Scum

“Scum!”

The insult ricocheted off me into a pile with the rest. It was better when they hurled abuse at me, at least then I felt acknowledged; like I existed. The worst were the ones that just walked by. 'Don’t look at him, avoid eye contact'. I gazed into the grey abyss of London’s bustling streets, watching the business men, the shoppers, the mothers... the daughters. And then there was me; homeless, repulsive, unwelcome. The well-dressed man walking past offered me a couple of coins, but I refused them.

I found my cold hands start to clench the cracked photo next to me, and I smiled. It was the only thing that gave me joy anymore; the pinprick of starlight through plumes of smog. I kept staring at it until, sure enough, the bliss began to metamorphose into sorrow, and guilt. ‘There’s nothing you could have done,’ they’d said. A shiver trickled down my spine and I hugged my tattered coat a little closer. I tried to contain a cough but it wrenched from my throat like an expelled demon. People began to stare disgustedly, leaving a wide radius around me. If only they knew. I lay down on my concrete bed and closed my eyes for what felt like the final time...

...The letterbox rattled and the familiar sound of bills pattered against the Oriental rug in the hallway. There were about a dozen, all stamped with an aggressive red ‘URGENT’. I added them to the pile on my desk and adjusted my swivel chair from where I had been using it as a bed. As I sat forward, I caught a reflection of myself in the glass desktop for the first time in years. I looked awful. There were deep black smudges under my bloodshot eyes, and my skin seemed almost grey. I looked how I felt; leeched of all energy, life, hope, like some vampire victim.

The muffled sound of shoes on carpet hurried downstairs and I watched as Amanda walked past, her eyes raw as though she’d been crying. Then I noticed the cardboard box in her arms, filled with her belongings. My heavy heart seemed to double in weight.

“Please,” I begged.

“Dave, don’t.”

“Amanda, I...”. There were tears in my eyes now. Perhaps If she had have given any eye contact I would have seen the tears in hers as well.

“I said don’t.” She rested her hand on the brass door handle. “We’ve discussed this, I just can’t stay here anymore. The memories...”

“Amanda,” I pleaded, reaching to touch her. She motioned away and slowly began to twist the handle. “Amanda, if you walk away from me now I have nothing. No family, no money, no home. I can’t cope without you.”

The door opened.

“And I can’t with you.”

She left and my soul emptied out in front of me. As the final echoes of the slamming door diminished into hollow silence, I began to walk aimlessly into the bedroom upstairs. There was something gleaming on the bed; a photograph. The photo that I had hidden out of sight, amongst many others for the pain it caused me; she had framed it. Next to it was Amanda’s ring. I heard a buzz and the electricity in the house cut out, dousing my world into darkness and deadening the photo’s glisten. In a torrent of rage I hurled the picture against the wall screaming, then instantly regretted it. I picked up the cracked remains and hugged them, alone on the bed...

...A flurry of car horns erupted as I screeched to overtake the lorry. 'Not today, please God don’t make me late today'. I rounded the bend with frightening speed, adrenalin pounding a vicious rhythm against my ear drums. My eyes glanced to the photograph pinned to the dashboard and I touched it, praying for the first time in years. In my mirror the undercover police cars were following, keeping their distance. Another quick turn and I had arrived. I jumped out the car and tore open the boot, grabbing the plastic bags filled with all the money I owned. The supermarket car park was packed with shoppers pushing trolleys to and from their cars. I grabbed one abandoned on the side and wheeled it quickly to the far corner of the car park, leaving the money in the child seat before walking back. Where had the police gone?

My head burned with adrenalin as I fought the temptation to look behind. Eventually I stopped and turned: the money was gone. When I looked back a man had appeared. He had no mask, no hood up; just a regular person. But I knew he wasn’t.

“Where’s Lilly?” My voice was trembling with rage or fear, eyes darting in search for my daughter. For a moment he didn’t respond, then he uttered the words that would haunt me forever.

“I said no police.”

He looked me dead in the eyes as he said it and my heart plummeted. I crumpled to my knees as though someone had dropped an anchor tied to my chest. I felt my consciousness spiralling as the man turned and walked away. He just walked away...

...The soaring of summer waves on hot sand seemed to compliment the seagull cries overhead. The cool Brighton breeze gently wafted scents of battered cod and chips across the blurred background of passersby. I looked at Lilly, running excitedly away from the deadly waves, laughing to herself.

“Lilly,” I shouted, “Lilly come here”.

“Dave, come on she’s playing,” Amanda remarked.

“I just want a photo, we haven’t taken any yet!”

After a second more of playing Lilly came skipping back.

“What is it Daddy?”

“Have a seat by Mummy over there; I want to take a picture”

She went to sit on Amanda’s lap.

“Lilly, you’re soaking,” Amanda laughed, “Get your bum off me!”

They both fell into a fit of giggles as Lilly tried to battle against her mother’s attempts to keep dry. I clicked the shutter and smiled. Perfect.