Jeremy pounded on the door using fists and boots. The door shivered and Jeremy momentarily wondered at its strength.
Slow, heavy footsteps came from inside. About bloody time!
A shock of white hair emerged from the hesitant crack of the doorway.
“Please ma’am, I need to use your stairs. I’m locked out and I left the bath running.”
Had he used that line before? Jeremy didn’t care. He pushed the door open, almost toppling his fragile, old neighbour.
“Are you okay Jeremy?”
He heard the fear in her voice but did not register it.
He took the stairs at the end of the corridor and ascended at a run. The neighbour’s slow steps soon faded out of Jeremy’s hearing.
On the first floor he grabbed an antique vase on his way through the landing without even thinking about it and climbed the next flight on to the roof. The metal door was barred by a horizontal rod and Jeremy opened it easily. The added security only worked when he was on the other side.
Jeremy crossed the roof, ploughing through his discarded syringes, jumped the low wall and entered his own house.
Downstairs his mother was in the kitchen. Startled, she turned abruptly.
“What the hell are you doing? If your father catches you here he’ll kill us both.”
“Where’s the money?”
“What money? I’ve already given you everything I got this month!”
“You lying bitch!”
His mother’s arm flew up stinging Jeremy’s face, shooting his head sideways.
Her words were slow, deliberate, venom dripping off each syllable.
“Get out of my house, and before you change the path you’ve taken don’t even think of coming back here.”
Jeremy’s rage rose within him like a physical being. He pushed her and she fell easily. He ran to the drawer, rummaged and found twenty quid. Lying bitch! He stuffed them in his pocket, grabbed the vase and ran out of the house without noticing the blood pooling out of his mother’s head.
Monday for me means Trifecta Challenge. This week the word is PATH:
3a : course, route
b : a way of life, conduct, or thought
Well, I hope you like it.
Just a small note though. The construction of the houses I describe here is probably not what most of you are used to. Houses in my country are usually three stories high, their roofs flat with only low walls separating the conjoined houses on the block. A washroom is on the top of each house with a continuous flight of steps connecting the three floors vertically together. Therefore, breaking from one house to the next by jumping the roof tops is actually quite easily done. Happily (touching wood) crime is not much of an issue in these parts with people still leaving their keys in the doorway in some parts of the country.
Tragic. Very well written.
Thanks Joe 🙂
Such a sad story. It’s brilliantly written.
Thank you Deana, I appreciate it.
You captured addiction in all of its infamy
Mind you, this was not from personal experience 😉 Thanks for reading
The desperation of addiction really comes through here. Nice job.
Thanks a lot Bee.
Wow. What a story. That final image…yeesh…haunting… 😯
I’m glad it moved you! Thanks for reading.
“He stuffed them in his pocket, grabbed the vase and ran out of the house without noticing the blood pooling out of his mother’s head.” Oh man, even if he gets off drugs he’ll be messed up for life after he finds out what he did. He’s a goner.
Yep he is!
a truly horrifying tale… and an ending that’s completely heartbreaking.. but it’s written and told in a very very good way. great job.
Thanks KZ 🙂
How terrible — and I was rooting for the mom in standing up to him, too.
She was quite brave I think, standing up to her boy for his own good. Thanks for reading Annabelle.
Jeremy is not a very nice boy, and I notice that he did not attempt this while his father was home; so I suppose he is also a coward.
I think this kind of addiction does turn people into monsters to some extent.
Great details here. I love the ruse he used to go through the neighbor’s house.
From the stories I hear, drug addicts would do anything to get to the money, turning into thieves if they have to. So I thought this was quite plausible. I’m glad you liked it Christine.
A bit of a wild ride across the rooftops. o__O Really cool piece.
Thanks Draug 🙂
Tragic story. I like to think the mother will survive. I like how you explained the housing structure at the end. I haven’t seen anything like that, but thank goodness it’s safe in real life!
Yeah safe and communal actually, with neighbours chatting while hanging the washing on the roof.
Shuddering at the thought
I hate Jeremy!Wonder how kids turn like this-poor mother of his!Beautifully written-loved the built up Sandra:-)
Thanks a lot Atreyee 🙂
A well written, compelling story. Sad to say, this was not a surprise ending. Good job.
Thank you, I appreciate your comment.