Lesson Two: The making of Catwomen

As my Birthday went, it wasn't the worst one I'd ever had. I'd woken up to the smell of a fried Breakfast cooked in our kitchen, courtesy of Rose. I had new shoes on my feet and a brand-new book ready to be read in my room. Granted, I hadn't seen my dad yet, and it was almost three in the afternoon, but that didn't concern me. When he was around, I struggled to think of what to say to him.

I hated him.

I despised everything he stood for.

He was the last individual I'd ever want to be around.

I preferred being with my friends, sitting in the park like we were now, observing a few kids attempt to play basketball, and laughing at Jack's godawful attempt at rolling his first-ever cigarette.

"It looks like the tobacco is going to fall out, you need to roll it tighter," Thomas scolded and tried to snatch the roll up out of Jack's fingers. But Jack was too quick and swung his arms away so Thomas couldn't reach him.

He beamed to himself as he rolled the papers in between his fingers, then licked along the seam to secure it in place. He was happy with the job he'd done, and no one was going to take that away from him.

"I'm no specialist, but I'm pretty sure you're supposed to put a filter tip or something in the end," Quinn added frowning at the crooked roll-up like it was the last thing he wanted to try.

Jack rolled his eyes. Telling us "I'll twist the paper at the end like my dad does," then glancing at his work, He smiled again. "I think it's a pretty good effort for my first attempt," He held the roll-up out to me, grinning with pride "You should have the first drag, Seraphina. It is your birthday, after all" and the fact he wanted to do that for me meant everything. I couldn't stop smiling, something I didn't really do all that much. I might be a ghost to my father, but my friends noticed me, and that's all that matter.

"Do you want to annihilate me on my birthday?" I asked, my grin turning to a smirk "Thanks, I appreciate the sentiment. Why don't you drop it in some dog shit before you pass it to me and show me you really care."

Jack shrugged, neglecting my sly dig, and glancing at the roll-up, He replied, " I got you a homemade gift. What more do you want? This was rolled with love."

"And sealed with your spit. I'm forever in your debt." I placed my hand over my heart, fluttering my eyelashes to mock Jack, and the others laughed

"You can have it all. I'm not taking a drag." Tom screwed his nose up in disgust. Then he laid back on the grass, putting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. He took a deep breath, savoring the warm summer air. I closed my eyes too as it wafted over me; clean-cut grass, the stench of stale lager from the cans that'd been left scattered about by a group of lads who'd been sitting near us a few moments ago, and dog shit that the owners couldn't be bothered to pick up. Welcome to Riverside Manor. What you see is what you get, and if you looked too closely, it might scar you for life. But it was my town and I loved it. Beauty can be found in the darkest places, and here with my friends, I'd found something special. Priceless even. This was my home. Days spent like this made everything seem less shitty. Being with friends and living my life the way I wanted. Watching and listening to their banter made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle with warmth. Their company created a sense of peace that I hadn't encountered for a long time, not since the days when Rose used to come around. That feeling of tranquil serenity, like a wave of reassurance blanketing you, and all I wanted to do, was slow down time. Absorb every bit of it. Let it seep into my pores to soothe my soul. Nothing, not even Luke's awful roll-ups could bring me down today. "Come on then, I'll take a drag," I told Luke. I wasn't that bothered about trying to smoke, but it was my birthday, and I supposed this would make it unforgettable. Plus, he'd gone to all the effort of sneaking the stuff out of his house and bringing it here. I had to try too. Jack made a humming sound in agreement. "Count me in then. I want to know what all the fuss is about. My dad smokes forty a day." Tom rolled his head to the side, protecting his eyes from the glare of the sun with his hand, as he stared at us from where he lay, and asked, "Do any of you even have a lighter?" We glanced at each other like dumbasses, expecting the other to pipe up with a yes. "I can't be expected to think of everything," Luke snapped, dropping his hands into his lap with exasperation. He stared at the roll-up longingly, like he'd created a masterpiece that he'd never get to enjoy. "I brought the roll-up paper and tobacco. What else do you want?"

"A means to light it might be a start," Jack smirked and then huffed as he stood up, sauntering over to a group of kids smoking by the swings. "If brains were dynamite, you wouldn't have enough to blow your shitty baseball cap off," I said, laughing at Luke. Luke just frowned and sat taller, taking his cap off his head to look at it, and whining, "This isn't shitty. It's official merchandise. Look, there's a tag inside." Tom sat up, shaking his head as he remarked, "Because that was the most insulting thing she said to you." But it flew over Luke's head, just like my joke had, and Luke ignored us, placing his cap back on his head and giving us a wink. "I make no apologies for my greatness." "Or your foolishness, it would seem," I added, gaining a high-five from Tom and a scowl from Luke. Two minutes later, Jack sauntered back over to us, wiggling a lighter in his hand and smiling. He plonked himself down on the grass with a triumphant huff, threw the lighter into Luke's lap, and in a cocky voice, he said, "You're welcome." Luke picked it up, and then held the roll-up in one hand and the lighter in the other, flicking with his finger to make the flame appear and hovering it over the end of the cigarette. "Aren't you supposed to light it while it's in your mouth?" I asked, a rare smile flickering like the flame he was brandishing. "You look like you're trying to set fire to it, not smoke it."

"If you think you can do better, you have a go." Luke gave up his feeble attempt at looking like he knew what he was doing and passed everything to me. I wiped the back of my hand over my mouth to dry my lips, then put the cigarette between them and twisted my head like I'd seen Kenny and my dad do, as I flicked the lighter and cupped my hands to ignite the end of the ciggie. "Fuck." Jack grinned and shook his head.

"How do you manage to make that look cool? I swear, Seraphine, you don't know how fucking cool you are."

"I was born this way." I shrugged, attempting not to splutter after inhaling my first drag, and masking the wince my face made after feeling the sharpness in my throat.

"It's the couldn't-give-a-fuck attitude," Tom added. "That's what makes her cool. That and the fact she never smiles Guys dig that shit." I threw my head back and laughed. If guys liked the pissed-off vibe I carried with me like a dark cloud, they certainly didn't show it. "They're just friends. Trust me, the guys who talk to me at school only do it to ask about you, Seraphine. You're an enigma. That's what Toby Lock calls you, anyway."

