course I’m fucking hungry.”
“Go sit down and I will get you something.” She made her way
toward the kitchen, where she went straight to the stove and the
cupboards over it. Her back to him, she listened as a chair scraped
its way across the tiled flooring and he sat heavily, banging his bottle down on the table. Her stomach growled as she cooked. She hadn’t
eaten all day. She didn’t dare make anything for herself. She chose
to starve rather than goad him. Some days it didn’t seem to matter
what she did or didn’t do, her husband beat her regardless. Glancing
from the corner of her eye to the large wedding picture that adorned
the living room wall, above the fireplace, she wondered yet again
how she had been so stupid as to end up marrying him. She still
couldn’t believe she had found herself in this predicament at twenty
two years old.
She had started dating him after that fateful first night together;
their relationship had never been a romantic one, purely physical,
29
Little Wit & Creative Goth
if she thought about it. There was something about the sex that
appealed to her, she had never explored her sexual side like she did
with Gavin. April hadn’t been particularly looking for anything long
term. Her mother seemed to think he was ‘a good catch’, even April
had to admit that he could be very charming when he put his mind
to it; he was respectful and gracious with his manners, he had goals
and ambition. Initial y she had found him intriguing and al uring. He
had presence whenever he entered a room. They had been together
only a few months when he had surprised her on her birthday with
two first class tickets to Las Vegas. The biggest surprise was when
the plane touched ground, and she was greeted by her parents and
an all singing, all dancing entourage that whisked her off to her own
surprise wedding.
Her parents rallied toward her walking down the aisle with him.
Mother was pleased to see that her future son-in-law had at least
been able to sway her wayward daughter into dressing in a more
conventional manner. April returned home with a wedding band
on her finger and a few photographs to show her being married off
by an Elvis lookalike, a look of horror in her eyes and a fake smile
plastered across her face.
Placing his meal before him, she returned to the sink to soak
the dishes in soapy water when she felt it hit her. The plate cut into
her, she cried out and fell forward, her hands flew to the stabbing
pain in her lower back; it bounced off her, hit the floor and shattered into half a dozen pieces. Before she had time to understand what
was happening, Gavin’s arms were around her neck dragging her
backwards. Automatically, she dug her nails into his arms and began
to scream. “Let me go, Gavin, let me go . . . . What have I done . . .
I haven’t done anything.”
“WHAT DO YOU CALL THIS?”
30
Behind Venetian Blinds
She twisted her head in his direction, where he held a handful
of mashed food.
“I said . . . . April . . . . What the FUCK do . . . you . . .
call . . . . this?”
She let out a low sob, her eyes wide with fear. “Your . . . .
Dinner . . . .”
Gavin let out a low laugh and tightened his grip around her neck,
“My dinner? MY DINNER . . .” She felt the spit of his fury splatter
across her face. “I wouldn’t feed this to a dog, you useless piece of
shit.” Pushing his palm into her face, he mashed food up her nostrils
and through her hair before prising her jaw open and forcing it down
her throat. “Eat it . . . Eat it, April . . . . Eat your own shit.”
Trying not to choke or vomit, she gagged as she clawed at his
arms, struggling for air as she tried to free herself from his grip.
Clamping her head firmly between his hands, he dragged her across
the room, and pushed her up against the wall, pinning her there by
the back of her neck. Shaking with fear and unable to move, she
heard the metal buckle clink softly, and the rasp of leather on denim
as he pulled his belt free in one fell swoop. She was more than aware
of what was coming next, and started screaming even before the it
connected with her skin.
Gavin began whipping at her back. “If you were a good girl, I
wouldn’t have to discipline you so much.” Feeling her weaken in his
grasp as her legs gave way, he wrapped her hair around his wrist and
yanked her to her feet as his fury gained momentum. He thrashed her
until, sweating with exertion, his anger was spent and he let her go.
April slumped onto the kitchen floor and started to retch, she felt
dizzy as the blackness descended in on her.
“GET UP APRIL . . . . GET UP . . .”
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Little Wit & Creative Goth
Oh, I am in so much trouble, she thought, as she tried desperately to get to her feet but she couldn’t, she collapsed back onto the floor, droplets of sweat gathering on her forehead as the pain intensified.
Trembling; she attempted to get on her knees again.
