten back when he said he would. I look up at the kitchen clock and shudder as this uneasy feeling sweeps through me.

  I guess he might have bumped into one of his friends and feels obliged to talk to them for a bit. Perhaps that’s why he’s so late? I sip my water and, unable to survive being on my own for a few minutes with the suffocating silence, I go into the front room and peer through the nets. When I can’t see him anywhere, I open the front door and go to the end of the path so I can see all the way down his street. It’s empty. I guess everyone’s inside watching television.

  I sit down on his bed and hug my knees. I don’t know what it is, but I can’t settle. Something’s wrong. We didn’t just have sex, we made love, and afterwards we kissed and cuddled and we talked for ages, and he told me over and over again how much he loved me and how he hated being apart from me. So why isn’t he here? Why doesn’t he want to be with me as much as I want to be with him? Unless…

  I check the clock again. He’s been gone almost half an hour, a lifetime. I chew my nails, I get up, I sit back down again, I try to lose myself in one of his books, but my pulse continues to rise.

  Where is he? How long can it possibly take to buy some milk? A million and one terrors flood my brain. Has he been hit by a car? A motorbike? But he doesn’t have to cross the road to get to the corner shop; it’s just at the bottom of the alley at the end of his road. Then this other horrible thought rushes through me like melting ice: What if he hadn’t taken any money with him, and because he was in a rush to get back to me, he got caught shoplifting. Oh god, please don’t let that be true.

  The sound of the keys being turned in the lock drags me out of myself. I freeze for an instant before this rush of relief releases my limbs. Hating myself for being so stupid and thinking Gary would ever do anything so wrong, I run into the hall. But my joy turns into disappointment when I see Bill, Kate, Jack, and Ella falling through the front door, holding up brightly coloured balloons and candy floss, having spent a couple of hours down the fair.

  “I thought you were Gary,” I say, trying not to act concerned.

  “Sorry,” Bill apologises, taking Kate’s jean jacket. “Where did he go?”

  “The corner shop,” I tell him. “He’s been forever!”

  “He’s probably stopped off in the alley for a beer and a smoke.” Showing no concern, he squeezes past me on his way to the kitchen. “Want a tea, Kate?”

  “Please.” Kate flashes a smile at me as she steers Ella and Jack upstairs. Guess that means things are going well between her and Bill.

  “We ain’t got any milk,” Bill moans, closing the fridge door.

  “Gary was getting some,” I say. “I’ll go and tell him to hurry up.”

  I regret volunteering as soon as I step outside on my own. The fear, the same fear that kept me awake all night, begins to shake my insides. Eyes darting all over the place, I set off as fast as my heels will let me.

  A guy with cropped blond hair getting out of a white car whistles at me, and I almost jump out of my skin. He winks; he means no harm. I tug on my skirt when I see where his eyes fall. I’m walking forward when two lads come running out of nowhere and send me flying backwards into his hedge.

  “Are you all right, love?” Helping me to my feet, the blond-haired guy pulls me, shaking, out of his hedge.

  I nod, trembling from head to toe.

  “Bloody idiots!” he shouts after the two guys. “You two should watch where you’re going!”

  The guy lagging behind turns round, and when I see his face, my blood turns to ice. It’s the fat one. He doesn’t see me; he looks straight through me and carries on running, trying to catch up his skinny mate, who’s just sped round the corner.

  The memory of seeing them at the hospital replays in my mind, and I see all over again where the skinny one was pointing when he mimed slicing open his throat. Oh god, he wasn’t pointing to me, he was pointing at Gary!

  I stumble and grab hold of the wall. They were never after me. I wasn’t the one who fought them. I wasn’t the one who identified them, got them into trouble with the police. Gary was. They were after Gary all along. I was never in any danger. Oh Christ, what have I done?

  I run towards the shop, tears pouring down my cheeks, and when I reach the end and see him doubled up and not moving by a load of bin bags, I start screaming.

  “HELP!”

  The man with cropped blond hair is at my side in an instant and stops the moment he catches sight of Gary.