We passed the cigarette around our little circle until it was almost fully smoked. Seeing as it was my birthday, Luke said I should have the last puff, so I took the ciggie from him, ready to finish it. It might be my last drag, but I doubted it'd be my last cigarette. Surprisingly, the feeling had grown on me. I kind of enjoyed the way it made my head buzz and my mind twist. Eager to experience the final headrush of the day, I gripped the butt between my fingers and inhaled sharply. The warmth burned my fingers and scorched my lips, but the pain wasn't unpleasant, and the buzz I felt after certainly made up for it. I'd discovered something else to dampen the pain, which was always a good thing. Whatever assisted you to get through the day was a win in my book. Anything to block out the images and feelings I didn't want to acknowledge. Ever. I squashed the butt into the grass, feeling a sense of peace wash over me. I thought this might've been my favorite birthday so far since Mum left, that is. Savoring the numbing effects of the nicotine, I glanced off into the distance, enjoying how quiet it made my brain feel. How tranquil everything felt at this moment. The distant laughter of the children, the cool rush of the breeze, the rustling trees, dogs barking, all of it was music to my ears. This was what it was all about. But then, like a dark cloud rumbling through the skies, ready to crack a whip through my delicate peace, I heard the shouts of a familiar voice. A reminder that even though I felt content, this wasn't my life, it was all a charade. Happiness was short-lived and reality was creeping around every corner, waiting for me. Nothing lasts forever. That deep voice bellowed from the car park behind us, a voice that stripped away my calm like a vicious hand ripping off a warm blanket. His nearness filled me with dread and made my stomach clench with unspoken fear. The fear I didn't want my friends to see. That might lead to questions, and questions would lead to lies I didn't want to tell. "Seraphine! Get over here. We're leaving," my dad hollered, and it felt like every single person in this park stopped what they were doing to stare at us. My cheeks flamed with embarrassment and my heart dropped in disappointment. Why did he have to show up here of all places? Why couldn't I enjoy a day with my friends without him disturbing me? I didn't argue, though. I knew better. If my dad wanted me to leave, I would. Nobody argued with my dad, least of all me. Plus, I didn't want him infiltrating this part of my life. Better than I left now and quickly to avoid him coming over here. I never wanted any of my friends to meet him. "Dude, your dad wants you," Luke said, stating the obvious and I sighed. "Party's over." With a heavy soul and hollow legs, I raised myself from the ground and gave each one of my friends a fist bump. "Later," I told them, and then I left, walking slowly over to my dad's car, where he sat with the engine running. That alone gave me bad vibes, and when thoughts of why he wanted me to leave with him sprung to mind, I blocked them out. What was he up to? My thoughts were always dark these days. They were darker the older I got, and I feared what the future held for a girl like me. A girl with a family that I wanted to keep hidden from the world. A dirty secret. There would be no happy tales and fond moments reminiscing about my childhood. The only pride I felt was that I'd survived this long. And it felt like the sand in my timer was running out. My resolve, my strength, was waning. Dad didn't hide or feel ashamed of what he did for a living, but I did. I couldn't wait for the day when I could get some distance from him. I didn't know what my future looked like, but I knew it wasn't anything like the one my father envisaged. One thing I was thankful for though, was my friends. They were my lifeline. I don't know what I'd do without them. They gave me moments of enjoyment in an otherwise tragic existence. Moments like today. Reluctantly, I opened the car door and got in. My dad drove off before I'd even had a chance to close it or secure my seatbelt, making me squirm in my seat. He was always in a rush, oblivious to others around him. People stopped and turned to watch his Lambo glide past, and he loved that. He lived to be worshipped. It wasn't very often a car like his drove through Riverside Manor. It wasn't the best area, but we'd never left, no matter how much money he'd made over the years. Dad preferred to be a big fish in a little pond. He knew he could manipulate these individuals, and if we moved to somewhere more upscale, he'd drown, lost in a sea of more powerful fish. He'd never let that transpire. He desired control. He liked that they all knew who he was-Rusty Royalty or rather, the porn king as he liked to be known. A peddler of vulgarity that I wanted no portion of. I shuffled in my seat, and he clucked his tongue. "Stop fidgeting. You're not a little kid anymore."

"I know," I bit back, and then I asked, "Where are we heading? My curfew isn't up yet. Why did I have to leave? It's my birthday for fuck's sake."

"Because I said so. And don't fucking swear at me, or you'll feel the back of my hand." Dad didn't give justifications, so when he took a breath, then added, "I have one last birthday present for you." I turned to look at him, my brows hitting my hairline. My dad didn't do anything unless it aided him, so where the fuck was he bringing me?

"What surprise?" I narrowed my gaze at him, but he ignored me, clicking the doors locked as if he anticipated me to escape from a moving car. I swallowed, my throat rough from the cigarette and my shredded nerves. Why did it feel like I'd strapped myself into a rollercoaster? And not one of those fun ones at a theme park that made your stomach roll and your head spin. No. This was a rickety old death trap of a ride with rusty tracks and a harness that was worn out and ready to snap. The kind of ride that should've been convicted years ago, just like my father. A ride that'd be the death of me. My knee began to jiggle up and down, and Dad reached across to put his hand on it. "Stop doing that," he scolded irritably, and I froze at the unpleasant contact. Typical. Even my jumpy knee pissed him off. I had to admit, thinking about how much it bugged him made me want to jiggle my knee even more, but the possibility of him touching me again stopped me. The less contact we had, the better. We drove through the downtrodden streets of Riverside Manor, where the houses looked uninhabitable, and then out into Lakeside, a neighboring town. I glanced out of the car window at the old, filthy-looking houses. Some were boarded up. Others had yellowing; dirty curtains strung up to hide whatever went on inside those crumbling walls. Kids in the street stood gawping at us as we drove past, their faces covered in mud and their ragged clothes hanging off their scrawny frames. But given the opportunity, I'd have swapped places with them in a heartbeat. Theirs was filth you could see, honest. The filth sitting in this car was concealed beneath designer clothes and scowls of superiority. The worst of the worst. I had no idea what kind of surprise my dad would give me here of all places, but it wasn't going to be good. I wasn't stupid, I knew he only ever brought misery my way. As he wound the car through the streets, I felt like a tight coil had been wound around my stomach, like a vice squeezing me until I felt sick with dread. Then my heart twinged as I thought about Rose. I hadn't seen her again, not since that day all those years ago when I'd had the worst introduction to how my dad made his money. I knew she lived on a street like this in Lakeside. She told me all about her neighborhood and how lucky I was to live in one of the nicer parts of Riverside Manor. But stunning houses can hide ugly truths. We were a testament to that. And money didn't make you happy. My dad had loads of it and never cracked a smile, and neither did I most of the time. As the car slowed down, so did the beat of my heart, sending a wave of nausea through me. My palms were sweaty as I clung to the door handle like I was clinging to a life raft. We pulled up outside a rundown terraced house and I looked up and down the street, waiting to see what would happen next. I half expected a white van to stop next to us and yank my door open then bundle me inside. Nothing was off the table at this point, and I wouldn't put anything past my father. He'd see it as character building, not giving a fuck that the character he was building was one that he'd swiped from the road to heaven and flung into the depths of hell. Feeling panicked, I glanced at the back seat in case there were ropes or something ready to restrain me, but it was empty. That didn't put my mind at rest though. He could've hidden anything anywhere in this car. I couldn't let my eyes deceive me. "Stop looking so jumpy," my dad snapped, putting the handbrake on and glowering at me. I wanted to snap back, "What do you expect? You've brought me out here into the middle of God knows where to do what? Shoot me? Make me shoot someone? What the fuck is going on here?" But I settled with, "Why are we here?" Although even that had been hard to say through the golf ball-sized bulge of anxiety that was lodged in my throat. My dad cut the engine and then turned in his seat to face me with a sadistic glint in his eyes. "Happy birthday." He winked, then added, "This is where you take your first step towards being a proper woman." He pointed at a house we'd pulled up in front of and said, "Your present is in there. Take this time. Use it wisely." Then his head swung back towards me. "Learn." The sharpness of his gaze made it feel like blades were penetrating my stomach. This wasn't a treat. It was a trial, at least, that's what it felt like. Fuck. What should I do? Should I argue with him? Get out of the car and run away? What if they shot at me in the street? My mind was whirling, and I couldn't even think straight, let alone form a legible sentence. My ability to formulate any type of plan was non-existent. All I could appear to do was nod and try to swallow. Breathe, Seraphine. Just breathe. I had no idea what was about to happen, but he motioned to the car door impatiently. When I looked at him, his face morphed into something sinful. Demons burned in his eyes, taunting me to argue and the devil smirked back at me, begging me to put a foot wrong. If I didn't do as he said, then whatever was waiting for me in that house would be nothing compared to what I'd encounter in this car and at home later.