He kicked her in the stomach and sent her sprawling. “Fucking
waste of space. Fucking whore, fucking good for nothing fat ugly
whore,” he spat at her, and turned and left.
32
Chapter 5
The paths you try to avoid are the ones you
eventual y find yourself treading.
Creative Goth
Sienna stepped off the bus, stuffed her hands into her pockets
and began the walk home. In no hurry to face Jay, she decided
to take the scenic route, and found her feet taking her in the
direction of the doctors’ surgery.
Lying on her back, her lower half undressed, an internal
confirmed that yes indeed, she was pregnant. Eyes fixed to the ceiling, arms folded tensely across her chest, soles of her feet touching, she
wondered if this procedure could harm the baby. The doctor glanced
briefly at her, his eyes full of accusation and disapproval. Her mother was right, she was unworthy: she knew this, that she was an easy
lay that would never surmount to anything. Sienna’s cheeks burned
deeply with shame, biting down hard on her lip to will back the tears,
she floated off to her cloud and found herself looking down at the
little girl, with long dark, nearly black hair.
“Bird, you OK?” Did you have a nice party, bird?”
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Little Wit & Creative Goth
“Yes.” The little girl with long dark, nearly black hair looked up at
her mother and nodded, her big brown eyes glowing with excitement
from her birthday party as she played in the bath with her new Tiny
Tears dol .
“Put your head back, bird. So I can wash your hair.”
She put her head back and squeezed her eyes shut tight, like she
always did, so the shampoo wouldn’t smart and sting.
“There you go, bird.” Her mother twisted the water out of her hair
and smoothed it back over her shoulders.
“Want to play a game, now you’re a big girl of six, bird?”
“Can I?”
“Only if you can keep it secret.” Sienna grinned, this sounded like
fun. Mum had never told her a secret before. Normal y she just yel ed
at her or smacked her for doing something wrong. It was always her
brother Darren that Mum shared secrets with, like when they sat and
whispered and giggled together, and didn’t let Sienna in on it.
“Promise you won’t tel anyone, bird?”
“I promise.”
She slipped out of her clothes and into the bath. Mum had never got
in the bath with her before, and she had never seen her with no clothes
on, but she didn’t pay any attention, for she was only six years old and
this was her mother. Sienna wriggled up to the end of the bath to make
room for Mum.
“Here, come sit on my knee, bird.”
She wasn’t sure she wanted to sit on her knee, Mum never gave
her cuddles or let her sit on her knee. She looked at her mother’s large,
flabby white thighs, which seemed to shrink the bath water. “Come
here.” Her tone was stern and she sounded cross for some reason, but
then she smiled.
“Come here, Sienna, it’s okay.”
34
Behind Venetian Blinds
She never knew if Mum was going to be sad or happy. She hated it
when Mum got mad, more than anything in the world, Sienna wanted
to make her happy. Clambering up onto her knee, her doll trailing face
downward in the bathwater in her left hand, Sienna sat with her back
facing her. The little girl with long dark, nearly black hair looked so sad
and forlorn as she sat there in uncertainty.
“You cold?” Sienna nodded, her teeth chattering as she shivered, sat
up on high on her mother’s knee, out of the bath water.
Her mum swished the warm water up in between her legs. “Is that
better, bird, does that feel nice and warm?”
She wasn’t sure if this was part of the game, and she didn’t think
she liked it much. There was something odd about her mum.
Her voice was thick and cloudy and the space between them seemed
to have closed, maybe she was squishing her. She shuffled forward
slightly to make more room between them.
She felt her mother’s hands cup between her legs and pull her back
towards her, into her mounds of white fleshy breasts that hung over
into the water. She felt goosebumps form on her arms, and although
she knew it wasn’t because of the cold that she shuddered, she couldn’t
quite pinpoint what it was that was making her tummy feel sick, like it
was doing flips in the air. She held her there and squeezed gently for a
moment, it tingled pleasantly; a warming sensation spreading through
her abdomen. Sienna squirmed away, but her mother held her tightly
so that she couldn’t move. Sienna turned around to look at her and
started to cry. She wasn’t sure why she was crying, it wasn’t like she
was hurting her or anything. Maybe it was the way her mother’s jaw
had slackened or the way her eyes had drooped and her breathing had
gone all funny. Her hand pushed her legs further apart and she felt a
stabbing pain, high up, somewhere inside her, and she thought she was
going to pass out as black dots swam in front of her eyes.
