Page 1 of The Absence of You
Chapter One
DAHLIA
PRESENT
Fifty-three pounds and a lousy one pound seventy in tips. That’s all I have to show for the ten-hour shift I’ve just worked. That, and a painful blister starting on my left heel. I hate this shitty job, in this shitty greasy spoon café, and I hate these shitty, cheap-arse shoes. Tucking the cash back into the envelope my boss left me, I shove it in the back pocket of my jeans, before hanging up my apron on the hook on the back of the kitchen door. I’ve worked this job every weekend for three years, and it never gets any better. I should look for something else, but with my final exams coming up this year and my other responsibilities, I just figure why make life more complicated than it already is?
At least my boss lets me take home any leftovers. Saves me cooking tonight. I place the remaining sandwiches into a takeaway box and make my last checks of the café, before I lock up and begin the short walk back to the flat I share with my mum. She’s rarely in any state to prepare a meal these days, so I’m glad to have something easy for us to eat after being on my feet all day. I try to push the thought of what will be waiting for me at home out of my mind. She was still sleeping it off when I left this morning, but at least she was alone. It hasn’t escaped my notice that she’d been spending more and more time with one of our neighbours lately.
We’d lived opposite Niall Kellan for years, between his frequent stints in prison, that was. Growing up, he’d barely said more than a few words to me, but the last few weeks he seemed to have developed an interest in my mum, and he’s not exactly who you’d want as a potential stepdad. I reckon Niall’s in his late thirties, not that you could tell from looking at him. He could be handsome, if he hadn't broken his nose so many times or if he bothered to bathe and shave occasionally. He’s known as ‘Knuckles’ around the estate. It’s rumoured he gained his nickname as a teenager after beating one of his ‘mates’ into a coma with his bare fists. He served a few years in juvie and then returned to the estate with an even scarier reputation than when he’d left. According to Mrs. Barry from flat 12, who’s lived here since they built the place, residents would go to him for favours when they were desperate or down on their luck, and he would help them. The only problem was, he wasn’t doing it out of the goodness of his heart. He always collected what he’s owed, by whatever means necessary.
Whatever the truth about him is, there’s no denying he gives off dangerous vibes and most people do their best to avoid him. I can’t believe Mum is mixed up with him. Actually, I take that back. I can believe it. The last few years she’s been on a one-woman mission of self-destruction, so of course why not add relationship with council estate’s most violent resident to the list?
As per usual, the lift is out of order, so I climb the eight flights of stone staircase, cursing that we live on the top floor. My mum and I have called this rundown block of flats home for the entire eighteen years of my life, so you’d think I’d be used to it by now. At least ours is the first door in the corridor. Just as I turn my key in the lock, the door to the opposite flat creaks opens behind me.
“Dahlia, there you are.” Niall’s familiar voice makes the hairs on my neck stand up. “You shoulda called me. I woulda picked you up, you know that.” He moves out of his flat and stretches a tattooed arm across my doorway, blocking my way past. I try not to react as the smell of stale sweat from his armpit hits me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him look me up and down before licking his thin lips, waiting for me to respond.
“I’ll remember that for next time, thanks.” I grind out, willing my mum to hear us, to open the door, “I need to go in now. My mum is waiting for me for dinner.” I lift my bag of sandwiches to show him. He eyes the bag before looking back at me.
“See, the thing is, your ma, she owes me some money. So why don’t you go in and have your little dinner and then later you can come to mine, and we can make some arrangement for gettin’ it paid back?” Fuck, of course, that’s what this is. I thought she knew better than to borrow money off this dick. Last week, he’d seen me putting groceries back in the corner shop when I couldn’t afford to pay for everything I’d picked up. He’d turned up at our flat a few hours later with a bag of groceries for us. At first I was grateful, but after I’d put it away, he asked me to follow him to his place and told me I could repay him by doing a small cleaning job. I sigh.
“Fine. I’ll be there about eight.” With that, he lets go of the door frame and backs away, allowing me to open the door.
“I knew I could count on you being a good girl for yer ma,” Niall calls after me, his broad scouse accent echoing. I can feel his beady eyes drilling into my back as I make my way into the flat.
My mum is slouched back on the couch watching television, a bottle of beer in her hand, but like always, her face lights up when she sees me, so I walk in, trying not to let my discomfort show on my face. God knows she doesn’t need another reason to drink.
A couple of hours later, my mum has switched to wine and is now fast asleep on the couch, so I pull a blanket over her and help myself to what’s left in her glass. It’s not my favourite drink, but I need something to take the edge off whatever horrible task Niall has planned for me tonight. I swallow back another swig of the cheap wine, the sour taste making me nauseous. I’d only picked at the sandwiches I’d brought home, so my stomach is near empty, which isn’t helping. It’s nearly eight o’clock, so I drain the glass. I’d better be on time, or he’ll only come looking for me. I stand and wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans before striding across our small living room. Grabbing my keys off the hook before shutting the door quietly so I don’t wake my mum, I take the few steps across the narrow hallway between our flats.