So, I opened the door, my tobacco-dried throat becoming even more scratchy as my nerves ramped up a gear. "Number fifty-three. Go on. Timmy is expecting you," he urged, shooing me with his hand. The fact he'd used a man's name did nothing to calm the storm of panic raging through my body. I closed the car door and forced my legs to move me toward the house. I was on automatic pilot. My body was in combat with my mind, and I felt like I wasn't living in my own body. I had no power. So, I halted and took a moment, standing on the pavement outside and staring up at the house that loomed in front of me. All the curtains were drawn, and the front garden was littered with bikes, scooters, and other kids' toys. The bikes were all pink and purple with tassels on the handles, but the frames were rusty and had seen better days. The scene in front of me, one of innocent family chaos, was in stark contrast to the nightmare scenarios running through my head of what was going to happen next. How I was going to suffer. What was I doing here? We didn't know anyone with little girls in the family, so this was even more of a mind-fuck. From behind, I heard the whirring sound of my dad's car window winding down, and then his gruff voice saying, "What the fuck are you waiting for? Stop wasting time and get the fuck in there." He wasn't speeding away, so perhaps I wasn't about to get gunned down on the road. Either that, or he was even more of a sicko than I thought, and he wanted to stay and watch. "Is there anything I should know before I go in?" I asked, stalling for time. "Yeah. Relax. Take that stick from your ass and grow a fucking pair." He clicked the button to raise his window again, shaking his head at me in disappointment, and that right there spurred me on. Don't ask me why, but it did. He didn't think I had it in me to face whatever was ahead, and part of me wanted to prove him wrong. The other part wanted to bolt through the house and exit out the back. But the last thing I was going to do was let my dad think I'd bottled it. "I can think of somewhere I'd like to shove that stick," I whispered under my breath, and on shaking legs, I pushed myself forward. The little wooden gate at the front of the property was held up by the overgrown privet hedge on either side of it. With shaking hands, I had to lift it up to stop it from scraping along the cracked slabs of the path. Even the gate was trying to stop me from entering, and the uneven paving stones weren't much better. Navigating my way to the door was a challenge in itself. With each step I took towards the weathered front door, with its chipped, peeling blue paint and rusty door knocker, my heart hammered in my chest. What was all this regarding? I banged on the door and stepped back. Movement from inside made me second-guess everything, and I glanced over my shoulder to see my dad sitting back in his seat in the car, smoking a cigar like he didn't have a care in the world. I took deep breaths to try and soothe my nerves, shoving my hands in my pockets to stop them from shaking. Suddenly, the door swung open, and an older man stared back at me. Not what I was expecting to see at all. he was probably around thirty-five, so not that old really. His dark hair was to the side of his head letting his short lengthed waves cover part of his forehead, he had a smiling, kind face. And his clothes were sparkly; a long black skirt with moons and stars twinkling back at me, reaching right down to his bare feet. he wore a plain black top, his shoulders bare, and I noticed he had a few tattoos; moons, stars, and was that a demon of some sort? I shifted my focus from his body art to peer around him, expecting to see kids my own age in the house, maybe the girls whose bikes were scattered across the yard, but it was peaceful inside. I guessed there was no one home, only him. I could hear the faint tinkle of music that sounded like it was coming from one of those old record players, it was crackly and old-fashioned. Not the kind of music I listened to, and definitely not party music. "You must be Seraphine," he said, greeting me warmly even though I could feel my limbs freezing like icy invisible hands were trying the claim, my soul. "I'm Timmy. Come in. Don't be shy." he opened the door a little wider and stepped back to give me space. It was like I'd stepped foot in a bad fairy tale, and here was the wicked wizard playing the part of the kind man, trying to lure me to the dark side. I nodded dumbly, mentally planning my escape or how I was going to overpower him as I walked in. As birthday gifts went, this one was shitty and really fucking bizarre. I looked over my shoulder as he closed the door and put the chain across to lock us in. Red flags were fluttering all over the damn place. Sirens blaring warnings, screaming at me to get out, and as I turned my body, preparing to fight, he smiled and gestured with his arm down the hallway. "Keep going. The living room is straight ahead," he said, like me being here was the most natural thing in the world, and for some reason, I did as I was told. There was a sweet, smoky smell in the living room, and I noticed incense sticks burning in the far corner. Draped over the sofa was a deep-blue satin throw, and the whole moon and stars theme he seemed to love was woven into the fabric. It looked like this man was spiritual, perhaps he really was a wizard. Was I here for a reading or a ritual? Was this some kind of black magic? "Take a seat. Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you a drink?" Timmy smiled calmly from the doorway, his whole presence radiating a peaceful aura that made me drop into the sofa even though I didn't know what was going on. "I have lager, or whisky if that's your thing." I coughed, covering my mouth to hide my surprise at him offering me alcohol so freely. Was that his game? Get me drunk so he could perform his twisted shit on me? Was he a serial killer? I'd seen enough Netflix shows to know how it goes. They drug your drink then drill holes in your skull and do all sorts of weird, fucked-up shit. I wasn't a victim, and never would be, and I scanned the room, searching for a weapon and a way out. "I thought it might relax you," he elaborated, but I disregarded him, too immersed in what I could do to stay alive. "You don't have to drink alcohol though." he tilted his head and smiled. "I make a mean cup of tea."

