Sinister Scribblings - Volume 1 Page 2

  The following months proved a very difficult time. A battle with the insurance company over a technicality in Stuart’s policy initially delayed the pay-out. This, coupled with the costs to cover his funeral and attempting to satisfy any other outstanding creditors meant that it was nearly six months before we were financially settled. This time had been a rough ride for Anna; having to try to come to terms with her loss and varied emotions whilst attempting to offer love and support really took its toll on the girl. I had seen her teacher, Miss Hughes, a few times about her changes at school, not in the way of ill behaviour or standards of work slipping, but more in the way of becoming more withdrawn from her usual group of friends, and quieter in general. I'd spoken to Anna following these meetings with her teacher and she shrugged it off as just feeling down. Sometimes, she just preferred her own company. Accepting that she had been through so much, I agreed that maybe she just needed her own space and didn’t push the issue.

  A couple of weeks went by and I received another phone call from her teacher asking if I could pop into the school to see her. Upon chatting with Anna’s teacher, she informed me that, in registration that morning, Anna had run out of the classroom in tears and did not return until after the lunchtime break.

  When questioned by her teacher about her actions, she claimed that Jonathan, a boy in her class, had taken a broken chair with a faulty leg from the back of the classroom and swapped it with the chair at her desk. As she sat down, the chair collapsed and she ended up on her back, the laughing stock of the classroom. I promised Miss Hughes that I would speak to Anna that evening and try to get to the cause of the problem. It didn’t seem too difficult to work out in my mind, it was obvious: Anna was being bullied.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I waited around after seeing the teacher, to pick Anna up from school. She exited the school gates as usual, with no indications of anything wrong, apart from being a little quiet. As we drove home she sat in the passenger seat beside me, staring blankly out of the window, her mind on things other than answering my questions.

  “How was your day? What did you have for lunch?”

  I resisted the urge to probe further.

  I held back my tears at the thought that she couldn’t confide in me about her problems, that she couldn’t bring herself to tell me about the incident in the classroom this morning, or where she had spent the rest of the day. I knew one thing; Anna was my daughter; she had already been through a great deal of heartache and pain, and one of the boys at school was not going to continue to make her life hell. When we get home, we were having this out.

  Upon arrival, she made a beeline upstairs into her bedroom, but I asked her to sit down in the living room with me. A puzzled look, but she obliged. Not knowing where to start, I blurted out, “Where did you go after registration at school this morning?”

  A look of shock appeared on her face, followed by realisation of that fact that I knew. Initially, she tried to bluff and claim that she'd been feeling ill and had gone to see the school nurse, until I informed her that I had spoken with her teacher and she had told me about the boy and the prank. She still refused to give anything up for a few minutes until I pleaded with her that, if something was going on, I needed to know so that I could help.

  After a short while she sat in my arms sobbing, tears running down her pink cheeks, telling me about the events that had been going on at school. There were three boys in total; Jonathan Willis, Max Bennett and Richard Banks. Their abuse had ranged from the odd name calling like 'orphan' or 'Annie' while she sat in the lunch hall, to tripping her up in corridors or stealing her bag and throwing it down the stairs. Each incident resulted in a mass eruption of laughter and cheers from the other pupils, and utter humiliation for Anna.

  Heartbroken and deflated by Anna’s confession of these cruel pranks led to anger that the teachers in the school had allowed it to get to this point, and guilt that I had not seen any of the signs and been able to act sooner. Questioning my integrity as a parent, I wiped the tears from her cheeks, kissed her forehead and explained to Anna that I would be seeing Mrs Maguire, the head teacher, at the school the next day, and that I would get things straightened out. She smiled and thanked me, but she didn’t look convinced.

  The following morning, I sat opposite Mrs Maguire, a stern-looking character with piercing eyes and a strong jaw, and retold the events that my daughter had poured out to me the previous evening. I gave the names of the boys that Anna had stated, their taunting and details of the verbal, physical and intimidating abuse. I explained about Stuart’s death and the subsequent struggles, and how Anna had been affected by it all. She took various notes and explained that she, and indeed the school, did not take bullying lightly and that appropriate measures would be taken with the boys, and to form an appropriate course of action for prevention. I left her office feeling relieved and satisfied.

  Well … until I went to pick Anna up from school.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I sat in my car at the school gates twiddling with the radio, trying to find a decent station. I glanced up as Anna walked down the driveway towards me. Even without speaking to her, I could see that something was wrong; her eyes were puffy as if she'd been crying and her brown curly hair was a total mess on top of her head. Without a word, she climbed into the car and threw her bag into the foot well with a huff. I was about to ask what the hell had happened, when I noticed that she was missing her coat. I asked her if she'd left it in the cloakroom and she replied that Jonathan, Max and Richard had cornered her behind the science block. They had all been told off by their form teachers, so said that she had to pay. They had threatened that every day, they would take something from her and dump it in a bin or bury it somewhere on the school grounds, as a punishment for being a 'grass’. The coat was just the beginning. Anna burst into tears.

