Retribution: The trilogy

Prologue

The fan was whirring loudly, ´rattling relentlessly on its feeble stand as Vicky Sterling attempted to keep her body temperature below a seriously dangerous level. She was wondering how much more of the Mexican heat she could take before finally hitting the deck, but there had been no alternative move in that game of life for Vicky and her son, and she knew that she had to just suck it up, take it on the chin, it was her stupid bloody doing anyway, the reason they had to disappear from London, and that acceptance was the one and only reason she was able to stomach it. She was avoiding the heat for the day in the irritatingly small, one bedroom apartment which she shared with her fourteen year old son, Simon, who to Vicky was just amazing in every way, even on his crappy days, which he had every now and then being a teen, but he was still the best thing that had ever happened to her. Simon was sat in his usual position; legs crossed, on the cool tiles playing a computer game, ‘Black Monday’ on his play-station, the kid was on it so much she was convinced he came with his own captions. Simon, similar to her, wasn’t particularly tall, five, five, but had a strong build and perfectly defined muscles for a lad of his age. He had a shaved head, dimples on either cheek, and almost black, heart stopping, innocent eyes, which Vicky believed could turn even the grim reaper into an angel of mercy. Contrary to her eyes which were large, round and a piercing blue, yet had the uncanny ability to turn a very dark, menacing grey when she was truly irritated, which wasn’t all that often, as she had a surprisingly long fuse for someone who was fucked up in so many ways.

Simon appeared to be a conceited little shit to people who didn’t really know him, but they couldn’t be more off the mark, he would happily hack off his own right arm for anyone who was in real need of it, but on the other hand, he was one not to be screwed with either, or the person on the receiving end of his tasty right hook would be sorry that they had been foolish enough to cross him. Mother and son were kind of introverted, but that was merely because they generally preferred to observe the situation going on around them, than chat verbal diarrhoea like most of the tosser’s they had to tolerate, especially after the fools had sunk a few pints of the old stupid juice. They were under no delusions that people called them arrogant bastards, behind their backs that is, but it wasn’t arrogance, it was a combination of going off somewhere in their own worlds, where they generally preferred to be, and just not giving a toss. 

Their insignificant digs felt like a fucking doll house at the best of times, but someone had swung it for Simon and her to stay there for a month or so, rent free, until they could afford somewhere of their own more suitable for two fully sized human beings, and for that Vicky had to be grateful despite the anger which remained firmly deep in the pit of her stomach from the moment she woke until she would finally drift off. The regret ran so deep that she could feel the weight on her shoulders suppressing her, and the heaviness of her brows as they sunk lower over her eyes by the day. Vicky had given her son the bedroom, and she slept on a lumpy, bed settee, in the living room combined kitchen. It was as basic as the inside of an air raid shelter, with standard white washed walls, a frustratingly hideous picture of a vase and flowers, which she kept reminding herself to sling out, the thing pissed her off every time she caught sight of it from the corner of her eye, she didn’t know why she let it irritate her so much it was just a picture but what was the genius thinking who painted it, and more to the point, who in their right fucking mind would pay money for it and hang it on a wall? And sat in the corner was a primeval TV, which was capable of exploding at any given time. Vicky had absolutely no problem admitting that she was not accustomed to being on her arse like that, but couldn’t for the life of her comprehend how she would ever get out of the shit that she was so deeply buried in, but she would sort it somehow, because she was Vicky Sterling and had always maintained the natural ability to earn fists full of cash, to ensure her boy had everything he wanted and more, because she had been accustomed to the finery’s in life from the day that she was brought home from the orphanage, and adopted by a loaded, stuck up, barrister and his soul sucking wife.

But now she was boracic; really bloody boracic, without so much as a nicker to buy food for her boy. This, above everything else seriously tugged on the old heart strings on a daily basis, watching the love of her life starving; their bodies felt like they were trying to digest their selves, but what other choice did she have but to tell him ‘there’s no food today, but, things will get better, I promise’ she would utter with a huge, retching lump in the back of her throat. Truth be known, she didn’t have a foggiest how things would or could get any better, but she was one of life’s survivors and would somehow make sure her beautiful boy had the things he so rightly deserved, even if it meant the fucking death of her.

Vicky and her boy had done a runner from their huge home in north London, which she had bought outright by herself, doing a job no one would ever be proud of, or openly admit to, but she was above giving a rats, she would do anything for that boy. Their old home had sat at the end of a cul-de-sac, it had four large bedrooms, three with en-suites, a huge indoor swimming pool, all the top notch appliances, tasty white leather furniture, and the best money could buy fixtures and fittings. Outside, to the front of the house, on their horse shoe driveway, once sat her pride and joy, her brand new, black, top of the range, limited edition, BMW she had got for a steal, approximately a month before they had bolted, and now although the regret chipped away at her, she had to put the loss to the back of her mind or it would consume her to a degree of insanity, the one thing she had managed to keep intact.

Without even so much as a see ya lata, Vicky and Simon left behind a lot of special friends, who had always been considered family. Their home had been open at all times to every one of them, night or day, and the back door was never locked so that they could wander in and out as they pleased, which was pretty much all the time.

A few of Simon’s and Vicky’s personal belongings had been randomly chucked in a couple of suitcases, and the two of them made it away in the middle of the night. If Vicky hadn’t decided to get the fuck out of England, she would have without a doubt been facing the rest of her life in a slammer somewhere. If it wasn’t the long stretch which she would inevitably have been given that took her life, it would have been her heart. She knew without a shred of doubt that if she couldn’t be with her boy every day, her ticker would literally shatter into so many pieces that she would have curled her toes in a six by eight. 

