Kite
Five Years Ago
Poppy wasn't a kid anymore. She wore make-up and sang songs written by stupid boy bands that thought they were cool. She had more friends than me. It figured. Poppy was the kind of girl everyone liked. All smiles and kindness. Offering seats to people she didn't know on the bus. Throwing spare change into the hands of the homeless. I was harder, colder. Less open to people. I found the pressing bodies of London suffocating, where as she enjoyed the weave and dance of people as they made their way to the underground station. I was dark, she was light. It had become more and more that way as we'd grown up. I became more like my Dad, whilst she became more like Mum. We were polar opposites and yet still, somehow, closer than we'd ever been.
Mum was playing the piano, humming along to Come All Ye Faithful a few days before Christmas. Dad was working. He was always working. I hadn't noticed it when we were younger because he always brought us presents when he came home, told us stories at bedtime, made up for the time he wasn't there. He didn't do that anymore. Nowadays, we barely saw him. And when we did, he was distant. He looked older. I was only thirteen and though he'd always looked old to me, he didn't seem youthful like he once had. His dark hair was turning grey. He wasn't fat and happy, he was grossly thin and always in a grim mood.
Mum made up for his absence though. Always happy, always baking or laughing, or singing songs. She seemed happier every day. But it was only today, when I really looked at her sitting there, whilst Poppy copied the dance of a girl band on the TV, that I saw through it. The way she glanced anxiously toward the door. Constantly checking the time. She did that a lot. As if she wondered when Dad was going to get home. As if he might not come home.
I left the book I was reading on the table. I liked to read. Liked the quiet, where Poppy liked the loud. All enjoyed within the same room somehow.
I moved to Mum's side as she hummed the last of her tune and her hands fell still.
“Christmas soon.” I smiled. “I wonder what Santa will bring.”
“Ha. Ha,” Poppy said from across the room. We'd managed to keep the lie going until last year. Ten years old. Much older than the rest of her class. I loved how much she believed in things. Her whole heart was invested. I envied her of that.
Mum gripped my hand, her wedding band pinching my skin.“Your father's had a big promotion this year. We're thinking of going away for Christmas, would you like that?”
“What?” I blurted and Poppy stopped dancing.“We've already set up the tree. What do you mean we're going away?”
She nodded, smiling brightly. Too brightly.“Yes. Anywhere you like. How does Disneyland sound?”
“Disneyland!?” Poppy jumped up and down, grinning her wide grin.
“Yes,” Mum said enthusiastically, but tears were in her eyes.
“Mum?” I gripped her fingers, sensing something was wrong.
A bang came at the door before she answered me. The kind of ear-splitting sound that only exists in horror movies. When someone's trying to get in.
We all turned, as one, looking toward the hallway that led to the front door.
Mum stood, her hand loosening on mine. I tried to hold on, but she pulled away, striding toward the noise.
BANG.
I jumped, a gasp escaping me as I backed up. Poppy was at my side in seconds, gripping my arm.
“Mum?” Poppy called as she crept toward the hall.
Mum glanced back as a huge crack sounded then feet pounded into the hallway.
“Go!” Mum hissed. “Hide!”
But it was too late. Three men in balaclavas stormed into the room, dragging my father behind them. His face was black and blue, his shirt torn as they threw him to the floor at my mother's feet. Blood spread across the sheepskin rug from a wound I couldn't see.
I pushed Poppy back, my heart pounding in my ears.
“No!” Mum dropped to Dad's side, cradling him in her arms. “What have you done-”
She didn't finish that sentence as one of the men whipped the butt of a gun across her head and she dropped to the floor beside Dad.
I screamed. Poppy screamed. The collective sound rang in my ears, so loud I couldn't hear anything else. I didn't think I'd ever hear anything else after that moment.
“You happy now?” One of the men grabbed hold of my father's lapels, dragging him upright. “I didn't wanna bring this to your family. But you steal from me, you steal from IDAHO.”
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please, leave them alone. I'll pay you back. I'll get the money. I'll do anything you say!” Dad was in bits. I'd never seen him so weak. A gun swung to meet his forehead and Poppy screamed again, burying her face in my shoulder.
I gazed on, shaking. I didn't know what to do. Didn't know anything but what I'd been told at school. Ring 999 in an emergency. Useless now. I never considered it before. But when the emergency's happening, it's too late for help. Best case scenario, the police eventually show up and carry the bodies out one by one. Open a crime scene.
“Dad?” I said, my voice breaking. I wanted answers. I was angry. Angrier and more scared than I'd ever been.