"I'm fine," I snapped, fisting my hands and then rubbing them on my thighs to get rid of the sweat. I needed to keep a clear head, and a good grip if I was going to fight back.

"Happy birthday, by the way," Timmy added, taking a slow step into the room like a hunter approaching his prey. "Which one is it? Sweet sixteen or eighteen? Don't tell me you're twenty-one. I'd never believe it. You've got such a baby face." I stared at him, my eyes wide, and replied, "I'm thirteen." I cleared my throat as my words came out all squeaky and unsure. I needed him to know I was the woman my father had challenged me to be. I wasn't going to go down without a fight. Instantly, Timmy's face fell, and his smile evaporated as her chest started to rise and fall rapidly. he stared back at me like I'd been dropped into his living room by Martians. The hunter didn't look so vicious anymore. "Say that again," he asked, taking a step back, and I felt like the tables were turning in my favor. "I'm thirteen today," I announced with more confidence than before. "Oh my God." Timmy covered his mouth, and I thought for a moment he was going to throw up, but he shook her head, closed his eyes tightly for a few seconds, then opened them, and there, in her eyes, I could see the tears she was trying to hold back. "You're the same age as my youngest daughter." he spoke in a whisper and then he took a deep breath, threw his head back, and stated, "This isn't happening. This… it's not happening."

"What's not happening?" I sat forward, willing her to shed light on what the fuck was going on. "Do you know why your dad brought you here?" he crept over to the lone armchair across the room and sat down, wrapping his arms around himself, but it wasn't cold. It was hot and muggy in here, stifling even. "I have no idea," I answered, then gritted my teeth. I wasn't the prey anymore. I'd got this. "He said it was my first step towards being a woman or something like that." I narrowed my eyes at him. "Am I going to have to fight?" he shook her head vehemently. "Oh my God, no. You're safe here," he sputtered, but nothing made sense. "So, what then?" I asked with a hint of sarcasm. "Are you going to read some fucking tarot cards and tell me my future?" he huffed out a laugh. "I wish, kid. I wish." he bit his lip and sat in silence, staring at the dusty skirting board and frowning at it like it held all the answers. "So, what are you going to do?" I pushed. "Why am I here?" His silence was deafening. The clock on the mantlepiece ticked like a timebomb ready to obliterate my world. Our breaths were labored and deep as we both waited for impending doom to strike. But how it would strike was what made my heart race and my stomach twist. A few seconds more, and then his eyes glazed over, and his face twisted and contorted with anger. "You're here because your father is a sick, evil man." That wasn't news to me, he'd told me fuck all. So, I stayed quiet, my pulse throbbing in my ears making it difficult to hear him whisper the truth. "You're here because I needed the money and no one in this fucking town can ever say no to the mighty Toby Royalty." Again, no answers, so I waited. he sighed, and then he hit me with the bombshell I knew was always coming my way. "You're here because your father has paid me to have sex with you." What. The actual. Fuck. he gave a sad, low chuckle and dipped his head in shame. "He wants me to teach you how to be a woman, but he's the one that needs a fucking lesson." I could barely breathe, and I turned my body away from him, unable to look at him. I gasped, pain grabbing me tightly by the throat as nausea whirled in my stomach, bile raced up my throat, and threatened to spill out all over this man's carpet. Scorching me in a way that made me want to double over. he squeezed her eyes shut again, and more to herself than me, he whispered, "Why would he do that? What the fuck is wrong with him? You're still a fucking child, for God's sake."

"I won't do it." I shook my head, tears welling up as I felt my body launch into fight or flight mode. Fight and flight. I'd cheerfully do both. There was no option. "You can't make me," I stated, sitting taller, tensing my muscles, and preparing myself. he opened his eyes and looked over at me, a disbelieving horror painted on her face. "I would never hurt you. I'm not a fucking pedophile. I'd rather cut my own arms off than harm a hair on your head." I took a moment to assess my situation, and despite what he said he'd agreed to do, I believed him when he said he wouldn't hurt me. I wouldn't fully drop my guard, but he didn't come across as an immediate threat. Despite my father bringing me here, this man seemed to have a kindness about him, a calming aura, but I wasn't sure what to do next. I knew my dad was outside, waiting. Would he expect something from me? Details? Evidence? Was he about to charge in and stand over me while I did what he wanted? My stomach rolled just thinking about it. I was pretty sure I was going to get my lesson in how to become a man, just not in the way he had hoped for. I had to think of a way out, and quick. There was another door just behind Timmy's chair. If I could get to it fast enough, it might get me out of here. "You don't have to look like a rabbit caught in the headlights, Seraphina. You're safe here with me. I promise." I nodded but sucked my lip between my teeth and bit down so hard I could taste the blood I'd drawn. Safe was the last thing I felt when it came to my dad, and I had to do something, anything to get me out of this. "I know you want to leave," he added. "But we have to think about this. Your dad is out there. If you walk out now, he'll know something's up. We need to come up with a plan."

"Like what?" I asked, wringing my hands in my lap. Timmy gave me a warm smile and sat forward. "He thinks he's smart, but we're going to be smarter." "How?" I felt agitated and couldn't stop myself from rocking back and forth. I didn't care what my dad thought. I wanted out of here. "You know what'd be smart? If you let me leave from the back door and we left him out the front all night. That sounds like a solid plan to me."

"And face your father's wrath when he finds out we both went against him?" he had a point. "So, what else do we do?" "You do nothing," he told me. "Stay here for a while. I'll make you a sandwich and you can watch TV. That's it."

"That's it?" I spat back. "Let him think I did… stuff, and just act like that's normal?"

"What else can we do?" he shrugged sadly. "I never said it was a good plan, it's just a plan. Survival."

"Survival." I huffed. "Because he's the king and he always gets his way." "Not always. And he hasn't got his way today, he just thinks he has." Timmy kept his eyes locked on me and then, he added. "I think Lisa or Kate might have left their Nintendo DS here, you could play on that if you want to. Or watch a bit of T.V. But you don't have to worry. Not about me or your dad. It'll all be fine. Let's put this down to a misunderstanding on our part, and a tremendous fuck up on your dad's part. I think today will be a day we both want to forget." Only, it wasn't going to be that easy for me. This was my birthday. I'd remember this for the rest of my life. The day my own father tried to sell me and ripped my soul out in return. I was getting good at lying to him, but what if he found out?

"What about my dad?" I asked, praying he'd give me some words of wisdom. Or failing that, a meteor might fall from the sky and wipe him out. I could hope, right? But as time went on, I knew the only way my father would stop, was if I stopped him.

