Chapters (90)
I know what a dysfunctional family is. I googled it. Fifteen signs you come from a dysfunctional family. Thirty-two ways you know you grew up in a dysfunctional family. What makes a functional family vs dysfunctional. Surviving dysfunctional families. I have twelve of the fifteen signs. I didn’t even look at the thirty-two. I don’t know, do people in families like mine ever actually kill each other? Like my dad could kill my brother. He hates him. I could kill my mam. My dad could kill my mam. Everything in our family is a secret until it’s too late. My brother even tried to kill himself. That’s what the no brake marks means. You see it on the news. The guards said there was No Evidence Of Braking at the scene. Suicide among young men is on the rise since The Crash. Nobody knows why. FFS. I hate my family. It Is The Worst. Every time. Every time I want to scream. I can feel something screaming inside me.
I took my brother’s razor blades out of the drawer and sat on the bed. Like cutting yourself was meant to shut things out. I googled it. All you can think about is the pain. I took a blade out. I thought the first thing I should do is disinfect it. Like even skin has bacteria. I could still here the screaming. I heard my mam telling my dad to get the fuck out of her life. I undid my jeans and rolled them down. I pressed the blade against the soft part of my thigh, on the inside. I thought, Some day some guy is going to fall in love with me and when we’re in bed he’s going to look at my legs and say, what are these scars? Then someone would know what kind of a shit life I’m living right now. I pressed the blade but I couldn’t make myself cut. I didn’t have the guts. I put the blade back in the pack. I heard the door slamming downstairs and I heard my brother go to his room. The shouting was still happening. I went downstairs and called The Dog and we went out for a walk. Not to Regan’s Glen. A normal day in my house.
31
Me and The Dog walking along the road. A car stopped and the window rolled down. It was the Bowles guy.
Hello, he said.
Hiya.
Need a lift?
Like, no?
Nice dog. What’s his name?
The Dog.
Yes?
That’s his name. The Dog. He belongs to my brother. If he was mine I’d call him Stupid.
The Bowles guy laughed.
That’s a good one.
Thanks.
I just stopped to say you owe me for my recycling bin, you and your friend.