sit the exams. Maybe Iâll get some money together, go travelling. Get out of here.â
âBut Damon, Damon.â Heâs giggling like a girl now. âYou wouldnât be, you know mate, you wouldnât be, be into it.â
âWhat are you saying? That I wouldnât be into it or I wouldnât be any good at it?â
âYou got to have experience.â Moeâs pressing his lips together. He knows Iâm fully aware heâs not talking about pigs. Once in a weak moment I told him how shit-scared I was holding Archieâs revolver that night at camp. That I knew nothing about guns. That Iâd only assumed it wasnât loaded because I didnât want to check it myself.
But working for the Pigman, I could learn it all.
Â
MY BACK IS PRESSED AGAINST the tiles, my knees bent like Iâm squatting on air. The cold water runs down my face before hitting each kneecap. I am trying to zap some life into my body.
The fifth night of no sleep. In the dark, Iâm like a little boy frightened by tales of monsters lurking inside my wardrobe. Except this time there is a monster in my wardrobe and Iâm not little any more.
Thereâs a tiny package containing three yellow sleeping pills in my drawer. âI donât think so,â I hear myself say. âTheir expiry dateâs well past.â
When I come out of the bathroom I see my bedroom door is open. The urge to charge in there is overwhelming. But I tell myself to be calm. Calm is the key. Panic will only have you discovered.
My feet inch slowly towards the doorway, like Iâm taking fairy steps trying not to make a sound. Is this how they will creep down the hallway when they come for me, I wonder. So softly, so as not to even rattle the china cats in the cabinet?
I wrap the towel tighter around my waist. The entrance to my bedroom is now right in front of me. Mum is standing by my desk. Sheâs touching something on the shelf above.
âHi love,â she says, even though her back is turned to me.
âWhat ââ I stop and try to make myself sound like a reasonable person asking a reasonable question. âWhat are you doing in my room?â But each word feels heavy, as if my tongue has gone to sleep.
âIâm just lookinâ at them Warhammer people ya done.â She turns around and sheâs smiling. âHow old were ya when ya painted these? Twelve?â
I nod even though sheâs wrong.
âTheyâre real neat, son.â She starts to walk away but turns and fixes her eyes on me. I try to make my face soft, like no matter what she is about to say I will smile and agree. âDamon, ya know itâs almost gone three oâclock in the afternoon. Ya been sleepinâ a lot.â
My mouth has formed a perfect âOâ like the clowns in a sideshow alley. What would happen if I told her I can only sleep when itâs light, that weâre not safe when itâs dark? But my jaw doesnât move because every muscle is jammed. Behind this soft face is another thought: What has my mother been doing in my room?
âOkay. Well, glad ya up now,â she says, and closes the door.
My desk looks untouched. Last night, while waiting for Cleopatra666 to log on, I cleared everything off it. Now my PC sits here alone, keeping watch. What Iâd like to do is rig up a surveillance system to check if the old girlâs snooping. Or maybe itâd be better to aim it out the window to see whoâs looking in. But this year Iâve already smashed two webcams and itâs starting to cost.
I open the first drawer of my desk. The form to renew my gun licence still sits at the top. Last night I took it out of the pile of mail. I may end up needing it.
It doesnât look like Mumâs snooped. The drawerâs still a mess and crammed with pens that donât work, my full set of Australiaâs Worst Crimes magazines and general crap.
The
âBut Damon, Damon.â Heâs giggling like a girl now. âYou wouldnât be, you know mate, you wouldnât be, be into it.â
âWhat are you saying? That I wouldnât be into it or I wouldnât be any good at it?â
âYou got to have experience.â Moeâs pressing his lips together. He knows Iâm fully aware heâs not talking about pigs. Once in a weak moment I told him how shit-scared I was holding Archieâs revolver that night at camp. That I knew nothing about guns. That Iâd only assumed it wasnât loaded because I didnât want to check it myself.
But working for the Pigman, I could learn it all.
Â
MY BACK IS PRESSED AGAINST the tiles, my knees bent like Iâm squatting on air. The cold water runs down my face before hitting each kneecap. I am trying to zap some life into my body.
The fifth night of no sleep. In the dark, Iâm like a little boy frightened by tales of monsters lurking inside my wardrobe. Except this time there is a monster in my wardrobe and Iâm not little any more.
Thereâs a tiny package containing three yellow sleeping pills in my drawer. âI donât think so,â I hear myself say. âTheir expiry dateâs well past.â
When I come out of the bathroom I see my bedroom door is open. The urge to charge in there is overwhelming. But I tell myself to be calm. Calm is the key. Panic will only have you discovered.
My feet inch slowly towards the doorway, like Iâm taking fairy steps trying not to make a sound. Is this how they will creep down the hallway when they come for me, I wonder. So softly, so as not to even rattle the china cats in the cabinet?
I wrap the towel tighter around my waist. The entrance to my bedroom is now right in front of me. Mum is standing by my desk. Sheâs touching something on the shelf above.
âHi love,â she says, even though her back is turned to me.
âWhat ââ I stop and try to make myself sound like a reasonable person asking a reasonable question. âWhat are you doing in my room?â But each word feels heavy, as if my tongue has gone to sleep.
âIâm just lookinâ at them Warhammer people ya done.â She turns around and sheâs smiling. âHow old were ya when ya painted these? Twelve?â
I nod even though sheâs wrong.
âTheyâre real neat, son.â She starts to walk away but turns and fixes her eyes on me. I try to make my face soft, like no matter what she is about to say I will smile and agree. âDamon, ya know itâs almost gone three oâclock in the afternoon. Ya been sleepinâ a lot.â
My mouth has formed a perfect âOâ like the clowns in a sideshow alley. What would happen if I told her I can only sleep when itâs light, that weâre not safe when itâs dark? But my jaw doesnât move because every muscle is jammed. Behind this soft face is another thought: What has my mother been doing in my room?
âOkay. Well, glad ya up now,â she says, and closes the door.
My desk looks untouched. Last night, while waiting for Cleopatra666 to log on, I cleared everything off it. Now my PC sits here alone, keeping watch. What Iâd like to do is rig up a surveillance system to check if the old girlâs snooping. Or maybe itâd be better to aim it out the window to see whoâs looking in. But this year Iâve already smashed two webcams and itâs starting to cost.
I open the first drawer of my desk. The form to renew my gun licence still sits at the top. Last night I took it out of the pile of mail. I may end up needing it.
It doesnât look like Mumâs snooped. The drawerâs still a mess and crammed with pens that donât work, my full set of Australiaâs Worst Crimes magazines and general crap.
The
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