"You don't tell your dad anything. I'm not going to breathe a word about this to anyone, and even though it's playing into his sick and twisted hands, you've got to do whatever you can to survive. It's called self-preservation, Seraphina, and my bet is, you haven't been doing a very adequate job of that lately." I'd tried. My version of self-preservation was to make myself imperceptible when I was at home but avoid being in the house as much as I possibly could. Ignorance was bliss, and I was a ghost of a girl, bypassing the harsh realities of her life. I remained quiet, out of his way, and ignored the demons that danced around him. But those parts of him, the parts that were trying to attach themselves to me like a filthy parasite, they were becoming harder and harder to fight off. The day of reckoning was fast approaching. "Seraphina…" Timmy's voice broke through my reverie, and I blinked up at him as he stood over me. "I don't know you, but I only have to look at you to see you've got a good heart, a pure heart. Too pure to survive a man like him for much longer. You've got to harden up. Don't trust so easily. Don't give him anything that he doesn't deserve. I can tell you're a girl who senses things deeply, and loves unapologetically, but I'm guessing that's brought you nothing but pain so far. Am I right?" I nodded, unable to form any words. The will to fight, that'd been keeping me going this far, was dwindling fast. "You need to stop." he sat down carefully next to me, his body hovering on the sofa's edge. "Stop giving him power over you. Take back control. Own who you are and become somebody you're proud of, someone he can't touch or hurt again." That's what I was trying to do, but it didn't seem to be working. I lowered my head in thought, I guessed Timmy realized that too. But then he hit me with the killer words. "I know what happened to your mum, and I'm sorry." I didn't like to think about Mom, but when I did, at this point, it felt like strips of my heart were being torn away. I couldn't breathe. There wasn't enough headspace to take that on as well. "You need to do this for her, Seraphina. Be the soldier she couldn't be. Fight and stand up to him. If you don't do it now, you might never do it. Everyone knows who Toby royalty is, and what he stands for, but do they know Seraphina Royalty? Because they should. She's going to be a better person than her father ever was. Seraphina Royalty is going to be fucking amazing, excuse my language, and you, Seraphina, you're going to do great things. You're going to be someone. Someone better than him. Someone that people in Riverside, look up to. He's the past, and we can't change what he's done, but you're the future, and that means everything." "But how is lying about what's happened here today fighting?" I asked, unsure about anything and everything. "If I was a real woman, I'd stand up to him. Go out there and fight back." "Fighting doesn't always transpire with fists or as a display of strength." he tapped the side of her head. "Sometimes the biggest battles are up here. Be wise. Let him think he's prevailing but know that you hold all the cards. Wisdom is power, and he knows nothing." I understood what he was saying to me. Some things you could bury in the sand, but not forever. Life would eventually come back to bite you in the ass, and you had to pick your battles. Today was a battle I didn't need. It didn't matter if he'd thought he'd won because I knew the truth. And that's all that mattered. "Sometimes in life, we have to learn who's gold and who's just gold-plated. And your dad out there, he's fool's gold. A shiny piece of shit that you're not going to let drag you down, are you?"

"Fuck no," I answered, feeling a trickle of power flow through me, and he smiled at my response. "That's the spirit." We sat in silence for a while. I was feeling numb about what my father had tried to orchestrate today and trying to digest what Timmy had said, and him, taking slow, deep breaths to calm himself. Today had been one of the worst days, and yet the things Timmy had told me made me want to stand up for myself. Stop the spiral of doom that I was destined to take. Select a better path. Perhaps, when I looked at it a different way, this wasn't the worst birthday present. It had certainly made me wake up to the fact that I needed to do more with my life. I needed to take better control. "What do you want on your sandwich?" Timmy asked, breaking the silence with a homely smile, and turning what was a weirdly fucked-up situation into something that resembled normality.

"Whatever you want to give me," I replied, and when he patted my knee and rose to stand, I felt a little lighter. Today, I was thirteen years old. My dad had tried to destroy that, overpower me, but not anymore. I wasn't a kid now, and that lesson in being a woman he seemed persistent to give me would come, only not the way he wanted it to. It would transpire on my terms. I stayed for about an hour, playing Super Mario on his daughter's DS while some old eighties movie played in the background, but feeling like I wasn't really there. None of this felt real. Timmy didn't say a lot after his initial pep talk, he just left me to it, but after a while, I felt uncomfortable and wanted to leave. I'd spent enough time in the house to make it believable. The sooner I got in the car and fed my dad some bullshit, the sooner I could get home and go to my room. Plan my next move and what I could do to escape my life. I placed the DS on the coffee table and stood up to go, giving Timmy a weak smile as I said goodbye. "Hey." he grabbed my shoulder to stop me as I made my way into the hallway that led to the front door. I flinched at the contact, but he didn't seem to notice.

"No more fake smiles, or half smiles. You give a big smile, okay? The bigger the smile, the more you'll feel it." I grinned to please him, not feeling the happiness he promised, and he stroked my cheek. "That's it. Remember, smiles are like chicken soup for the soul." I had no idea what he meant, but I nodded anyway. "See? I bet you feel better already," he stated. "Smiles lead to laughter, and believe it or not, laughter can heal a lot of hurts. It makes you forget for a while."

"I think it'll take a lot more than a smile to forget my fucked-up family," I stated, hinting that his hallmark brand of counseling was a lost cause for someone like me. he squeezed my shoulder in response, and added, "Maybe not, but it's worth a shot. My gran used to say, if you find yourself lost in a dark world, a simple smile can spark brightness back into your soul. And isn't life better when you're laughing?" I gave another nod, understanding what he was getting at, but eager to get out the door. Timmy steered me forward by the shoulders and whispered in my ear, "Laughter is like the windscreen wipers on your car. It might not stop the rain from falling, but it does a damn good job of keeping you going forward… now, go. Tell him whatever you want to tell him, and then smile because you know the truth. He doesn't control you and he never will. You're your own woman now, Seraphina." he was right, and I walked out of that house feeling ten times taller than when I'd stepped in. As I stepped closer to my dad's car, I could see that he saw it too. I hated that he thought he'd won, but then I reminded myself of Timmy's words. I had to pick my battles. He only thought he'd won. He hadn't though, and he never would. He smirked as I climbed in, and then chuckling, he said, "And now you know what it's all about." He turned to face me and added, "That was only your first lesson though, From here on in, you will be trained to take over my empire, whether that's in front of the camera or behind it. Either way, I want you to keep the Royalty's legacy going." I didn't answer. I had no intention of keeping his sick legacy going or fueling any kind of empire that he'd built on the foundation of other people's misery and tears. I was going to have my own empire. One that helped the kind of people my dad took advantage of. I would be a better person. So, I sat up straight, stared forward, and did what Timmy had told me. I smiled like the cat that'd got the fucking cream, and I made a vow to myself. A vow that I would change the course of my life from this day onwards. That smile worked because my dad patted my knee and replied, "That's my girl," before starting the engine with a smug, self-satisfied grin on his face. Timmy was right. Smile. It fools them. And my dad was the largest fool of all. Later that night, we had a visit from the provincial police. Some older lads at the park had jumped my friends on their way home and they wanted to question me about it. The CCTV in the park was broken and they needed help identifying who it might be. I had no idea but knowing I hadn't been there to fight for my friends, to defend them, made me want to trawl the streets hunting down the chickenhearted fuckers that'd hurt them. And that night, I swore I would always put my friends first. They were the ones who stood by me. They were the ones that made my life more bearable. They meant more to me than my family. Loyalty over blood. Brothers in arms. I wasn't going to take any more bullshit. For years, I'd harbored so much anger towards my father, but no more. I had to use that anger, and channel it into something worthwhile. Keeping it inside was only doing more damage, and ultimately hurting me. But things had to change. I was going to change. No weak Seraphina. That was a mask I was ripping off, and I couldn't wait to replace it with something a hell of a lot more sinister. The world wasn't ready for what I had in mind.

