Gimme Shelter

 

The title to this post purely because I have the Stones in my earphones as I’m walking to the office again, thinking about  my kids. There are three of them; all girls: Lizzie, Mari and Ellen. Lizzie is the eldest, she’s not going in to school today and for once it’s not because of the bullying; she’s genuinely sick.

I try to get her to talk to me, I always have. So does her mother, but she refuses to open up to us. She has good friends, she’s into what I used to call Goth-rock, but it’s probably called something totally different now. She’s very pretty, stylish in her own, dark way and, as far as I know, is generally quite popular. Then a couple of weeks ago we heard from one of the other kids that they’d heard from someone else that Lizzie was cutting herself because she was being bullied at school. I confronted her about it and made her show me her wrists. They were covered with angry red welts. I went crazy. There was a lot of shouting and even more tears. I was furious at first because I thought she had some kind of romantic idea about being ‘dark’ and ‘troubled’, that it was all part of her image. Then she showed me the text messages she’d been receiving.

They came from a boy who I remember liked her some time before, they ‘went out together’ in the way that eleven-twelve year old kids do. I doubt they kissed; they probably never even held hands. Eventually she grew tired of him and dumped him, and not long after that the abuse started. He would push her around at school and encourage his friends to do the same. Then came the texts; nasty, spiteful little texts telling her to kill herself, that she’s fat and she should starve herself to death, that he was going to bring a knife into school so she could slash her wrists. Little motherfucker. No wonder the girl was stressed. I just wish she could have spoken to me before it became so bad that the only option was for her to cut herself to release the pain. Her mother and I went into the school to talk to the teachers about it. I told them I had a short fuse and was close to doing something I might end up regretting. The teachers were glad we came in. They’re keeping an eye on the situation and having regular meetings with Lizzie to make sure she’s okay, and things seem better now. Lizzie is still frustrating, selfish and as moody as ever, but now I think this is just down to her hormones rather than anything I really need to worry about. Sometimes she drives me crazy, but that’s kids I guess. Sometimes I don’t like her much at all, but I’ll always love her. She and her sisters are the only things that remind me I’m capable of loving at all.

I’m acting calm about it all, now things seem to be better for Lizzie, but just between us, I’m really flooded with a kind of rage. When I visualise it, I see it as boiling oil, like they would pour over the walls of a castle to fend off invaders. This kid had better pray I never meet him. He came to the house once, looking for Lizzie, before all the trouble. I lied and told him she wasn’t home. If he came round now, I would drag him down the alleyway that runs down the side of our house, close the alley gates behind me, and stamp on his face until even his mother wouldn’t recognise him. Then I would find out where he lived and burn his house to the ground, preferably with his family inside it. No-one treats my daughter like that. No-one.

I walk home at lunchtime. The house is empty because my wife is working. Lizzie is at her grandmother’s because she’s sick; the other two girls are at school.  As soon as I’m through the door I Skype Viktoria, my Russian girlfriend. She makes me video myself while I lie on the bed and masturbate. She tells me to fix clothes pegs to my balls and twist them. It hurts, but its a sweet pain. I love it. She then makes me take my leather belt and whip my cock with it until I cum. I say goodbye, lie that I love her, get cleaned up and head back to work after emailing her the video. I don’t eat anything.

At work, two huge generators are being installed outside the office. This is so that our boss doesn’t have to lose any money if there is a power cut. All afternoon I get emails from Viktoria telling me how worthless I am, that the video I sent was a piece of shit. I mail her back over and over again, telling her I will try to do better next time.

I find out that work starts on my boss’s FOURTH house today. It’s somewhere in Scotland; Gleneagles I think. He’s a big golfer so that would make sense. I’m doing okay at work and have saved the company more than fifty grand this year alone, probably more like seventy. As I walk home I’m thinking about all this money. It reminds me I need to call my mother this evening to borrow some money for food shopping. The pay we get at our place is shit. The air is getting warmer now that winter is on its way out and I’m getting buffeted about by the wind as I walk along. It makes my eyes sting and fill with tears. I can’t seem to shake the feeling that someone is going to die soon.

McDeath’s

I lied to my wife again today. She said “I love you,” as we lay in bed this morning. “I love you too,” I said. This was the lie. It’s getting so I can’t stand the sight of her. We’ve been married fifteen years. I can’t leave though. As much of a bastard as I am I don’t want to leave the kids, regardless of the fact that most of the time I want to (and often do) scream at them.
I am a born liar. I find it easy. I’ve been lying to people ever since I can remember. It must be something to do with my mother calling me deceitful when I was a kid. I know all the tricks to avoid getting spotted too; eye contact, but not too much, where to look, where not to look when I’m bullshitting. The big trick it to believe the lies yourself, and I mean really believe them. That way your body language won’t give you away without you realising it.

It’s lunchtime and I’m sitting in McDonald’s finishing my Large Quarter Pounder with Cheese meal. The place full of people, washing around me like I’m a rock stuck in the middle of a river. They’re all moving. I’m going nowhere, just slowly being eroded until I disappear.

I see a young couple come in with a toddler. The kid’s face is grubby and smeared with snot. The guy, who I assume is the father, is short, looks a little overweight, and has an arrogant, sneering expression. Already I want to punch his face and I’ve seen it for less than a minute. He’s wearing expensive looking, trendy clothes, and a pork pie hat. How he can afford them I don’t know. I’m being judgemental but I guess from his manner and appearance that he doesn’t work. Probably claiming benefits and maybe doing a little bit of cash in hand work on the side. He looks around the place with a scowl, then he, his girlfriend and the kid join the queue to get served. His girlfriend is skinny, too skinny, with a drawn, pockmarked face and tired blue eyes. She looked pissed off that she has to queue before she can eat. She looks my way, her eyes widen for a second, she smiles. I smile back. I want to fuck her. Not that I am attracted to her in any way. I just want to fuck her. She wants me too. I can tell. Her boyfriend is staring up at the glossy, brightly lit menu above the counter so he misses the brief moment between me and his girlfriend. If he spotted he would want to fight me…wait, no he wouldn’t, for some reason nobody wants to fight me. I’ve never had a fight in my entire life. Perhaps when potential enemies look at me they see something that makes them think twice. Who knows?

I suck up the last of my Coke and stand up. I take my rubbish to the bin and leave, then walk across the road back to the office, fantasising in graphic detail about taking the girl into the toilets and screwing her.