Diary of a Hairy Beast

Dear Diary,

Holy crap, holy crap. I don’t even know why I’m writing, but I suppose it’s the only way I can keep my sanity. Mum’s dead.

I came home from school and she was upstairs with one of her ‘boyfriends’. I was used to the fact that my Mum was unfaithful, which disgusted me. Especially these last few months as Dad had been away on ‘business’. She slept with anything that walked. I left the house and went for a walk when I walked past Bobby Fenton.

“Hey Beast!” He shouted, laughing. “Why don’t I come over to your house? I’ve heard that it’s fun over there!”
His gang laughed, but I stood speechless.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“I could probably get more action over at yours in one night than what any guy would get in a year!” He roared with laughter.
“What are you talking about!” I shouted.
“See for yourself,” he thrust a stack of photos into my hands. “Have fun!” And they walked off chortling.

I flicked through the pictures and they fell out of my hands. They were of my Mum. She was wearing schoolgirl outfits, police outfits twirling handcuffs, Indiana Jones clutching her whip, suspenders and it was disgusting. Her phone number was at the bottom of the picture along with a slogan.
“Let’s get ready to rumble.”

I felt physically sick. It wasn’t like we didn’t have money, Dad’s drug dealing days saw to that. She was a prostitute, and not even for money. She was a prostitute for fun.

My breathing became heavy and I ran back to the house to confront her. I stood outside the house when I noticed Dad’s car. He was home early. I ran to the front door and grabbed the handle. I rattled the door as hard as I could, but it wouldn’t open. I ran to the side of the house, jumping onto the bin and over the fence. I tore through the garden and wrenched open the back door.

“You dirty whore!” I heard my Dad roar as Mum screamed. I tore up the stairs.
“You’re never here!” She cried.
“So I’m not good enough for you? If I can’t have you, no one can have you!”

Mum’s scream was piercing. It rang through my ears like a thousand bells. My head span and I moved towards the door and peered through the crack. Dad plunged the knife into her chest, pulled it out and drove it through her head. Her mahogany brown hair was stained with blood. Dad then moved slowly towards Mum’s ‘client’ who was trembling under the window. From the light of the sun I could see the wedding ring on his finger glisten. Dad grabbed him by the neck and squeezed. He moved away from the dead man and I ran to my bedroom and hid in the wardrobe..

I trembled and shook with fear, I dared not come out of hiding until Dad had left. I heard the front door slam and I tore from my place of sanctuary to see Mum. I burst into her bedroom and her lifeless body lay on the floor. She wasn’t peaceful, her face was contorted with pain and tears were strewn on her ice-cold cheeks. Mum was dead.

I grabbed the telephone by the side of her bed, my hands were still shaking.
“999, what is your emergency?” the woman said.
“I live at 64 Acacia Road, my Mum is, is… “
“What’s wrong? We can help you.”
“My Dad just killed my Mum and my Mum’s friend, their dead.”

The police arrived in minutes, swarms of them surrounding the house. A care worker was also there. She had a kind face, but I didn’t need kindness, I needed my Mum. She didn’t care about me, she hardly even noticed me, but I loved her and I hope that love was reciprocated.
“It’s all going to be alright,” the care worker said gently. “I’m Mia. You’re going to be coming with me.”
“But I can help the police, I saw what happened!” I insisted.
“You can, but not tonight,” she replied calmly.

I couldn’t sleep knowing Dad was still out there. Mum was dead. I tossed and turned in my bed, so I made my way to the sink to get a glass of water. I was in a small hotel near the police station and I could hear voices outside.

“All that training to be a police officer and this is what I do, babysitting,” the voice grunted. “I’m tired, why are we even standing here?”
“We can’t let him get out, those are the orders Pete,” the other officer replied.
“Just lock the door, he’s only a kid,” Pete moaned.
“A kid that killed his Mum and her client.”
“What!” Pete exclaimed. I was thinking the same.
“Some kid down the road told him his Mum was a prostitute, says he stormed home. Next thing we know the Mum’s dead and he blames the Dad, who hasn’t been seen in the area for months. He’s being questioned tomorrow.”
“Why would he call the police?” Pete asked, just as confused as I was.
“So it wouldn’t seem like he did it, this is obvious Pete.”

I stood back from the door. They thought I killed my own Mum, I couldn’t do that. She might not have loved me, but I loved her. I stared out of the window and jumped.

I was going to find Dad. And I was going to kill him.