ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror(37)

Andrew screamed again at Frankie, ordering him to get out of his home, but the demands fell on deaf ears. Frankie dragged Pen down onto the floor and yanked a thick clump of her hair. Then he cut it with the scissors. She began to weep as strands of her soft brown hair fell to the carpet in front of her.

Less than ten minutes later, Frankie had hacked every hair from Pen’s head, leaving behind several clumps of ragged stubble. When Pen gazed up at Andrew, she looked like a different person – bold with a face stained black with smeared mascara. Andrew’s chest hurt and for a moment he thought he was having a heart attack. Then he realised it was just the grief of seeing his wife humiliated this way. Andrew joined in her sobbing.

Frankie was grinning. “She looks much hotter now, don’t ya think?”

Andrew spat. “Fuck you!”

Frankie rushed forward and struck Andrew across his face. Stars invaded his vision and he wondered if the blow had broken his jaw. He moved it left and right, sparking extra pain, but was satisfied that it hadn’t.

“Come on, Frankie,” said Davie. “You’ve made your point. They’re both in tears. Let’s go.”

Frankie turned and pointed the scissors at Davie and shook his head. “I ain’t even getting started yet, little bro.”

“What did this guy do to you?” Davie asked. Andrew wondered about the answer himself.

Frankie’s lip twitched as his anger seemed to rise. “Why do you care so much, man? He’s just some stuck-up cunt with a flash car who thinks his shit don’t stink.”

Is that it? Andrew thought. Is this whole thing just because I have a nice car? This whole nightmare is down to some insecure thug resenting me, jealous of what I have?

“What’s your problem, little D,” asked Michelle. “Just chill your f*ckin’ beans, twat!”

“Hey,” said Frankie, pointing the scissors at his girlfriend. “Don’t talk to him like that.” Frankie threw the scissors down onto the table and approached his brother, putting an arm around him on the sofa. “Davie’s just a bit sensitive, ain’t that right? He worries a lot, but means no harm?”

Davie nodded. “I just don’t like any of this. It’s going to end badly.”

“Yeah, for him,” said Dom, pointing to Andrew.

Andrew sat silently, bewildered by what was becoming some sort of surreal soap opera: people bickering casually in front of him whilst he was held captive in his own living room.

Davie helped Pen back onto the sofa, pulling her up by a handful of duct tape at her back. Then he sat back down beside her. For some reason, Andrew decided, Davie seemed protective over Pen. Andrew wondered if it stemmed from issues with his own mother.

Andrew turned his head to the floor as a noise alerted him. When he saw what was making it, he felt nauseous. Things were about to get worse.

Frankie looked down at Bex who was stirring on the floor. He grinned. “Well, lookey here. Little miss fine-ass is finally joining us. Now we can really step things up. Let’s see how much of a party-girl she is.”

Andrew watched Frankie approach his daughter. For the first time in his life, he prayed to god.





Chapter Thirteen


Andrew had never seen a person wake up screaming before, but that’s just what Bex did. As soon as she regained consciousness, the agony of her broken wrist kicked in.

Frankie marched forward and kicked her in the ribs, knocking loose every last ounce of breath she had in her lungs. “Keep it the-f*ck-down!”

Bex’s screams turned to inward gasping. The hissing sound she made was like the venting air-brakes of a bus.

“Please,” Andrew pleaded. “Please, just leave my family alone. Do what you want to me…”

Frankie winked at Andrew as if they were old buddies. “I’m going to do that anyway, mate, so what exactly are you trying to negotiate with?”

“For god’s sake, Frankie. Have some decency. My family have done nothing to you.”

Frankie strolled over to Andrew and perched himself on the armrest of the chair. “I say otherwise. People like you look down their noses at people like me; think you can treat us like dirt. Doesn’t matter if it’s you or your women, you all think you’re better.”

“We are better!” Pen hissed from behind him.

Frankie clicked his fingers. “There’s my proof. Your wife thinks I’m a piece of shit.”