I’m steeling myself to knock on the door as it swings open. Niall’s standing less than a foot from me, his wiry frame towering above me, an unlit cigarette hanging from his grinning mouth.
“Thought I could hear you skulking around out here, hurry up and come in, girl.” This wasn’t the first time I’d been in his flat. The small cleaning job he’d asked me to do last week turned out to be cleaning his kitchen. I had worked on it for hours, and the smell of bleach clung to my skin for days after. It was filthy, but the worst part had been that he’d stood and watched me the whole time. His eyes on me had made my skin crawl. No doubt he had something similar planned again.
He stands to the side to let me pass. As I get further into his flat, the stench of stale beer, smoke, and something rancid hits my nostrils, making me gag. His flat is the mirror image of ours, a small living room, with a small galley kitchen off it and a door on the opposite side, leading off to the bedrooms and bathroom. But while the two flats are the same layout and both are a pretty sorry excuse for a home, I do my best to keep ours tidy, and so did my mum once upon a time, whereas Niall’s place is grimy. The wallpaper is yellowing and peeling off in the corners and the tattered curtains hang unevenly from the rail. There’s an overturned bin in the corner, overflowing ashtrays, and empty beer cans covering the coffee table. I know my mum and I don’t live in luxury, but we try to make the best of what we have.
Expecting him to demand the same payment as last time, I gingerly step over a pile of rubbish towards the kitchen.
“Where do you think you’re goin’?” he demands. I stop in my tracks,
“I was going to clean the kitchen. Like last t-t-time?” I stumble over my words.
“You’re eighteen now, that right?” His gaze runs over me, lingering on my chest, making me feel dirty. “Figured you could pay off your debt a different way, seein’ as you’re an adult now.” I swallow, dread pooling in my stomach, as he steps towards me. He takes the cigarette from his mouth and puts it behind his ear, before leaning closer. I try not to grimace at the unwelcome smell of his foul, hot breath. I turn away from him, only for him to run his rough tongue up the side of my face. Flinching, I step away from him, my hands itching to push him away from me but knowing better than to piss him off.
He tilts his head and narrows his eyes as I take another step backwards, trying not to trip over anything on the littered floor.
“Aw come on. Don’t be like that. I’ve been waitin’ for ya to be all grown up, cos I ain’t a nonce or nothin’ like that.” This is bad. Really, really, bad. He is between me and the flat door, but it’s still open. I decide to make a run for it, but just as I dart forward, Niall anticipates my movement and beats me to it, slamming it shut.
“Please, let me clean the kitchen again. And the bathroom too? I did a good job last time, didn’t I?” I plead with him. “Or I can get you the money she owes. I got paid today.” I need that money to buy food for the week, but suddenly that seems like less of a priority.
Niall turns toward me, anger radiating off him. I regret my words as he grabs me by the throat and turns us around, so my back is against the door, forcibly pressing his body against mine. I try not to baulk as he rubs his groin and hard length against my stomach.
“Listen, you ungrateful little bitch, you owe me, and like always, I add a tax to the debts I’m owed. You’ll pay up, and I’ll be the one decidin’ the price.” He spits out his words as I struggle against him. Tightening his hold on my throat with one hand, he uses his other to unfasten the button on his trousers. Tears blur my vision as his rough hand compresses my throat. I’m becoming lightheaded. I claw at his arms, but it’s useless. He’s too strong.
Just as I think I might pass out, he lets go of my throat and I gasp, trying to fill my lungs. My relief is short lived as he seizes my shoulders, his fingers painfully digging in as he pushes me down until I’m kneeling, trapped between him and the door. The cigarette he tucked behind his ear falls onto the floor and as he adjusts his stance, I watch as it’s crushed under his foot without him even noticing. “You’ll do as I say or the next time your ma owes me, I will make this your full-time job,” he snarls.
I close my eyes and try to pretend I’m somewhere else. Anywhere else but here. I have forgiven my mum for a lot of shit over the last few years. I’ve missed school so I could work extra hours to pay for our food. I’ve rung her work to make excuses when she’s been too hungover to go in. I’ve cleaned up her vomit. I’ve been the fucking adult in our relationship for longer than I can remember. But this? I’m not sure I will ever be able to forgive her for making the choices that have led to this moment.
Keeping my eyes screwed shut, I hear him lower his zipper, and I picture my favourite place in the world. My safe haven. Happy memories of summers spent at my grandmother’s house, my mum before her addiction took over everything, and my childhood best friend, Grayson. I focus on these memories of happier times as I try to distract myself from my reality.
