Selena Davis had a face like stone as she led her father’s funeral procession. Her mother could barely walk, shamed her, she did.
Selena could feel sorry for her little brother, Eamon, but not her mother. Not when she had spent every day nagging at the man. Nagging for money, nagging whenever he went to the pub; she even nagged when he was caught dealing. As if he wasn’t doing it for her, for money, for the family, to stop her nagging in the first place.
Her mother was the one who pushed him into it; and the one who turned her back when he needed her. Now he was dead, dumped naked and bloody in the Grand Canal. All. Her. Fault.
Selena sneered while her mother wailed, frowned while the priest sang the praises of a man he never even knew. “A good man, a father and a husband.” Like that was the most important thing in life. To be a husband.
The worst part was knowing the people who murdered him were probably in the church, looking pious. Knowing they were untouchable.
The people who knew her own father was dead before she did sat in the front rows. Scurrying rats, they fought to be the first to tell her all about it. Human locusts, they fed on the pain of others, feasted upon the look on her face when she found out her father was dead. She could only imagine the high they had gotten when Eamon had to be sedated.
The poor kid hadn’t slept properly since. He had to have the lights on all night and even then he woke, screaming from night terrors. Looking at his pale little face, she couldn’t believe he would ever be the same happy-go-lucky kid again.
She couldn’t comfort him, not when the emptiness inside her kept growing, eating away at anything that made her happy. The world had been a whole spectrum of colour. Now it was a dreary shade of grey. The sky was overcast and the incessant drizzle served to make her even more miserable. It was like the earth itself had given up hope.
The world deserved to be punished. Her father deserved justice. But neither would happen and she was just a kid. A nobody. And her mother didn’t care. Not really. She played up the tears knowing the neighbours would send around an envelope, maybe bring some food. Nobody cared, they wanted an excuse to gossip and get the dirt and, by God, her mother was only itching to spread it.
At the wake, Selena grabbed a naggin of vodka and hid in her room with Janice, her best friend. She couldn’t feel happiness, didn’t want to feel sadness so she would aim for comfortably numb. Janice took tiny sips of the alcohol but Selena discovered that knocking back mouthfuls didn’t taste quite as poisonous. The heat turned into a nice warm sensation that shrouded her from the pain. The bitterness still penetrated her soul, no amount of vodka could wash away those feelings.
“Maybe we should go back down, get something to eat,” Janice said.
Selena shrugged. The room was a little hazier and maybe she was a bit hungry now. Maybe it would piss her mother off if she could tell Selena had been drinking. It would be a miracle if she even noticed.
They went downstairs, Selena giggling loudly on the way. Nothing was funny but it got her noticed. A few of the neighbours pursed up their lips, making the lines around their mouths more pronounced. Others whispered together and pointed which made Selena feel all the more rebellious. Grown up.
She flounced over to her mother and felt the blood run from her face. Her little brother was in bed, sick with grief; yet her mother, twisted with drink, was all over Graeme Moore. Her fingers stroked his thigh and her bra was showing. Selena’s stomach turned. Her Dad only dead and already her Ma was acting like a total slapper. Two can play at that game.
Selena wanted . . . something. Graeme Moore was hideous but he was loaded. All of his gang were. If her mother wanted him, Selena would take him first. Out of spite. Anything to soothe the acid, to fill the empty space, to do something that meant she wouldn’t have to think about her Da in a box under the dirt and her Ma pissing on his memory.
She had always told herself she was saving her virginity for someone special, for love, for the right time. Who gave a fuck about any of that now? Those days were over and if letting some randomer inside her could distract her for a while then it was worth it. Anything was worth it. Anything that blocked out emotion was fine by her.
Selena rolled up the waist of her skirt and yanked down her top until more of her small cleavage showed. She ignored Janice and made her move, standing in front of her mother with a cocked hip.
“Shouldn’t you go check on Eamon?” Selena said, loud enough for everyone to hear. Her mother’s cheeks and nose were flushed red, a little mascara ran under her eyes. The woman looked around to see who was paying attention. Everyone. She couldn’t neglect her son now. Selena knew how to play the game well.
“I was just about to,” her mother said, glaring back at Selena. The widow rose out of her seat, her movements slow and awkward. As soon as she moved away, Selena took her seat and held Graeme’s gaze. He looked back with interest, slipping his arm around the back of her chair.
“Little Selena, all growed up,” he said, his breath stale with drink and cigarettes.
A smile froze on her face. “Bit boring here, isn’t it?”
He shrugged. “I’m heading to a house party in a few.”
“Not inviting me?” She tried to sound sultry but it came out different.
“Might be a bit too grown up for you love. Wouldn’t want you to run home crying.”
She snorted. “Yeah, right. Give us a lift then.”
“Who’s us?”
She jerked her head towards her friend. “Janice and me. Whatcha say?”
He stared at Janice for too long. She was listening to an old woman repeat herself.
“Alright then,” Graeme said. “Get your mate. But it’s a grown-up party so if you can’t take the heat, stay home like a good little girl.”
The look on his face made Selena’s blood run cold but she nodded and grabbed Janice by the arm.
“Come on,” she whispered. “We’re out of here.”
The ride to the party was silent and uncomfortable. Graeme brought them to a tiny, scruffy flat that smelled like cat piss. Janice wanted to leave but Selena made her promise not to ditch her. They sat on a dirty sofa that was ripped and covered in dark brown stains. Graeme’s mates were all old and ugly but they had cans and joints. Enough hash to share. They passed spliffs to Selena and her friend but none offered the powder they shoved up their noses.
Selena did her best to flirt with Graeme but he kept ignoring her to talk to Janice. How could she? Janice kept looking away from Graeme, pretending to be coy, probably. She crossed her arms to cover the breasts Selena envied. She played hard to get and it worked, as far as Selena could see.
Selena watched his eyes follow Janice, his hand travel up her thigh – even though she pushed him away. Selena saw him look at her friend the way she wanted someone to look at her. Anyone. A little attention, that’s all. But not even a couple of winos wanted her, yet her geeky friend got all the attention. It wasn’t fair.
Selena’s heart grew darker and darker as all of her insecurities and jealousies combined together and melded with her sadness and loss. A great big pit of nothingness lay within and she had no idea how to fill it.
Any pair of hands were better than none so she sat in the lap of the least repulsive of Graeme’s friends. She whispered in his ear all the things she would do to him and meant every word. He pinched her wrists, his eyes a warning she didn’t heed. As he led her out of the flat, Janice ran after her.
“Wait for me,” Janice said, her eyes pleading with her friend.
Selena’s voice was cold, like a stranger. “Nah. Have fun.”
Graeme grabbed Janice from behind with a creepy smile on his face; he carried her into another room. Selena heard her best friend scream then closed the front door behind her.