ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror(6)

Frankie straightened back up and kissed his boney fist like a trophy. “Come on, gangsters,” he said. “Let’s leave this piece of shit to eat his chips up off the floor. We’ll carry this on another day. Nice trainers by the way, mate. Got to get me a pair of those.”

Andrew rolled onto his side and groaned as the teenagers left him on the floor. Gradually – very gradually – his breath came back to him in great heaving gasps. The noises coming from his throat sounded like a pod of distressed dolphins. Part of him wished for his family to run out and comfort him, but another part – a bigger part – made the thought of them seeing him like this intolerable. Andrew tried to get to his feet, using his palms against the floor to steady him. He was shaken and felt sick – sicker than he’d ever felt – but his stomach just about managed to control itself. When he looked down at the scattered chips and mashed-up cod on the floor he realised he was crying. Several lonely tears crept down his cheeks and left freezing-cold trails behind them. He didn’t know if they’d been caused by the pain, fear, shame, or humiliation. The fact that someone had frightened him to tears made Andrew feel pathetic. The fact it was a teenager made him feel even more so.

He shot forward and heaved up the meagre contents of his near-empty stomach, coating the discarded chips on the floor in a hot broth of the undigested coffee and biscuits he’d eaten earlier.

Three minutes later, Andrew wiped his mouth and started the long, lonely journey up the path to his house. It no longer felt like home.





Chapter Two


Andrew sank down on the bench inside the porch and took several deep, painful breaths. Then he kicked off his trainers and just sat there for a while. He’d already hung up his coat and could have gone inside, but for some reason he just couldn’t. Something was holding him in place. It felt like his very presence inside the house would infect his family with something terrible.

I’m too ashamed to face them.

But I can’t stay here all night.

No one had come out during the attack and that could only mean Pen and Bex didn’t witness what happened. It was a major relief to Andrew, but still didn’t change the fact that he’d just been assaulted.

Do I call the police?

Andrew’s mind was a muddle. He couldn’t think straight. In a lot of ways he’d not yet fully accepted reality to the point of resolution. The situation was still murky and unclear. For now, he decided, he would will himself back to his feet and go inside the house. He wasn’t going to find any answers alone in the porch.

He stepped through into the hallway.

Pen was coming down the stairs. She wore her fluffy pink dressing gown and was rubbing at her hair with a towel. She’d obviously decided to fit in a quick shower while he’d gone to get the chips.

Damn it! The chips… What do I say?

“Hi, Hun,” Pen said, smiling. “You okay?”

Andrew nodded. “Fine.”

“Where’s the food?”

“It’s…well it’s…”

Pen placed a hand against his cheek. “Andrew, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he answered quickly. “Bloody chip shop had a problem with their fryers; had to close early. Wasted journey.”

“That’s okay,” Pen said. She looked concerned; she knew something was up with him. “We’ll just order Chinese then, or something else. Whatever we fancy.”

“Sounds good,” Andrew said. He felt like breaking down in her arms and sobbing right then and there, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“Honey, you really don’t seem yourself. Has something happened?”

Andrew shook his head and pushed her away. “I’ve just got a stomach-ache coming on. Think I’ll have a bath and go to bed. You and Bex eat without me, okay?”

Pen frowned. “You said you’d watch a film with her.”

Andrew started up the stairs. “Sorry for getting ill. I’ll try not to be so f*cking inconsiderate next time.”

There was no reply behind him and Andrew knew it was because his wife was shocked. He was a mild-mannered man and outbursts were not his style – especially ones containing foul language.

I shouldn’t take things out on her. She’s just concerned about me.

Hell, I’m concerned about me.

Andrew reached the top of the stairs and turned left towards the bathroom. He opened the door and stepped inside, pulling the plastic-dolphin light-cord hanging beside his head. The bulb flickered on above him and hurt his eyes with its harsh glare reflecting off the white wall-tiles. Somehow the pain in his retinas seemed to reactivate the pain in his abdomen and he doubled over. He dropped down to his knees and leant against the bathtub, reaching across and turning both taps on at once. He listened to the soothing gush of fresh water for a few seconds, then slipped the plug into the drain and let the tub fill up.