Stuart James - Apartment 6

A minute later, the front door closed with a loud thud.

Meagan quickly placed her toy bunny onto the bed and walked along the upstairs hallway.

She listened to her father shouting in the hall, telling her mother she’d never do it again, that she’d never have the opportunity, he was going to ruin her. He stated over and over that her life was finished. She’d pay for what happened in the last couple of days, and he’d see to it.

Pay? What does Daddy mean? How much would it cost Mummy? She shouldn’t have to give Daddy money: he has his own. Mummy wears the same clothes and her shoes are broken. Daddy always has nice clothes. He always looks smart.

As she listened, Meagan heard her mother. She was talking and crying simultaneously. ‘I’ve had it with you. I’m going to kill myself, I swear. You’ll be on your own, you bastard, do you hear me? I fucking despise you, every ounce of my body has hatred towards you, what you represent, how you treat me, and your own daughter. She’s your flesh and blood and she’s witnessing the heartless, calculating bastard of a father that you are. How do you think she feels about relationships? Husbands and wives? How can you do it, Sean? How?’

‘Tricia, lessons need to be learned. I love you, you know that. But I’m doing this for your own good. God, I do everything around the house while holding down a full-time job. You should show me the respect I deserve; it’s not difficult. Just show me some fucking respect.’

Meagan looked down through the bannister and saw her father remove his belt. Tricia sobbed, ‘Go on, just fucking kill me, I’m no good to anyone. Do it, kill me. I beg you. Anything is better than the hell you put me through.’

Sean lifted the belt over her head, stretching it out, holding it at each end. He held the leather strap above his wife’s head, bringing it down hard, catching the side of her face with the metal buckle. Tricia screamed out.

Sean was sweating, a red flush moving from his neck, spreading across his face. His cheeks were bloated with air, his eyes wild. As his wife winced in pain on the floor, he lifted the belt again, bringing it down hard on the side of Tricia’s neck. ‘You’ll pay, you bitch. It’s another simple lesson for those who betray me.’

Sean continued lifting the belt, holding it in the air like a prized trophy and bringing it down hard onto his wife’s body.

Meagan listened from the hallway upstairs, covering her mouth with her hand, unable to believe what her father was doing. She needed to act fast. A sentence went over and over in her head like a loop, an ongoing conveyor belt. As hard as she tried, Meagan couldn’t shake it from her mind.

She raced into her bedroom, making sure her bunny was safe, then she quickly grabbed what she needed from her coat pocket and made her way downstairs.

Meagan listened as she passed the living room; the moans from her mother, the cracking sound every minute or so, echoing through the house. Her father repeating the words, ‘You’ll learn, lady. It’s for your own good, you hear?’

Meagan stayed hidden in the kitchen, waiting. She could hear her father had stopped; he was breathing heavily, sounding tired and worn out. Her mother was crying. The living room door swung open, and her father went upstairs. Meagan held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t notice she was out of bed, listening, praying for him to go into his bedroom. Please don’t find me down here, Daddy. I know you’re mad with Mummy. I don’t want you to be mad at me too.

A second later, she heard his door close. Meagan waited. Fear had seized her body as she stepped forward, her heart racing, her body flooded with adrenaline.

She slowly tiptoed along the hallway towards the living room door, listening intently. Her father was talking in his bedroom, mumbling. Meagan struggled to hear what he was saying.

She moved the door handle slowly downwards, hoping her father wouldn’t hear. The door opened, and Meagan eased it away from her, slowly pushing it until her mother was visible.

Meagan saw her, lying on her back, holding her face, cowering on the floor.

Slowly, Meagan came closer. The sentence was repeating in her head, over and over – a stuck record with the arm jumping continuously, jamming on those same words.

She crouched down beside the dishevelled shape. Her mother hadn’t noticed Meagan entering the room.

‘Mummy. Are you okay?’ Meagan whispered in the darkness. She waited patiently for an answer which didn’t come. She put her hand to her mother’s face, feeling the indents, the cuts from the beating she’d taken.

Meagan held the treat she’d been given by the guy at the market, a small packet which she tore open with her teeth, placing a piece of the bar into her hand and then forcing it into her mother’s mouth.

She watched as her mother opened her eyes, gazing at her daughter – the smile of unequivocal love. Tricia chewed hard, pleased to be alive, seeing her daughter’s face. Her husband was gone, which was an immediate relief.

Meagan broke off another piece, feeding her mother first, then herself.

Suddenly her mother spasmed, coughing hard, her face turning red. Tricia felt nauseous; her face was swelling, her immune system in overdrive, launching a violent response. Meagan held her mother’s hand as she watched her gasping for breath, struggling to muster the strength to inhale. Tricia grabbed her own throat, rubbing her neck to clear the airways, begging for Meagan’s help, asking for water, but unable to form any words.

‘It’s okay, Mummy. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? I heard you telling Daddy you want to die.’

Tricia was foaming at the mouth, her breaths became harder, her face a bright purple colour. She was slamming her hands on the wooden floor.

Meagan listened, hearing her father’s bedroom door open, footsteps pounding down the stairs.

The door burst open; her father was standing under the wooden frame.

‘Meagan, what’s going on? Get away from her now.’

‘She wants to die, Daddy. I heard her.’

‘What have you done, Meagan? What the fuck have you done?’ He slapped his hand against the light switch, suddenly seeing his wife more clearly. She’d stopped breathing, her body now still, her hands neatly by her sides.

‘I gave her some of my bar to help her die, Daddy. It’s what Mummy wanted.’

Meagan listened to her father scream. She watched him drop to his knees, desperately trying to pump his wife’s stomach, wiping the mucous from her mouth.

‘Get help Meagan, quickly. Get Mummy’s phone, dial 999. Oh my God, don’t do this Tricia please, I’m here. You’re not going to die on us, do you hear?’

Meagan watched as her father raced to the kitchen. Drawers slid open and banged shut. He returned a minute later. Meagan glanced at the EpiPen in his hand. He knelt over his wife, ramming the syringe into her thigh, hoping it wasn’t too late.

‘No, Daddy, she wants to die?’

‘You don’t get it, Meagan, you don’t fucking get it.’ Sean recalled the many times he’d heard Tricia explaining death to his daughter. She’d asked numerous times, kids had spoken about it at school, one of her classmates, Mary Darcy, had lost her father to a massive heart attack. Mary hadn’t been at school for over a week and her friends were concerned. When she returned, they questioned her. She’d told them her father wouldn’t be around anymore. When Meagan had questioned this, Tricia told her he’d only gone to sleep until the bad times had passed and Mary would see him again when life was better.

In a panic, Sean rose to his feet; his head spun, the living room now resembling a fun house. The walls were closing in on him, turning, mirrors capturing his reflection. His head was confused. He saw half a peanut brittle bar on the floor.