35
Little Wit & Creative Goth
This was the first time that Sienna remembered being able to leave
the little girl down below and look at her from above. She was safe up
here, cocooned and cushioned from what was going on around her.
The little girl down below looked so sad and scared that she almost
felt sorry for her.
“I know it hurts, bird. I hurt all the time, Sienna. I hurt because
your daddy won’t come home, because I have to look after you. If you
weren’t here, then Mummy wouldn’t hurt so much, would she, bird?”
“No.”
“So, now you know what it feels like to hurt and that’s our secret,
and what makes us both friends . . . OK, bird?”
She watched from her cloud as the little girl below gained some kind
of awareness of her situation. She knew that this wasn’t a game and
that she hadn’t been good, but for a six year old how could she clearly
understand the consequences of those acts?
Her cloud dissipated as the doctor pulled off his examination
gloves and snapped tersely at her to get dressed. Sienna did so numbly.
Stepping out from behind the screen, he handed her an appointment
card which she stuffed into her pocket, and left without another
word.
Going home via the off license, she bought a slab of beer for Jay
and a bottle of wine for herself. She was planning on getting absolutely wasted. Humping the plastic carrier bag home, she let herself into
the main door and trudged up the stairs to their flat. The strains of
Zeppelin’s ‘Kashmir’ filtered through from the lounge area. Her heart
sank another notch. She trudged the flight of stairs bargaining with
herself; “Alone. Not alone. Alone. Not alone. I place ten quid on not
alone.” Turning the brass door knob, a thick fog of smoke smarted in
her eyes, a nice mixture of cigs, joss sticks and dope. Sienna surveyed 36
Behind Venetian Blinds
the mess before her. Jay lay sprawled across their sofa, his long legs
propped up on the wall, joint clamped between his lips, a glass of
Sauvignon Merlot in hand, and the remainder of the bottle airing
at room temperature; just how he liked it. And what else; an empty
one that he’d drunk earlier by its side, a rolled up five pound note
containing remnants of cocaine, all littering the coffee table amongst
the mountain of marijuana, tobacco, skins and matches. Just another
normal set up in her lounge for four in the afternoon. Three of his
mates were in similar positions around their living space. Sienna
coughed, the thick smoke suffocating her lungs and smarting in her
eyes.
He turned to her with a glazed expression in his eyes. “SIEN
NNNNNNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAA”, Jay sang in time with Robert Plant.
‘Fucking hell, Jay, ever heard of fresh air?” She crossed the room
and opened the window.
Jay sat up, lunging forward for the booze.
“What took ye so long? Bejaysus, woman, I’m parched.”
“Jay, I need to speak with you.”
He gulped down a can, crumpled it in his hand, belched loudly,
and tossed it onto the floor under the table. He reached for another.
“Go on then, what’s to do with you?”
Sienna hesitated. “I mean, privately.”
He grimaced at her. Snapped open the second lager and poured
half of it down his throat. He belched again.
“What’s up, Si . . . . C’mon and have a drink . . . Do you want a
wee smoke, or a line of something . . . C’mon, Si, take a chill pill.”
“No, Jay . . . A word, in private. Now.”
“OCH, SI . . . .”
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Little Wit & Creative Goth
“NOW.” She stalked from the room, thinking how much he
reminded her of a tempestuous child. She waited outside the door
until she heard him move, muttering something to his mates about
the ball and chain, which elicited a spattering of laughter. She lay her hand on the banister, fingers tapping on it impatiently.
He stumbled through the door, pul ing it closed behind him, stil
holding onto his beer tightly as he weaved unsteadily in front of her.
“So, what is it that’s so important . . . . Emer-gen-cia . . . . Like?”
She stared at him in silence before opening her mouth and
shutting it again, not sure if she wanted to hear her own words
spoken out loud. When you said things out loud it made them real.
“Och, c’mon, Si? . . . . Spit it out, like, I wanna go relax.”
She blurted it quickly, there was no nice way to say it. “I booked
in for an abortion.”
She searched his face for a sign that he felt something, some kind of emotion should have registered by now . . . surely?
Jay weaved again, then stepped forward and kissed her on the
forehead. “Good girl, Si, I knew you’d see sense and get it sorted.
C’mon and join me and the lads, they’ve been asking why you’ve not
joined us for a smoke yet.”
