ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror(9)

Andrew pushed Frankie back out the door. “You leave my family the-f*ck alone.”

Frankie said nothing. He just smiled, standing on the path as if waiting for something.

Andrew realised what Frankie was waiting for. He sighed, picked up the Nike trainers from the shoe rack, and tossed them out of the door. “Here!” he snarled. “Now just leave me the f*ck alone, you jackal.”

Frankie smiled. “You think I’m going to pick ‘em up off the floor? Go get them and hand them to me properly.”

Andrew shook his head. “Are you serious?”

Frankie stared at Andrew. His hand reached for his pocket again.

Andrew threw his hands up in the air. “Fine! It would be my goddamn pleasure.” He stepped outside and gathered up the shoes from the pavement. Then he returned to Frankie and thrust the trainers into the lad’s arms. “Now leave me alone.”

Frankie nodded as he examined his new possessions. “Deal’s a deal, mate. Have a nice life.”

Frankie walked away just as another figure walked up the path in the opposite direction. When the man reached the porch, he held a brown paper bag out to Andrew. “Chinese delivery?”

Andrew took the bag from the man and tried his best to smile, but it was impossible, so he just paid for the food and gave a good tip instead. The last thing he felt right now was hungry. In fact he felt downright sick.





Chapter Three


Getting to sleep was a long and lonely struggle. Pen had started her gentle snoring as soon as her head hit the pillow, but Andrew had lay next to her for what seemed like hours, staring up at the ceiling, his head swirling with unwanted thoughts.

The movie Bex made him watch was disturbing, full of monsters and giant insects feasting on the flesh of the living. The ending had been bleak and depressing, but Bex seemed to enjoy it, grinning between each mouthful of egg foo yung.

The film wasn’t what was keeping Andrew awake, though. Frankie haunted his mind like a relentless boogieman, terrorising his dreams. Every time sleep came, Frankie’s scarred, twitching face would jar him Andrew back awake. It was now 4:00AM according to the LED clock on the bedside table.

Three hours till work. God knows how I’m going to get through the day on zero sleep.

Andrew’s job as an Ad Exec wasn’t physically taxing, but it did require concentration. The project he was working on at the mument for a Soda company was especially important – the rebranding of a nationally-recognised product. The stress of last night’s events was a concern he could do without.

Andrew took a deep breath and closed his eyes. If there was any chance of getting an iota of sleep, he would need to clear his mind. He needed to forget that he had allowed an adolescent bully to take his trainers as if he was some helpless child and not the successful family man that he was. The humiliation weighed down so heavily that Andrew felt like his skull may split open, spilling the memories of his cowardice all over the pillow.

4:40AM.

The minutes flew by and Andrew’s mind flittered between numb consciousness and troubled sleep. His waking thoughts were so vivid that they merged seamlessly with his dreams, to the point that he had no idea whether he was asleep or awake.

5:01AM

Noise. From downstairs.

Andrew’s eyes snapped open.

He was sure the noises had been real, that he had been awake to hear them and not simply imagining things in his sleep. It sounded like a door opening.

5:13AM.

Another sound.

Somehow, Andrew had snoozed another ten minutes, the beckoning embrace of sleep managing to override his grasp on reality. But now he was fully awake, sat up in bed as he listened to yet more sounds from downstairs.

Footsteps.

Someone was inside the house.

Andrew heard another sound, this one closer. He realised it was just Pen snoring, but it was no relief. There was someone inside his home.

Someone rifling through our things.

Andrew summoned the courage to get out of bed, reinforcing himself with indignant anger at someone invading his family’s privacy. Greasy Chinese food worked its way up his gullet as a thick, syrupy mixture of fear and loathing took a hold of his body. His legs wobbled as he set them down on the soft carpet. There had been no more sounds from downstairs, but Andrew was sure that there had been a break in. His thoughts now turned to what the result of that would be.

Have they cleared us out? Taken everything?

Andrew’s mouth filled with saliva. He had to swallow several times as he exited the bedroom into the unlit landing. Bex’s door was open, as usual, and he could not fight the urge to look inside and check on her as he passed by.