Bête Noire

Avery

With a hiss of the air brakes, the truck I’m sitting in pulls to a stop.

“You sure you wanna do this, kid? Rumour has it they ain’t too friendly from what I’ve heard.”

The driver forces a smile. He knows I wouldn’t have travelled all this way to change my mind at the last minute.

When I look out the window, there's not much to see. There are just trees as far as the eye can see, and the only light is the orange glow from the almost setting sun. It gives the whole place an otherworldly glow, and not for the first time, I wonder if this is a wise move.

I glance down the unkempt road. A rickety sign reads 'Gealach Dorch'.

I roll my eyes. With a town name like that, it isn’t any wonder they’re a grumpy lot. I doubt that half the population could pronounce it; I know I can’t.

I sigh. It feels like I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. No one in their right mind would come to a place like this, but I don’t really have a choice. If I have family here, then I have to find out. Not that they will probably want to know me. No one came forward to offer me a home when my mum died. That's how I ended up at the orphanage. At least, that’s what they told me, and nuns don't lie, do they? I barely remember my mum, but at least I have an old photograph. She was a lot younger when it was taken, but I still recognise the likeness. My hand goes to the necklace around my neck that I never take off. The photograph and the necklace are all I have. The name on the back of the photograph led me here. Why here? It’s in the middle of nowhere. I can’t believe she was here, just passing through. Did she have a fling with the man in the photograph? Was he my father? And does he still live here? That's even if he's still alive? I have to find out. It's the only clue I have to who I really am.

I smile at the driver. At least he was kind. He didn't try to take advantage of me, not like some men would.

If I had a dad, I like to think they might be someone like him. He's a complete stranger, but still, if I find my dad, he will be too.

“Thanks for the ride, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I offer, but it doesn’t sound convincing. Not to me and not to the man who gave me a lift.

I jump down from the cab and slam the door shut.

The driver doesn't hesitate before he pulls away. Not giving me a backwards glance, or a chance to change my mind and leaving me in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees.

I glance around. I have a strange feeling that I'm being watched, but of course I'm not. I'm in the middle of nowhere, at night. Who would be fool enough to be here, apart from me?

I look down the road, which is actually more of a dirt track. It looks like it's barely used.

Well, here goes nothing.

The track goes on for miles or so it seems, and after a while, I’m not convinced that there’s going to be anything at the end of it, let alone a small town.

I'm just at the point when I consider turning back, when I see silhouettes of buildings in the distance.

As I get closer, I notice a few lights on in some of the buildings, and the dirt track becomes more of a cobblestone road.

It's a little like walking back in time. There are no streetlights, or any cars that I can see, or people for that matter. They must be tucked away in their little houses.

As I venture further in, I come to a crossroads. Glancing to the right, it seems that this way is more of a commercial area. I see what looks like a bar and a few shops.

Most of them are closed, but there is one that’s open. It looks a bit like a mini mart, selling all the types of things you might need last minute if you ran out at home.

I wonder if the person inside will be able to help me if I show them the photo. I know it's a long shot, but I have to start somewhere.

I’m also starving hungry. I dig into my pockets and find a few coins. Not enough for anything substantial, but at least it should buy me a candy bar. Not the most healthy option, but beggars can't be choosers.

I push open the door, and the person behind the counter looks up. He scowls at me. Maybe the truck driver was right. Maybe I’ve made a big mistake.

Regardless, I’m here now, so I have to make the best of it.

I grab a candy bar from the display and head towards Mr Grumpy.

Maybe he's not the best person to ask about the photograph. He looks like he'd rather be anywhere else than here, so I doubt he'll be very helpful. I’ll just stick to buying the candy bar and hopefully finding somewhere to sleep. It won't be the first time I’ve had to sleep outside. Maybe there’s an overhang behind one of the shops, or a bridge. Even if there was a motel, I wouldn't be able to afford it. I really should have thought this through a bit more before I threw all caution to the wind and headed to a strange town with hardly any money in my pocket.

As I approach the counter, he barely looks up from the magazine that he’s reading.

He curls his lip.

“We’re closed,” he mutters.

I frown.

“Well, the door’s open, and it clearly says on the outside that you’re open.”

He lifts his head, and I swear I see him sniff the air before he glares at me.

I must be imagining it, it's been a long trip after all, and I’m probably overtired.