I took a swig from the hip flask full of whisky being passed around as we sat on the grass outside the church. The liquid scorched my throat as I swallowed it, but I didn't wince or let on to the others that the acquired taste Dax had talked about was still waiting to register as something enjoyable in my brain. I had to admit, though, the burn was a welcome distraction from the whirling thoughts clouding my mind, warning me what the events of this day had in store. Today was my father's funeral. Not a particularly sad occasion and I was only here because the others had told me I should come. They thought it'd give me closure. Honestly, I didn't need closure; I'd already got the outcome I wanted. He was gone. Scorching in hell for all I cared, but I humored them anyway and decided to view this as a final purge. A chance to expel the last hold my father had on me in this life. By tonight, there would be nothing left of Toby Royalty's legacy. Only me. And I wasn't his legacy; I was his nemesis. My life had changed immeasurably since that day four years ago, when I'd sat in Riverside Park smoking my first ciggie with my friends, existing in a daze to try and block out the reality of what being Toby Royalty's daughter actually meant. The name Royalty was like a dark, dirty cloud, a black stain on the town of Riverside Manor, but I was determined to alter that. I wanted to create my own legacy, something I could be proud of. His legacy? I wanted no part of it. I loathed it, and I despised him too. It had taken me a while to get where I was today. My transformation wasn't easy, and it'd hurt when my old friends drifted away. After being jumped in the park that night on my thirteenth birthday, Tom's parents moved from Riverside Manor to Prince Isle, and Tom changed schools. They wanted better for him, and apparently, that meant finding new friends and staying away from us, or rather, me. It didn't take long for Jack and Luke's parents to go the same way. I guess they finally realized what the consequences of their kids being associated with a Royalty were. My father made money by using people and selling sex, and misery followed wherever he went. A pain I'd put to bed when I'd slipped a little too much Fentanyl into his coffee and the fucker had finally croaked it. A thirteen-year-old Seraphina wouldn't have had the nerve to do something so fucking brave. But after meeting Timmy, and having my eyes opened to what would happen to me if I didn't take control, namely being another one of my father's exploits, I grew a pair. I became the woman I needed to be to put right some of the wrongs that'd been done over the years. But his death was only the beginning. I knew there were other ghosts I had to deal with. Nightmares that still lingered from a past I refused to take with me into the future. Never look back; that's what I continued to tell myself on days when I felt the weight of guilt from what my father had done, and why I didn't speak up or try to stop it. Never look back and live without regret. I lost three friends because of my father. I lost a hell of a lot more if I really thought about it. But in return, after embracing the anger and twisting it into something I could truly master, I gained four brothers. Brothers who would stand shoulder-to-shoulder with me, no matter what. They already had, we did it for each other, and their loyalty was something I'd never had to question, despite my last name being Royalty and the fact I was the only girl in our group. Four years ago, I chose to change. I was tired of trying to fit into a world that didn't fit me. The proverbial square peg in a round hole. Four years ago, my school decided it could no longer cope with a degenerate like me, who disrupted learning, questioned authority, and stood up for herself. Four years ago, I was sent to a pupil referral bureau as a way for the system to look like they were doing something to help me rehabilitate back into a society that was beyond fucked. And that's where I found my people. My brothers. Boys who were the same as me. Their backgrounds weren't identical to mine. They'd lived in financially poorer families; some with one parent, others with none, as they bounced from one foster home to another. But none of them could boast that their father was the king of porn. Why would they want to? It wasn't exactly a badge of glory you'd want to wear with pride. However, despite the slight differences in our histories, our moral compass, code of ethics, and what we stood for were so aligned, so in sync, we were like five parts of one perfect machine. Trundling down an unknown road together, taking a common path to our own righteousness. A path only we could comprehend. I glanced around our circle of five as we sat on the grass outside the church. We looked like a budget version of the cast of Reservoir Dogs; all dressed in our black suits, white shirts, and black ties. Well, that was their look. I'd paired my leggings white T-shirt that announced in black letters across the front, 'Do I look like I give a fuck?' I liked it. I thought it fit the vibe of the day to a tee. Plus, it acted as a repellent. Anyone who wanted to come over and give me their fake condolences would take one look at my statement T-shirt and stay the fuck away. Job done. "So, question time," I announced, smirking as I looked at each of my friends in turn. "If you had to be a character from Reservoir Dogs, who would you be? I mean, we do look like a pretty decent Riverside Manor version of those motherfuckers right now besides the fact we have one extra gender, don't you think?" I looked down at my outfit and let the pride I felt in my choice of shirt buzz through me. Nox rolled his eyes, but from the sneaky smile he tried to suppress, I could tell he liked this game and was thinking about his answer, making sure he got it right. Nox didn't like getting things wrong. Ever. "I reckon I'd be Mr. White," I stated. "Harvey Keitel, the main motherfucker. I'd be the one they all showed up for because let's face it, if he wasn't in the movie, Tarantino would've bombed out."

"He also gets shot at the end," Dax added drily like I didn't know what I was fucking talking about. "Mate, they all get shot in the end, but Mr. White… he's a moral guy, you know? He protects the ones that get wounded. He makes sacrifices." I shrugged and turned to face Nox, thumbing at him as I said, "We all know Nox here would be Mr. Blonde, Vic Vega. He was an impulsive psycho too, who acted first and thought later. That sums you up to a tee, Nox." I placed my hands behind me on the grass and waited for his snarky response. Nox King was a psycho, but he was our psycho, and like Madsen in the film, he'd stop at nothing to get what he wanted. I liked his style. He was someone I always looked up to. I'd never tell him that, though. His head was big enough. "Can't say that I disagree with you." Nox nodded to himself thoughtfully. "That warehouse scene after the robbery is one of my favorite movie scenes ever. And I do have a clown to the left…" He stared at Zack and then thumbed at me before adding, "And a Joker to my right."