  The following morning, once again, I sat opposite Mrs Maguire in her office and told her about the coat and the further threats to Anna and her property. “These boys are getting worse,” I added. Once more, I was assured that this would be looked into and dealt with, but this time she added that she'd personally spoken to the boys involved and that they'd categorically denied any of the accusations made by Anna, claiming that it was attention seeking on her behalf, and that if there were no evidence provided or unless they were caught in the act, there was little she could do. “Would there be any reason for Anna to want to seek attention?” she asked. I shook my head in disbelief. “Just do your job and sort these boys out,” I replied.

  I stood up and stormed out of her office, this time, feeling annoyed and let down.

  That afternoon, I sat in my car as Anna walked down the driveway toward me. I squinted, not quite believing what my eyes were seeing. I jumped out of the car and ran towards her, panic and revulsion in my stomach as I quickly approached; she was absolutely covered from head to foot in blood.

  I reached her within a few seconds and she was, once again, sobbing uncontrollably. I grabbed her to see where the blood was coming from. It clotted in her mangled brown hair, streaked her uniform and skirt, and ran down both sides of her legs. I frantically searched her all over before breathing a massive sigh of relief that it wasn’t her blood.

  Apparently, the three boys had decided that they were going to assault her on the way home with water balloons filled with red paint. Furious, I asked her to show me who these boys were, but they had apparently sneaked through the fence at the back of the school and over the railway to avoid being seen. This was starting to get out of hand. I would give the school one last chance to sort this out and then I would take matters into my own hands. The next morning, I supplied the head teacher with photographs of what had been done to Anna, and advised that if something wasn’t done, I would consider going to the police.

  She took the photographs and looked at them in pure revulsion and shame.

  She assured me that enquiries would be made.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Home time once agai
n and today was different; today Anna skipped down the driveway towards my car, full of joy and all smiles. She jumped into the passenger seat and immediately gave me a hug and a kiss. Dumb-struck, I asked her what had happened. She replied that it was fantastic, two people had witnessed the paint attack and had reported it to the school authorities. The three boys had been called into the office that morning and had been indefinitely suspended from school. At last, it seemed that a little bit of justice had been served our way.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and gave her a hug. Hopefully, this would be the start to the end of her ordeal. Happier than I had been since I learned of all this mess, I decided to treat us to McDonalds on the way home. We sat in the restaurant, talking away happily and eating our burgers, when Anna suddenly stopped talking.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked, but she didn’t respond. Her gaze was fixed on something outside in the car park, she started to shake and turned pale. Asking what the problem was, I followed her line of sight and saw them; three boys outside on their bikes, grinning at us. “Anna, is that who I think it is?” I asked, no response came which confirmed my suspicion. I grabbed her by the hand and dragged her out of the seat, through the doors of the restaurant and quickly over to the three boys.

  “Are you the little bastards that have been picking on my daughter?” I screamed at them. “You’re lucky you got away as lightly as you did.”

  The largest of the three stepped forward, a skinny looking kid with blond spiked hair and blue grey eyes. A hint of bum fluff sat on his top lip, in lieu of a proper moustache, to complete his scowling little face. A rolled-up cigarette sat burning away between his fingers.

  “As we said to Maguire, love, we ain't done nuffin', it's her that's attention seeking. I mean, just 'cos her old man snuffed it … oh, we're sorry, love, forgot it affects you an'all,” he smirked.

  Suddenly, I saw red. I don’t know how I mustered the strength to keep my hands off him and supress the urge to throttle him there and then in the car park.

  “Stay away from my daughter or, I swear to God, I will kill you!” I screamed at him

  All of a sudden, the other two reprobates joined in with a chorus of “Oooooo!” before an outburst of laughter. I considered punching the ring leader in the mouth, which I assume was Jonathan, but it would only lead to further trouble.

  I grabbed Anna by the arm and pulled her towards the car, glancing quickly over my shoulder as the three boys continued to goad. “See you around, Annie,” shouted one of the boys from the rear while the other two were blowing kisses and throwing hand gestures.

  In the car, I told Anna to belt up and sped off, wheel spinning from the car park. I felt an anger running through me that I'd never felt before and Anna was sat beside me in floods of tears. The journey back home was spent in silence aside from the odd sob and sniffle coming from my little passenger. These boys had no respect at all, not one slight bit of remorse for their actions, such hatred at such a young age. I pulled from the road into the long driveway of our property and continued slowly through the trees into the clearway of the main building, which is when I saw the damage.

  Two of the windows on the front of the house were shattered, presumably smashed from outside by a brick or similar object being thrown through them. In two-foot-high painted graffiti across the front door, the word ‘GRASS’ had been sprayed in red paint.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I sat in the police station opposite the officer who had been assigned to take our statement, running through the details of the subsequent events leading up until now; the name calling, the physical abuse, the stolen property, the paint attack and violent damage to our property, the desecration of our home. He took my statement down in writing, asking a few questions along the way and making further notes while remaining fairly impartial. “Are you sure you have included everything that you feel is necessary?” he asked.

