Читать книгу Dead Inside - Noelle Holten - Страница 22

Robert Millard was sick and tired of having his life controlled by others. A restraining order, a licence, and fucking women. He took another sip of Tennent’s Super and licked his lips as the first hit of alcohol took over. It was noon, so he was doing well. The shakes had kicked in not long after he woke up this morning, but he managed to hold off, desperate to prove to himself that alcohol didn’t dictate his life.

Robert looked around the cramped bedsit. Black bin bags mixed full of dirty and clean clothes were piled in every available space. He needed to get out of this shithole or he’d go crazy. Picking up his mobile, he scrolled through the numbers until he came across the one he wanted. He pressed call. Let it ring until the answerphone kicked in.

‘Hey, it’s me. I know you’re there. Just pick up the fucking phone!’ He hung up and dialled again.

‘Quit playing games. I just want to talk. I want my stuff.’ He put the phone down. He felt the anger rise in him and grabbed another can. He pressed redial on the phone.

‘Fucking bitch! Pick up the phone or I will come round there and then you’ll be sorry!’

Robert grabbed his coat and headed to the pub. He wouldn’t let that bitch wind him up anymore. Her new boyfriend could deal with her now. He needed to be around people who understood him. If Louise had called the police, they would go to Robert’s bedsit first, so he thought it best to get out of there. If he was going to spend a night in the cells, he may as well be shit-faced first.

The usual suspects were propping up the bar when he walked into his local. He headed to the bar and ordered a pint of Stella Artois. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a £20 note. The last of his dole money. He hated this. If it wasn’t for Louise, he’d still have his job. A job he’d managed to keep for nearly four years. That bitch will pay one day. He looked around the room and spotted a familiar face.

‘Hey, Vicki. When did you get out?’

Vicki Wilkinson had lived in the area since the beginning of time. Shell Baker, one of Vicki’s oldest and closest friends, was also a regular at the pub, though she was nowhere in sight right now. Robert knew that Vicki had a terrible temper in drink and often found herself in and out of prison for short periods for fighting. Recent changes in the law meant that Vicki and other offenders who were given prison sentences under twelve months, now had to report to probation following their release. Robert laughed inwardly – Vicki wasn’t going to like that one bit – and the laughter continued when Robert said he was on probation too.

‘Who’s your PO, then?’ The words were slurred, and Robert had to lean in close to understand what Vicki was asking. She’d clearly been drinking since the early morning.

‘Some bitch … Lucy. Thinks she’s hard, but I see her hands shaking … She’s probably a fucking alky!’ They laughed again.

‘Mine is Sarah something or other. She’s OK, I guess.’ Vicki shrugged. ‘You still married?’ Vicki tried to focus on Robert’s wedding finger to see if he was wearing a ring.

‘Nah. That bitch threw me out. Says I beat her when the reality is, she gave as good as she got. What the fuck am I supposed to do when she flies at me? Let her hit me? Fuck that shit!’

‘Ah, you’re probably better off without her. Gis a drink will ya?’ The crooked smile on her lips told Robert that Vicki was still up to her old tricks.