"Nice." Dax huffed out a smile at Nox's attempt at humor in paraphrasing the song lyrics from that scene. He wasn't far wrong, though. Zack was a clown and liked messing around as much as I did, but there was only room for one joker. I was just about to tell Nox to leave the humor to the professionals when Jacob piped up. "Did you know they filmed that scene in a disused mortuary?" Jacob had pockets of knowledge that seemed to stem from nowhere. Kind of fitting that as our reaper, with an obsession for all things death and destruction, he'd know a fact like that. "And Tim Roth's apartment scenes were filmed in the rooms upstairs. I love that idea, of work and play all in one place. We should do that one day."

"What? Buy a mortuary and then kidnap a cop, tie him to a chair and cut his ear off?" I laughed. Jacob scowled. "I meant to find a base. A place we can call our own."

"Where everybody knows your name," I sang, making light of something, which below the surface, was actually pretty depressing. You see, Jacob had a point. None of us felt like we had a place we could call home. Not one we felt truly comfortable in, anyway. We were like nomads searching for something, but we didn't know what. We had each other, now we needed a base. A bat cave, if you will. So, in all honesty, Jacob was right about the money. "Where no one knows our name more like," Jacob replied, giving me a knowing look. "Somewhere we can be ourselves." Which loosely translated to somewhere we could go crazy, and fuck shit up without getting caught. You see, lately, we'd been doing some pretty fucked-up stuff to people we thought deserved it. People from our history. We were like Batman, going all vigilante, only without the billionaire budget and self-righteousness. We called ourselves the Riverside Soldiers or Soldiers of Anarchy because that's what we were; street soldiers creating anarchy for those that deserved our wrath. Plus, we liked feeling part of a gang. Finally belonging. Nox looked pensive as he took the hip flask and swigged a mouthful. I could see the cogs turning in his brain. When he said, "I think you might be onto something," I knew Jacob's suggestion would eventually become more than an idea. When Nox got something in his head, he went for it. He was a go-getter. Obsessively so. Nothing could stop him when he was focused on a goal.

"Anyway, back to my question." I swung around to face Tyler. "So, Adam is Mr. Blonde, the psycho. I'm the main man, Mr. White, with all the star quality. Who would you be?" I loved winding up Nox, but Tyler was a good target too. He was strait-laced if you put the thieving and hacking to one side. "I reckon he'd be Mr. Orange, Tim Roth," Dax said, narrowing his eyes at Tyler like he was picturing him in the role. "Fuck off. He's the undercover cop. I'm no rat." Tyler's face screwed up as he showed us how offended he was by the comparison. "No, you're not a rat, but if anyone can go undercover, it's you, with all the technical shit you love messing with. And didn't he get away with the diamonds in the end? See? He's a thief like you are." Dax laughed and Tyler frowned, snatching the hip flask from Nox and throwing his head back as he took a huge gulp of whisky. "You've got it wrong," Jacob piped up. "It was Mr. Pink who was the last man standing. He took the diamonds." "You'd be Mr. Pink," I told Jacob. "No, I wouldn't." "Yes, you would. He's logical, a little neurotic like you, and he doesn't let his feelings get in the way of his work. Isn't that what any reaper would aspire to?" I could tell Jacob didn't know which statement to unpick first, judging from the look of extreme concentration on his face. Would it be the neurotic dig, the cold, and calculated, or something else entirely? "He refuses to tip the waitress at the beginning. I'm not a tight cunt like him." Yep, there it was. Jacob's. unique quality is to see and interpret what no one else could. We knew way too much about the film, and I threw my head back and laughed at how serious this conversation had become. But my smile soon faded when the boys turned their heads in the direction of the low rumbling sound of the engine pulling into the church driveway. The black hearse crept slowly down the path, my eyes following as it pulled up in front of the church doors. Death had arrived, and I was ready to face it. But I had no fear, only relief. "Looks like it's showtime," I said, pulling myself up to standing and taking the hip flask from Nox to put into my pocket. He didn't argue. He knew as well as I did, I'd need it to get through the service with all the fake grief and phony tears. The other guys stood up too, brushing the grass and dirt from the ground off their trousers. Then we started to walk towards the entrance to the church, with long slow strides, standing side by side. I couldn't help but hum the Reservoir Dogs' walking scene music, Little Green Bag, as I put my dark sunglasses on and stood tall and proud. The last King standing, that was me, and it felt fucking awesome. I was having the last laugh. "You know…" Jacob leaned his head to the side as I hummed, and in response to the cool soundtrack we were walking to, he said, "They actually stole the idea of the color character names from the nineteen seventy-four movies, The Taking of Pelham One Two Three." I shook my head, smiling at the fact that Jacob had the power to pull me out of the impending funk my father's phony cortege was pulling me into. "Jacob, your knowledge of useless facts never ceases to amaze me. You're going to rock some lucky girl's world one day with your huge… encyclopedic brain." "We can't all exude big strong energy like you, Seraphina." He nudged me playfully with his elbow as his footsteps kept in time with mine. "Better to have a big brain," he whispered to himself. "Said no guy ever," I volleyed back and earned a chuckle from Daxl. "I'll let you have the last word, seeing as it's such a shitty day for you," Jacob replied, thinking he was being graceful with his response. "I always have the last word." I winked and stuffed my hands into my pockets. I'd certainly had the last word where my father was concerned. No one fucks with this Royalty. Not ever. We stopped just as the funeral directors took the coffin from the back of the hearse. Kenny was right in there, acting as a chief pallbearer, but I wanted no part of it. I wasn't about to carry that man on my shoulders. I'd carried enough of his crap over the years, and the sooner they buried him, forgot about him, and this day was done, the better.

"Why did you opt for a burial? Why didn't you have him cremated?" Daxl asked as we all stood back, letting them walk ahead with the coffin into the church.

"He'd already stipulated what he wanted in his will," I explained. Not that I was bothered about following any protocol, but it was set up, and I couldn't be bothered to argue the toss when push came to shove.

"But trust me," I added with a sly grin.

"There will be a cremation. That comes later tonight." I saw Nox frown and then give me a look that said, 'Whatever you need, brother, I'm there.' Jacob must've felt the same because he patted me on the shoulder.