  “I think so. Are you going to go and arrest these people?”

  He mumbled something vaguely about the families in question being known to the police, and assured us that someone would be going around and having words.

  “Words?” I screamed. “These animals should be locked up.”

  He asked me to remain calm. They would continue with their enquiries, question the neighbours to see if anyone witnessed the criminal damage, speak to the families, the boys in particular, and warn that they stay away, but as there is no evidence at this point, they would be unable to take things any further. I tried to reason with him, stating that I knew it and he knew it, but he remained adamant that he had to follow procedure. I should go home and contact them if anything else should happen. They would be in touch in due course.

  Anna cried all the way home from the police station, clearly upset by the lack of justice and action from our law enforcement. I tried to reassure her that everything would turn out okay and that the police would do their job, it just may take a bit of time.

  She continued to cry softly. “I will never be free of those boys, I hate them.” I held my breath and squeezed her knee. I felt utterly useless.

  Sudden dark thoughts started to enter into my mind. “One way or the other, you will, sweetheart, even if I have to get rid of them myself.” I winked at her and she gave me a puzzled look, then started to laugh.

  Upon arriving home, I called the local glazing firm to come and patch up the two broken windows and paid them for their job once completed. Time was getting on for 7:30 p.m. I asked Anna if she would like to take a bath before me, and she told me to go on ahead. She would go in next as she sat on the sofa in the living room, headphones plugged into her laptop. I slowly climbed the stairs and ran a hot bath, filling the room with hot steam, and slipped in. For a few seconds, in the pure bliss and relaxation, I completely forgot about the awful events leading up to now, but shortly, those dark thoughts started to enter my mind again. She was my daughter, I'm all that she has, I can’t let her down, and I can’t expose her to danger like this.

  If I need to, I will do anything to protect her.

  Anything.

  I must have stayed in the bath for about twenty minutes, the stress of the day slowly soaking away, but struggling to stay awake, I decided that it was best to get out and refill the bath for Anna. It had been a long day for her too.

  I quickly threw on a dressing gown and wrapped a towel round my head. The water had drained by now, so I started to fill the bath with fresh water. I walked to the landing and shouted downstairs for Anna to come up and take her bath. A few seconds passed, with no response, so I shouted her again.

  Again, no response.

  Kids and their music, it’s a miracle that she wasn’t deaf.

  I walked downstairs and into the living room where she had been sat, the sight of unimaginable horror before me turned my stomach. I screamed at the top of my lungs. Anna lay on the sofa unconscious, her white school blouse soaked in blood, her right arm, slit at the wrist, hung down over the side of the sofa. A pool of blood had gathered below and started to congeal on the carpet.

  Her left wrist, also slit and rapidly leaking blood, rested on her chest, the fingers of the hand curled round a large butcher’s knife. I rushed into the kitchen and grabbed a handful of tea towels from the drawer. I began desperately wrapping them around her wrists to try and stem the bleeding, whilst speaking to the emergency services through sheets of hot tears, giving them the details of the emergency and our address. I sat hugging Anna, rocking back and forth, her pulse was still there – albeit very weak.

  My poor baby. I knew things had been bad for her, but to try and take her own life?

  I sat holding her, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. Just then, I glanced over to the screen of her laptop, open at the message section of her Facebook page. The screen displayed a message, from Jonathan Willis, that read: “You fucking grass, we're cumming for you and you're bitch of a mother 2nite. We will rape and kill you both.”

  I sat in the hospital in the intensive care unit with
Anna. Her condition had been stabilised and the doctors told me that she had lost a lot of blood, but the cuts had not been fatal as the wounds were not deep enough. I leaned over and stroked her curly brown hair, a peaceful look on her pale face as she slept in the hospital bed. I looked down at my clothes; covered in dried red stains, as were my hands.

  That's my daughter's blood on them, I thought.

  My thoughts returned to Jonathan Willis, Max Bennett, and Richard Banks.

  This would be the first blood spilled.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Wake up,” I said to him.

  There was no response, so I gave him a few gentle slaps on the cheeks to bring him back around. He groggily looked round the room, observing the plastic sheets that had been roughly pinned to the walls and floor, for ease of being discarded later.

  I had kitted out one of the rooms of the house for my little acts of revenge on these three.

  A mere forty-watt bulb hanging from the ceiling offered sufficient illumination for my needs, two extra strong hasps had been connected to the outside and the inside of the door, with two padlocks ensuring that once someone was in the room, they were not getting out. Well, not in one piece anyway. Albeit a situation born from necessity, I must admit that I'd gotten things down to a fine art now, and my little hobby had become a thing of morbid enjoyment.

  He continued to glance round the room, a look of confusion upon his face, confusion that quickly turned to fear when he saw me standing before him. His eyes widened like an animal about to be hit by a car, and he shouted something, something that was muffled by the duct tape covering his mouth. He looked down, trying to move his arms and legs that had also been strapped to the chair; he was going nowhere and he knew it.