I’m sat under an old railway bridge which is only about a mile from my house. It smells of piss and looks as though it’s a place where kids my age come to drink or do whatever they wanted. I’ve passed here a few times watching them burn around on stolen mopeds whilst drinking alcohol.
At this moment there’s no one around so it’s fairly peaceful, however it’s starting to get dark early now the clocks have gone back. The old train track runs under the bridge and there are large pillars scattered around. It’s quite dark with an orange glow from the street lamps. The track itself has overgrown weeds with a ditch running along the far side; this ditch is slightly hidden by big bushes. The rest of the area where I’m sat has rubbish scattered around, there are old milk crates upside down used as seats in a circular position around a heap of burnt wood.
I suddenly hear voices in the distance with the sound of a coke can being kicked so I quickly, and quietly as possible, make my way behind one of the large pillars surrounded by tall weeds on the other side of the track so I was out of sight.
‘How are you going to do it?’ I heard one of the voices say, not daring to look round in case they saw me. I crouched down onto my bum and got as comfortable as I could, the floor felt cold, damp and hard.
‘Probably stab him’ I heard the other voice say.
‘Are you not scared you might get caught?’
‘I don’t get scared me mate, don’t really care!’ I come to the realisation that one of the boys talking was Martin Soil and gathered that there was a possibility they were talking about me, I sat and listened.
‘Yeah but you’ll go to prison!’
‘Not bothered, I’ve got to stick to my word. I’ve have told that little runt I’m going to kill him and I will.’ A wave of sickness came over me. I sat there against the pillar by now it was pitch black with the odd orange glow here and there from the street lamps. My hands shook at his words and now I'm so scared I wish I could curl up into a ball and just fade away. I couldn’t believe my ears at what I was hearing, does this boy really hate me that much he wants me dead?
‘Up to you’ said the other boy, ‘Do you want a hand?’
‘Yeah could do, we could kill him together and film it yeah?’ Martin Spat.
‘Good idea, no one in school would mess with us then.’
‘Exactly mate.’
‘Right I've got to go my mum is cooking dinner and will throw a mega one if I'm not back in time, you walking with me?’
‘No’ Said Martin ‘going to have a fag first, I'll see you tomorrow.’
I hear the other boy walk off and can hear the flick of his lighter. I sit there for a minute and waited, hoping that he would go so I could go home.
As I sat there with my head in-between my knees I heard a voice making me jump out of my skin.
‘There you are you little bastard!’
‘I thought I heard something!’ Within seconds he drove the heel of his school shoes straight into the side of my head. The pain was intense, felt like fire. I lay on the floor for a second or two then looked up and saw an iron bar. I pushed myself up as fast as I could to grab the bar; I swung it round as hard as I could in the direction of Martin, catching him in his left arm. He took the hit with ease and my stomach exploded with fear. He charged at me at speed with a grunt, I felt scared so I jabbed the bar towards his face penetrating under his chin into his mouth. I froze having no idea what I've just done. I watch him stubble around with a four foot iron bar hanging out of his chin, then falling to the floor onto his side.
I run over to him shouting.
‘Martin I'm so sorry I really am sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you!’ He laid there wiggling like a worm trying to get the bar from his chin crying in pain. I felt scared, this boy has already threatened to kill me and now I've seriously injured him. Part of me wanted to leave him there, I could run home and hide away but the other part of me wanted to help the guy who threatened me.
I stand over him looking down, taking the opportunity to be as intimidating as possible, but I could see that at fourteen he was only concerned about the metal sticking out of his face. I grab the bar with both hands, I take a deep breath and pull it as hard as possible with the bar pulling out easily. Blood sprayed from the wound and I start to feel nauseous, almost faint at the sight. It kept flowing out; I could see that the bar was in a lot deeper than I first anticipated. This is serious.
I stand over Martin looking down at him praying for him to get up; wanting him to try to beat me up or something but there was no movement. He lays there with his eyes wide open and a grey drained look on his face. I try to feel for a pulse but because of the amount of blood I got all squeamish and don’t want to touch the body. I think he’s dead but I don’t know what to do, if I leave him here it will look like murder and these days the police seem to get it right all of the time.
After about thirty minutes of contemplating what to do I come up with the idea to hide the body and try to clean up the blood. Not sure whether this is the best idea in the world, I decide to stick by my guns and go through with it.
I drag the body across the concrete floor, over the train track and roll in through a hedge down into a ditch which is full of rubbish and debris. My hands feel sticky from the blood and my clothes are covered in it.