She wondered if she would have got more of a response if she’d
told him she’d forgotten the liquor. She was pretty certain that she
would have, because that was something mattered to him. “Is that
it? ‘Good girl ’, is that all you’ve got to say about it?” “Och, don’t start, Si.” Jay gulped down his beer.
Turning her back to him so he wouldn’t see the tears well in her
eyes, she stalked into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her.
She sat on the bed smoking cigarettes, and sipping cold Chardonnay,
the omnipresent bass emanating through the walls dimmed and
faded as she retreated to that safe place on her cloud.
38
Behind Venetian Blinds
Eventually, she wandered back to the lounge and turned the
stereo off. Jay’s friends had long since departed, apart from Steven,
who had practically moved in, she thought as she hurled his dirty
clothing into her laundry basket. Jay lay in a drunken stupor, legs
hanging over the edge of the sofa. She laid a bowl where his face
would automatically land when he started puking, and stood staring
down onto the deserted street below. Pulling the appointment card
from her worn pocket, she turned it over and over in her hands before
daring to look at it. It read, ‘Day procedure’; she almost laughed. Was this the latest ‘in’ word for abortion? She stared at the date set for ten days’ time, Friday week, twenty fourth of August at nine o’clock. She
looked up as Jay began to shift uncomfortably.
“Si . . . Si, are you there? Si, I think I’m gonna puke.” Leaning
over the bowl, he threw up loudly.
Sienna raised her eyes to the ceiling, stuffed the card back into
her pocket and, crossing the room, went out the door and into the
bedroom. Bouncing down on the bed, she folded her arms across
her stomach in a protective gesture. She felt cold, and so low. She
was tired of her life; her life was bullshit, all of it! She lay down and yanked the duvet up over her head to block out the sound of Jay
vomiting, and quickly fell into a fitful sleep.
39
Chapter 6
Ridicule is not an argument. Better to go gooseberry picking instead.
Little Wit
Sienna looked at April’s hollowed and drawn expression, arms
huddled tight around her diminishing waist, stiffened frame
leaning against the toilet door of Rose Ward. She wore her
ritual full make up; blue eyeliner complemented shaded earthy tones
over her brows, finished with jet black mascara that accentuated the
natural length of her long lashes. Hints of blusher swept along her
cheekbones, the whole look completed by deep pink painted lips.
She idled over the bruised cheek bone, and noted how April’s hand
shook as she raised her cigarette to her mouth. And she saw that no
amount of carefully applied make-up could disguise the black circles
under her eyes.
Catching her stare, April flicked her stub into the toilet bowl and
turned to face her, her arms folded tensely across her body. “What do
you keep staring at, Sienna?”
“Whoa with the aggressive attitude, April.”
April snorted haughtily at her and tossed her head in derision.
“Who’s aggressive?”
40
Behind Venetian Blinds
Sienna pursed her lips slowly; nodded her head in April’s
direction. “Gavin for one, that’s for sure.”
April’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the sides of her cardigan
tightly and pulled it closer to her body.
Sienna weighed her up quickly. This was completely out of
character for April. She never behaved like this to anyone. “What’s
he done this time, April? What has your husband done to you now?
I don’t feel you tell me the whole truth of it, and I think he’s done
something pretty severe this time . . . I can see it in your eyes. What has he done to you?”
April flinched at her words. Stepping back slightly, her challenge
abated, her folded arms slid into a self-comforting hug around her
waist. She looked at the floor, not sure what to say, and then back at
Sienna.
“Talk to me, April . . . C’mon, talk to me . . . . This cannot go
on . . . . Talk to me.”
April stared at her a moment, and then slowly pulled her sweater
over her head, continuing to stare pointedly as she did so. Sienna felt sick at what she saw, it was questionable where there was unharmed
skin. Raised angry welts and weeping sores covered her back.
Stepping back, she swallowed hard and watched as April covered
up her battered body and lit another cigarette.
“You HAVE to leave him.” “And go where?”
Sienna stared at her, incredulous. “Mine, where else? My place,
of course, you have to leave him, April.”
April went rigid, her face paled and her lips set in a hard line. Her
hand grasping her hip, she leaned forward into Sienna. “You listen
to me now, Sienna, and listen well because I will NEVER speak to
you about this again . . . . I cannot leave Gavin because no matter
where I go, he will find me and the consequences will be far worse