“Well, we’re closed to the likes of you,” he snaps.

I roll my eyes.

“Seriously? You can’t just pick and choose who you serve, and it doesn’t look like you have a stampede of customers anyway.”

I toss the coins onto the counter and turn around.

I’ve barely walked a few steps when the man literally growls at me.

“Oi, you little thief. Bring that back.”

I ignore him. He’s got my money, so I just keep walking until I hear a loud thud.

I glance over my shoulder to see the man vaulting over the counter and moving at a pace that belies his size. I’m not about to get into a scuffle with a man twice my size, so I do the only thing I can; I run.

Thankfully, the door opens outwards, so it doesn’t slow me down too much. Not that it makes much difference because I’m barely out of the door when something, or should I say someone, hits me with full force.

I go flying across the gravel forecourt, landing face down. Thankfully, the palms of my hands take most of the damage as the gravel bites into my skin.

At first, I think it might be the grumpy shopkeeper, but as I glance up, I see him leaning on the door frame, with a malicious smirk on his face.

Before I have a chance to scramble away, I’m thrown onto my back, and I stare into the face of a beast of a man.

He straddles me and his hand wraps around my throat as he glares at me, a look of disgust on his face like he’s just trodden in something nasty.

His eyes are dark, almost black. Before I can take in anymore of him, he backhands me across the face.

I immediately taste copper as blood oozes from my split lip.

“Fucking thief,” he hisses

“I’m not. I paid him...”

The man curls his lip in disdain.

“I don’t care about some candy bar, you fucking mongrel, but this...”

He releases his grip on my throat as he rips the necklace from around my neck, breaking the chain in the process.

“Hey,” I yelp, “give that back.”

That necklace and the small photograph of my mother are the only things I have left of her. I barely remember her face, so I cling to those like a lifeline. I’m sure the necklace is worth something. It looks like it's made of gold, and the wolf’s head has a couple of amber gems for eyes. Even in my homeless state, I can’t bear the thought of parting with it. I’m not usually that sentimental, but something inside of me tells me it's important somehow. Now this brutal arsehole in front of me is about to steal it.

He ignores me and instead backhands me once again across the face.

“Where did you get this?” he growls as he holds it up.

The wolf's head gently spins on its chain, the gems glistening in the twilight.

“It’s mine…”

He narrows his eyes.

“Liar. A worthless little mongrel like you would never own something like this unless you stole it.”

He gazes at the necklace, and while he’s distracted, I try to make my escape.

I bring my knee up hard between his legs. By all rights, he should collapse in agony, but he doesn’t.

His attention is back on me immediately, and he barely winces.

“You little bitch,” he growls, “You’re going to pay for that.”

He grabs my hair, and it feels like a thousand needles are being pressed into my scalp. I scream, but he doesn’t seem to care. If anything, it eggs him on. He lifts my head and smashes it back down on the gravel.

I literally see stars, and the next thing I know, I’ve been flipped onto my stomach. He grabs my wrists, and I hear a click and feel the cold metal wrapping around my wrists; handcuffs.

I’m no stranger to the cops, but they usually take me in for vagrancy or trespass if they're clearing out a squat. Sometimes I think they only arrest me so that they can give me a bed for the night and something to eat. They always let me go with a warning the next morning.

Usually, they just cuff my hands in front of me, but this guy isn't a normal cop. He doesn’t seem to care that police brutality these days is a big no-no. Despite my spinning head, I’m compos mentis enough to know that he hasn't even read me my rights. He doesn’t stop there, though. He grabs my hair again as he growls at me through gritted teeth.

“Now where the fuck did you get this.”

“It’s mine,” I groan.

It's not the answer he was looking for, and this time it's my face that meets the gravel.

Blood trickles down my nose, and I can taste the copper in the back of my throat.

“You’ll tell me who you stole it from if it's the last thing you do, you little whore. Now, who did you steal it from?”

When I don’t answer, my face makes contact with the gravel again.

Darkness begins to cloud my vision, but I feel some relief as he releases his grip on my hair.

That relief is short-lived as a few seconds later, his boot makes contact with my chest.

There’s an almighty crack, pain radiates through my ribcage.

The last thing I hear before I drift into oblivion is the sound of his voice cursing me.

“You fucking piece of shit.”