  “Call an ambulance!” Dropping to my knees alongside Gary, I try to rouse him. “NOW!”

  The man fumbles for his mobile and starts to dial. Panic and fear driving me forward, I roll Gary onto his back, the tears overwhelming me when I see all the blood leaking out between his trembling fingers and what a mess those two have made of him.

  Swallowing my tears, I try one more time to wake him. There isn’t one inch of him that isn’t hideously swollen, beaten black, and drenched with blood. And his face – why did they have to mess up his face? Ignoring my own terror, I force myself to be brave for Gary. Cradling his head in my lap, I try to stop the blood spilling out of him.

  “Tammy?” His voice is so weak it sounds like a whisper as his eyes blink open.

  “Don’t talk,” I tell him, the tears making my voice all quivery as I try to push the blood back into the gaping wound in his stomach.

  “What’s wrong with him?” demands the man holding the mobile phone away from his mouth. “They want to know.”

  “He’s been stabbed!” Growing desperate, I tear off my bolero. Trying to block out Gary’s cries, I lay it over the knife wound and press down as hard as I can. “And tell them to hurry!”

  I smile down at Gary and try to reassure him through my tears. Keeping him calm is important. Keeping him calm, pressing down on the wound, and what else did they tell us to do in first aid?

  “They’ll be here in ten minutes.” The man casts a shadow over us. “You all right, mate?”

  Gary nods, his skin a horrible grey colour as more and more of his blood leaks out through my fingers.

  “I need to elevate his legs.” I suddenly remember what else they told us in first aid. “And keep him warm. I need blankets and boxes!”

  “Where am I supposed to get them?” asks the man.

  “The corner shop!” I cry, the fear making me shout. “Now hurry!”

  He runs off, and I go back to the hopeless task of trying to stop Gary from bleeding to death.

  “It was them,” Gary wheezes, his blood soaking through my top. “Them two that hurt you.”

  “I know.” I stroke his head, trying to get him to relax. “Don’t worry, they’ve gone, and the ambulance will be here soon.”

  “Not soon enough.”

  “You’re not going to die!” I tell him, the terror beginning to overwhelm me and making my body tremble. “I’m not going to let you. The ambulance will be here soon, and then you’ll be all right and we can be together.”

  The man comes running back towards us with an empty plastic crate, several towels, and an old coat. “What do I do?” he pants.

  “Put the crate under his legs,” I tell him. “And then cover him with the coat, and I need that towel!”

  I chuck aside my top that is dripping blood and, snatching the tow
el, I fold it into a square and press it down on Gary’s stomach with all my might. His cries are making me sick with pain.

  “Hang in there, mate,” says the man, covering Gary’s chest with the coat. “Five minutes more.”

  Gary nods and shivers at the same time, biting his lip to stop himself from crying any more.

  “I’m going to wait for them by the shop.” The man heaves, his face draining of colour. “Make sure they come to the right place. Okay?”

  I watch him run back to the street, where a few more people are gathering, all come to see what’s going on.

  “Tammy.” Gary’s face is drenched in icy sweat when he meets my gaze. “I need you to do something.”

  “Anything.” I can’t stop the bleeding no matter how hard I push, the blood it keeps bubbling out of him, turning the towel scarlet.

  “Make sure they don’t take Jack away.”

  “Gary, you’re going to be okay!” I can’t, I’m not even going to think for one second he’s going to die.

  “Listen.” Heaving each word, he looks deep into my eyes. “Make sure they know I didn’t start this. Make sure –”

  “You can tell them yourself.” I fight even harder to keep him with me. I’m not going to lose him. I’m not.

  “I’m scared.”

  “So am I.” I kiss his face and cling to what’s left of his life, silently willing the ambulance to come.

  “You won’t leave.”

  “No.” If I could give him my life, I would, but I can’t. All I can do is stop him from giving up. He’s got to fight it. He’s got to want to live. “I’ll never leave you, never ever.”

  He blinks and manages a small smile, his breathing short and shallow as he battles against the pain, and then I notice his eyes start to flutter shut.