he was, keeping an eye on the knife as Dizz-ee waved it slowly around like a wand. ‘Or shit, maybe I was right. You a gay boy really?’
‘Jake,’ rasped Leona, ‘come back . . . please come back.’
‘No, Jake,’ said Dizz-ee, ‘come and get me.’
He’s scared, too. Jacob could hear it in his voice. The slightest tremble.
‘Oh, yeah, we’re gonna’ show your mum a good time on that lady rig.’
‘Jacob,’ whispered Leona. ‘Jacob . . . please. Don’t.’
So quiet in this small, hot fetid room. Nothing but the sound of all three of them breathing, and the gentle far-off thud of music.
‘You comin’, gay boy, or what?’
‘Jake, it’s all right,’ said Leona. ‘I’m all right.’
He lowered his hands slightly and took a small shuffled step backwards.
‘Look . . . I’m sorry, Dizz-ee,’ he uttered, his voice the gentle murmur of defeat. ‘Really sorry for hitting you.’
Dizz-ee straightened up; taller and wider than Jacob, he looked down at him.
‘You are a fuckin’ gay boy.’
Jacob leapt for the knife and grasped it in both hands. Dizz-ee tried pulling it free and Jacob felt the blade slide along his fingers, knowing it was sliding deep. Both hands busy trying to keep hold on the knife, he used his head, smashing it forward into Dizz-ee’s face.
Dizz-ee rocked back against the wall clutching at his crushed nose with his free hand and screaming in agony. Quickly Jacob let go of the knife with one hand, made a fist and punched Dizz-ee in the face again. The blow landed hard on the tip of his jaw. His legs buckled and he slid down the wall, still holding on to the knife, the blade slick with blood from Jacob’s hand.
Jacob looked around for something else to use as a weapon.
He saw the metal bucket.
Grasping the handle he swung it high over his shoulder, surprised at how heavy it was despite being empty. He brought it down, aiming for the boy’s head, but it glanced off his shoulder.
Jacob gave up on the idea of wrestling for the knife. He let go with his other hand and now, with two hands on the bucket’s handle, he had better control of the heavy thing. Dizz-ee, still stunned by the last blow, flailed blindly with the knife. It glinted and flashed dangerously in the glow of the strip light above. But Jacob dodged it.
He swung the bucket up over his shoulder again and this time, with the strength of both arms, he brought it down hard.
The contact sounded thick and damaging; a metal rim contacting and cracking bone. Dizz-ee grunted and flopped forward onto the floor and the mattress in front of him.
‘Jacob!’ whimpered Leona.
He couldn’t bring himself to stop. The bucket came down again on the back of the boy’s head. Another dull crack of bone beneath the baseball cap. And again.
And again. This time the cap fell off, revealing the back of Dizz-ee’s head. The scalp was split, and the skull beneath was dented; like a heavy thumb mark on a plasticine model.
He was about to swing it down again.
‘Jake!!’ Leona cried.
He stopped. Even to his inexperienced eyes it was obvious Dizz-ee was dead. Blood pooled from the dent in the back of his head, down across his neck and soaked into the mattress.
‘Oh, Jacob . . .’
He looked down at his sister. She was reaching out for him, no longer caring to cover up her naked bruised body. Her hand pressed against the side of his torso and she was sobbing.
‘It’s okay, Lee,’ he said. ‘It’s okay. I done him in.’
She shook her head.
‘I’ll get you out . . . me and Nathan’ll get you . . .’
But she didn’t seem to be listening to him.
He felt burned out from the exertion. Light-headed from the release. The adrenalin was spent and the rush suddenly gone. He wondered if this was how soldiers felt after a battle. Not so much exhausted by the blows they’d landed but from the sudden absence of whatever had coursed through their veins to give them courage. All of a sudden he wished there was a comfy armchair in this room for him to flop down into.
Leona’s arms were around him as he settled down dizzily to his knees.
‘You okay, Lee?’ he slurred, wondering whether that was the cider finally catching up on him.
‘I’m okay,’ she whispered softly. ‘I’m okay.’
He realised then that she was actually cradling him in her arms, her face overhanging his, looking down at him, her tears dropping onto his