It’s really hard to see, its pitch black so I pull out my mobile and use the light on it as a torch, which is proving impossible to see how much blood is around. I decide to give up on trying to clean up and head home. I decided it was too late to call an ambulance. As I make my way out through a broken section in the fence and onto the street pathway a man passes me walking his dog. I flinch from him as he walks past. He gives me a funny look but continues to walk at which point I run as fast as I can down the road back home.
I stop outside my house and now it’s clear how much blood I have on me, it looks as though I've been working in an abattoir for a week. I can smell the blood which makes me feel sick but I’m yet to realise how much trouble I'm actually in. I run round to the back of the house through a dark alley and climb over the fence into our back garden. I make my way up to the back door where the hose pipe is, keeping my eye out making sure no one can see me and turn it on slowly.
The back of the house is lit up but all the curtains are closed so I can’t tell where anyone is in the house. I quickly try to wash of the blood as fast as possible but is proving extremely difficult.
Standing there I take a deep breath and decide to walk in through the back door of the house quietly. I can hear the TV on in the front room. I creep in and sneak my way round the corner of the kitchen to see that everyone in the house is in the lounge. This gives me the opportunity to get upstairs and clean myself up.
I get to the bathroom and lock the door. I can feel my heart beating fast, thumping through my chest like a hammer. I strip my clothes off and give myself a good wash, with the soap the blood cleans of nice and easy making the water turn red highlighting what I've actually done.
Once finished and still terrified of tonight’s events I sneak from the bathroom and hurry myself into my bedroom shutting the door quietly. I throw my school uniform under my bed in the corner right out of the way and get changed into my casual clothes. I take a seat on the bed and place my head between my knees, sobbing my heart out.
I pray to god that I don’t get caught; looking up at the ceiling continuously repeating to myself how sorry I was for killing Martin. I couldn’t believe I had actually killed someone at the age of fourteen. What will my dad think? What will Martins parents think about him being dead? They will probably want me dead after this. Do I tell someone? Or do I just try to carry on as normal like nothing happened? At this point god only knows and the guilt within me eats away every single second.
About thirty minutes later it dawns on me that no one seems too bothered that I'm not around, they are all downstairs happily watching TV without a thought about me. I open my bedroom door double check over myself to make sure there’s nothing
on me and make my way down stairs into the front room.
‘Where have you been?’ Mark asked in his deep overpowering voice,
‘I was walking!’
‘Walking where?’
‘Just out and about,’ I reply sitting myself in the arm chair. Mark tries to be a father figure to me not that he has any right. He’s tall, bald and always seems to have a mean look on his face like the whole world is against him. Mark always dresses really smart, even in a suit you can see his huge muscles trying to squeeze out like the suit is just about to pop, he scares me and I know he scares my mum. My mum starts to approach me,
‘Dinner is in the microwave if you want it!’
‘I’m not hungry but thanks.’
‘You eat the food your mother cooks for you John!’ shouted Mark.
‘Ok calm down.’ My mum said to him.
‘Ok ok, I’ll go and eat your food!’ Jumping out of my chair angry and heading for the kitchen. Mark follows me out; I knew I was in for a hiding.
Mark charges up behind me and pushes me towards the sink and grabs the back of my head forcing it down onto the kitchen side.
‘Don’t ever talk to your mother like that again big boy, do you understand?’ He shouted spitting his words at me.
‘Yes sorry.’ I didn’t mean it but had no choice knowing that he would hurt me even more if I retaliated.
‘Get off him!’ My mum shouted whilst running into the kitchen. Mark lets go of me and turns to my mum, forcing his forehead against hers.
‘You sort out that little son of yours then you stupid woman!’ He pushes her away and walks back into the lounge slamming the door behind him. I can hear my little brother crying in the back ground with Ian laughing and joking with Mark. I felt a moment of rage but managed to contain it. I go over to my mum to give her a hug but she pushes me off her.
‘Now look what you’ve done, get to your room I don’t want to see you until the morning,’ pointing in the direction of the stairs.
I run up the stairs into my room and slam the door behind me. I can hear my mum and Mark arguing through the floor. I put on a film with the volume up loud trying to chill out, trying to forget what a horrible day I’ve had, the tears start to roll down my face. The sight of Martin dead haunts me, I question myself. Is this the person I've now become, a murderer? I never knew I had it in me, it’s amazing what pushes you, in this instance it was survival, Martin could have seriously hurt me if I didn’t get there first.
***
Chapter 3