"That's something I have to do alone though," I told them, and they all nodded with support. They got it. They knew some things I had to do for myself, and tonight was one of those things. I'd let them help me with the other 'fuck you I had planned for today, but tonight was just for me. Thinking of that first 'fuck you', I couldn't help but smirk to myself at what I'd hidden around the back of the church, ready for when the gravediggers had done their shit. That's when I felt the warmth of a stare and I looked up to find two pairs of familiar, kind eyes blinking right back at me. I hadn't expected a big turnout for today, and there were only a handful of my father's lackeys dotted around, but the last two people I'd ever expected to see here were Rose and Timmy, smiling at me like it was some long-overdue reunion. To be honest, I never expected to see either of them again, let alone at my father's funeral. Why had they bothered coming here? Rose moved first, grabbing me in a bear hug, and then sighed. "It's so good to see you, Seraphina. You look so grown up." I wanted to give her a sarcastic response about how I'd only been five years old the last time I'd seen her, but the little girl that lingered inside me still had too much respect for her, and I didn't want to be rude, so I settled on,

"That's because I am, Rose." And I stood there and let her squeeze me like her life depended on it as my arms hung at my sides and I stood rooted to the spot. After what felt like forever, Rose pulled back, and then Timmy stepped up, running his hand down my hoodie, and with a glint in his eye he said, "Nice T-shirt." I broadened my shoulders and smoothed my hands down the front of the lettering, telling them,

"Hey, if I'm going to go down, I'm going down in style." "That's what I like to hear," Timmy replied. "Looks like you took my advice. Sometimes you've just got to give the world the middle finger."

"Oh, I gave it more than a middle finger," I said, leaning down to whisper in her ear. he frowned but didn't push me on it. Not that I'd admit to anything. My father overdosed on Fentanyl because he was a narcissist who thought he knew better than the doctors about what the correct dosage was. That was my story, and I was sticking to it. If I were going to do time, it wouldn't be for that low-life piece of shit. I had thought of other ways to make him suffer, and God knows he deserved a shitty ending, but I had to weigh up the pros and cons. If he'd disappeared, his face would've ended up all over the media. The last thing that fucker needed was more notoriety. Torture him and leave him for the authorities to find and he'd become a martyr. Remembered for the way he died and not the slow death he instigated in others. All his sins would've been swept under the carpet in favor of mourning his loss and berating the cruel way he'd been taken from the world. Death had a way of distorting the truth, and I didn't want that to be the case here. "You found your freedom. I'm so pleased for you," Timmy said. "I always thought you were too beautiful to walk with your head down like you used to. You need to let the world see that gorgeous, smiling face. It's your time now." he grinned at me, and I gave her a wink. "As lovely as it is to see you both, I have to ask, why are you here? I thought this'd be the last place you'd want to be." They gave each other a knowing look, then turned to me. "We came to pay our respects… to you," Rose said, reaching out to squeeze my bicep in some strange show of solidarity. "Not that we needed to worry." She gestured to my brothers, that stood to the side of me. "I can see you're doing just fine. I'm glad he didn't manage to drag you down to the gutter with him." She turned to Timmy and added, "See, Bro, today is a good day for a funeral." "Bro?" I frowned, looking from one to the other. "You two are siblings" "Rose is my little sister," Timmy informed me, threading her arm through Rose's. "And if you ever need anything, anything at all, just call. We're always here for you, Seraphina." They nodded in agreement, and then with wistful expressions, they said their goodbyes. I suppose my father had been good for something. He showed me there were still decent people left in the world, and Rose and Timmy were two of the best. They hadn't let life, or their shitty circumstances and what they had to do for a living get them down. One day, I'd pay them back for what my father took from them. And I was hoping that day would come sooner rather than later. "It's showtime," Nox announced. The dry sarcasm dripping from his tone broke through my daydream, and I nodded, heading into the church with my hands in my pockets, ready to get it over with. Showtime indeed. I was about to put on the performance of a lifetime. A few hours later, once the hangers-on had headed to the wake I had no intention of attending, and the gravediggers had clocked off for the night, I got ready to play my next card. "This is fucking genius, mate." Dax laughed as he picked up one side of the sign, and I grabbed the other. "I fucking love when you do crazy shit like this." Jacob had his mallet in his hand ready. Tyler held his camera, eager to record it all for prosperity. And Nox? He was keeping a lookout. The CCTV cameras had been spray-painted over, but you could never be too careful. And if a security guard or anyone else confronted us, Nox was only too eager to defend and attack. He knew I wanted to do this, and he wouldn't let anything stand in my way. He had my back, as always. We carried the sign over to the mound of dirt where my father now resided. With Nox's help, I lifted it up and speared it into the ground. The hate that I'd carried for so many years seemed pointless now when I looked back. And standing here, in the middle of the graveyard with my brothers, looking at what we'd done, I couldn't help but hold my stomach as I laughed. Dax held the middle of the signpost in place as Nox and Tyler helped Jacob by giving him a knee-up so he could pound his mallet on the wood at the top and secure it properly into the ground. Then Tyler stood back, videoing the end result. And me? I just could not stop laughing. God, I wished my father could see me now. I really fucking hoped he was peering up at this from the hell he was enslaved in. Even in death, I could make him look like a fucking jerk. I loved it.

"Soul for rent!" Tyler called out, reading the sign we'd put into the burial plot.

"But I thought that fucker had no soul. Why did you choose this sign?"

"That's the whole fucking point," I blurted out, my sides hurting from laughing so hard. "This…" I gestured to the sign with my arms outstretched as Tyler filmed me. "It's his plea to the world. Take my soul, 'cos I sure as fuck don't deserve it. In fact, I'm pretty sure he sold it to the devil years ago. I hope they leave this post in the ground forever. I love making him look like a prick even though he's dead." "He doesn't need your help to look like a prick, he did that all on his own," Nox stated. He knew what my father had put me through, what he'd put everyone through. He knew every sordid, filthy story I had to tell. They all did. And like soldiers in arms, they stood by me, supported me, letting me get my crazy out in any way I wanted to because letting me get my crazy out in any way I wanted to, because they knew that's how I coped. Sometimes, crazy is the only way. Crazy is the best way, if you asked me. "He doesn't," I concurred, letting my arms fall to my sides. "But until I'm satisfied, I'm going to piss all over his memory and make sure everyone in this town knows that I might be the joker, but he was the fucking joke." I threw my head back and sucked in a breath of the cold night air, exhilaration washing over me. "Feels good, doesn't it?" I called out into the night. Then I lowered my gaze to look at my brothers. "It feels good to know we have control. We're all kings here. We can do anything we want to. This is our town."

"Amen to that," Nox replied, and the others hummed their agreement. "So, are you finished for tonight? Ready for a pint down the pub?" Dax asked, but I shook my head. "Not tonight. I have one more mark of disrespect that I need to pay, and this one is all on me." I patted each one of them on the shoulder as I started to walk away. "Fellas, it's been… memorable, as always. Feel free to take a piss on his grave before you leave." And with that, I walked away, knowing that this was the last time I'd ever set foot in this graveyard.