“Your daddy's a thief, girl,” the man who'd spoken before addressed me. He had an accent, but in all the chaos I couldn't place it. No words would come to my head but these: Dad is a lie. Just like Santa had been. He isn't a businessman. He's a criminal.
“Don't listen, darling, don't listen,” Dad begged from the floor.
“This isn't how I wanted it to be, you know that?” The man pointed the gun at my mother. “But orders are orders.”
One of the men behind him grabbed his arm. “We don't kill them,” he growled and hope lifted my heart.
Yes. Maybe we'd survive this. Maybe we'd all walk free. Dad would explain. This could all be explained.
The leader shrugged him off and pulled the trigger. Mum slumped to the floor and I froze. My world crumpled in on itself. Poppy was sobbing, her nails raking along my arm. But I couldn't feel anything but the silent tears gliding down my cheeks. Always the same. Poppy loud, me quiet. Even now that didn't change.
“Get rid of the kids. We don't need any more mess to clean up here,” the leader ordered and the other two men moved towards us.
“NO!” Dad roared, throwing himself at the man with the gun. Another shot sounded and that was it. My world ceased as I knew it. I was an orphan. Poppy was an orphan. And we were about to be two very dead orphans.
◐ ☼ ◐
“Stop the boat!” Mercy flew out of the cabin and I watched with interest as she charged down the deck on her high heels with more grace than should have been possible.
The engine cut out and I headed in her direction to see what all the fuss was about. Her hand was clamped around her iPhone, wheeling it left and right as she moved from one side of the yacht to the other. “Here, Varick's supposed to be right here,” she said through her teeth.
The crew looked reluctant to speak, glancing awkwardly between one another.
I moved to her side, resting my elbows on the railing. “Well I guess that's that.”
She left out a dramatic huff, glaring at the dark sea in utter confusion. My ears pricked up at a noise approaching, a sound that didn't belong in the middle of the ocean.
A song was playing, growing louder as it drew closer.
“I've paid my dues...”
I looked to Mercy as she lifted her head, evidently hearing it too.
“Time after time...”
She hurried back to my side, gazing down into the water.
“I've done my sentence. But committed no crime...”
I snorted a laugh, unable to help myself as Mercy's pretty features contorted into manic fury. She was beetroot red.
As a large log floated closer and closer, the song blared out the chorus full volume and Queen's We Are The Champions filled the air.
“WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS MY FRIENDS, AND WE'LL KEEP ON FIGHTING TILL THE END!”
As the log floated past us, I spotted one of the tablets from the last game, blaring out the music.
Mercy pointed at it, her face going from beetroot to tomato to aubergine in less than a minute.
“WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS, WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS! NO TIME FOR LOSERS, CAUSE WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS...OF THE WORLD!”
“BRING THAT TO ME NOW!” Mercy screeched and several of her crew jumped into action, someone providing a long pole to manoeuvre the log closer to the yacht, and all the while We Are The Champions blared around us. I hadn't felt like laughing so much since way before I'd been turned. Whoever had thought of this needed some kind of award.
Mercy approached me, venom in her eyes. “You think it's funny, do you?”
“Clearly.”
She looked like she was about to hit me, when one of her crew called, “Get the log! Stop that music now!”
I leant over the railing, watching and Mercy did the same, her golden hair blowing in and out of my face. My eyes narrowed on the device as one of the men reached for it. A click sounded, probably a sound only I was capable of hearing over the music and the sloshing water. And a faint ticking sound reached me just as another chorus of We Are The Champions started up. It took me less than a second longer to spot the grenade, the pin attached to the tablet the man was extracting from the log.
I didn't hesitate, I jumped, launching myself into the water.
I'd barely hit it before the whole world was torn apart. My vision exploded with light.
Red – white - blue.
I was forced further underwater from the explosion, the entire yacht blown to pieces, debris blasted through the sea like shrapnel.
As I resurfaced, I gasped at the sight of the huge fireball billowing into the dark sky above me. There was nothing left of the yacht but planks of wood. I gazed left and right, unable to believe my luck, a smile growing and growing on my face.
No-effing -way. This has got to be my miracle.
I turned to swim away, knowing my strength could get me to land. Freedom was so close, I could taste it.
“Don't you dare!” Mercy's voice caught my ear and I turned, grimacing at the sight of the remote control clutched in her fist, managing to point it at me as she clung to a plank of wood with her other hand.
I groaned my frustration. “Why can't you be dead?”
“Because-” A wave hit her in the face and she resurfaced with a splutter, her hair plastered to her cheeks and her mascara running everywhere. “I'm a bloody Helsing!”