BooksBarbecue
Back The Library
Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. THE LIBRARY
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Contents
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. EPILOGUE
  54. Questions for your Book Club
  55. Acknowledgements
  56. About the Author
  57. Become an Aria Addict

He turned and left and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was short-lived as I heard the sound of something crashing down the stairs. I leaped from the bed and took the two strides onto the landing. Dad was standing at the top of the stairs leaning against the banister for support. He was no longer holding my Xbox.

I don’t think I’ve ever been as cross as I was at that moment. I could have happily thrown him down the stairs after it. I’d saved my paper round money, birthday and Christmas money to buy that. I was shaking with anger but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing he’d got to me. I shrugged, walked back to my room and shut the door. For a while I waited, expecting him to come back shouting and goading me into a reaction but he didn’t.

I thumped out my frustration on my pillows. My Xbox. MY PISSING XBOX! What was he thinking? And more importantly what the hell was I going to do with my life now?

*

I was up early on Sunday for my paper round – I did the minimum number of rounds to be able to do the weekend one, which paid better. There was no sign of Dad. Only an empty bottle in the living room and the shattered plastic of my life at the bottom of the stairs. I ignored them both and went out. The chill of the early air did nothing to improve my mood, nor did the extra supplements with the papers weighing me down.

When I got back the house was silent. For a moment I was worried that he might be dead. You heard of it happening. People getting so drunk they choked on their own vomit. I dashed upstairs and opened his bedroom door – my hand was shaking. The smell was rank. I remember when this had been Mum and Dad’s bedroom. I used to run in there and jump on the bed. I liked to snuggle down in the middle between both of them. Back then it smelled good. Sort of a fabric softener flowery kind of smell, like Mum. It smelled of home. But that was all gone now. Everything was stagnant. There was a mound of my father in the bed. Still and silent. I waited in the doorway, not sure what to do. At last he let out a heavy breath – he was alive. I closed the door and retreated to my room.