Vicky had kind of, accidentally on purpose, cold bloodedly murdered her next door neighbour, and was not prepared do any length of time for it. She hadn’t meant to kill her, not really, but rage had built so sadistically inside that she had lost all control, momentarily. Well... the bitch had pushed her luck for the last time, frequently pissing off Simon and her for almost a year, giving them a shit load of unprovoked crap, and the final straw was that Sunday afternoon when she threw a brick over their adjoining back garden fence, splitting her sons cheek open. That was it, she had been able to ignore the verbal abuse and the childish pranks she had played for far too long, because that knob-head was a joke to the likes of Vicky, but hurting her boy was impossible for her to overlook. 

The moment her son had come charging into their home holding his blood streaked face, Vicky, in her very slight, five two frame saw red and red alone. Without a seconds thought, she hurled herself over the back garden fence which connected the two houses, and booted her way in through the slag’s back door, with a blood thirsty anger which would put a pre-menstrual Rottweiler to shame, she had seriously lost it and that bitch was gonna pay.

Vicky could see nothing in front of her, everything was a blur, and the only thing that appeared in focus was the target which was just pleading to be shattered, her nose, that was the aim to begin with anyway, and without any rational consideration, which she was apparently void of in that moment, hit it, she hit her nose again, and again with tasty left jabs and award winning rights until the tosser hit the deck with very little effort, seeing an opportunity, Vicky straddled on top of her, pinning her forearms down with her knees, this position she had learnt as a kid, compliments of those cunting older siblings, and was well aware that it was almost impossible to escape.

Vicky continued to throw blow after blow to that mouthy tarts face with all the strength she possessed, and with the euphoria she was feeling with each and every precise connection, was incapable of stopping, repeatedly twatting her until her face and torso had been smashed to a magnificent, unrecognizable state. Vicky took a swift batchas’ down at herself and realized that she too had been splattered in a confusion of sticky reds, browns, and what appeared to be little bits of white, loose flesh. That must have been her rings that caused that, not her. The dirty slag’s eyes swelled like a couple of large grapes and were barely open, Vicky laughed loudly, the bitch did look kind of animated, and she had never felt so proud of herself than she did at that instant, she had no idea that she was capable of making such an glorious mess, and with such little exertion. Why wouldn’t she just shut her goby trap? Vicky had in fact warned her repeatedly to ‘shut the fuck up’ but she was one brainless tart, and was incapable of just doing as she was told. Her claret soaked through Vicky’s clothes, had stuck her long blond hair together in random clumps, and for fucks sake, she could scarcely see through the tarts blood in her own eyes. The blurred vision pissed Vicky off immensely, turning her anger into a sinister rage. But would she shut her gob? No!   

‘Shut the fuck up and I’ll stop pounding ya.’ Vicky strongly advised for the sixth time. 

‘You’re gonna be in serious trouble for this Vicky, I’ll make sure of it.’ She spat through the gap where her four front teeth had been just a few minutes before. Alison was finally realizing that she was perhaps in serious danger, there was something menacing in Vicky’s smile, and she too wished she was capable of stopping her lips from flapping, she had always known that she was one trappy bitch and it would more than likely be the death of her one day, could today be it. 

‘Yeah, yeah I know, you’re on the whiteness protection act, and that gives you the fucking right to torment anyone you want, don’t it you fucking dirty snitch, well you picked on the wrong family this time bitch, now I’m warning you to shut the fuck up for the last time or I swear I’m gonna kill ya!’ 

The truth be known, Vicky had started to get a bit uninterested, and her own fists began to ache a little, but something in the pit of her stomach had told her that she had no choice but to keep going, she had gone past the point of no return, and couldn’t determine where that line was that she perhaps shouldn’t cross. 

She had deserved it anyway, and Vicky felt absolutely no remorse, when she had finally realized that the cunt was breathing no more, although, she did strike her one last time, partly to determine if she was just pretending to be brown bread, and because the sensation that she was experiencing was just too exhilarating for words. But there had been no more movement from her chest or anymore blood spittle from her mouthy trap to suggest life.

It was at that point that Vicky had heard the well appreciated warning sirens of at least two cop cars, and maybe an ambulance, she weren’t entirely sure, they all sounded the same to her, but she knew it would perhaps be a good time to exit the property pretty sharpish.  Sprinting from Alison’s front door, which was the nearest escape route, she clocked her son in their driveway, they nodded at each other and instinctively, he ran in the opposite direction of his mother. Simon had been raised by a lady who had already lived the lives of at least ten unfortunate women and had been educated by the best, he knew how to use his noddle, think on his feet, and always be one step ahead of the opponent.

After an hour or so they impulsively met at the home of  some acquaintances of sorts, Michelle and her husband Gary, he was on house arrest for a little indiscretion that he had had a month before with some tosser in his local, so Simon and Vicky were pretty confident that they would be at home. she got herself cleaned up and changed into some of Michelle’s clothes; before scooping up the blood stained items, including her hair scrunchy and trainers, which had also been saturated in the bitches claret and body matters, for Gary to take into the back garden and burn all incriminating evidence.

The following day; Vicky and Simon gave Michelle a list of the things that they would need from their home, including their passports, and a tin of savings adding up to just under eleven grand. They booked two tickets online and left on a midnight flight to Mexico. Vicky had recalled being told once by her family’s maid that the European authorities had no jurisdiction over there, so was confident that she and her son would be alright. Vicky didn’t give a shit about teaching that cunt a lesson, but was immensely pissed about losing everything that she had worked so bloody hard for, and seriously doubted she would ever be able to get back, but what choice did she have? No one hurts her son and gets away with it.

From the day that boy had been born, she had sworn she would protect him with her life, and that’s all she did, protected her son. Any mother would have done the same, wouldn’t they? When she had first laid eyes on her little dude, held him in her arms, she knew she loved him more than life itself. Vicky simply couldn’t breathe without him, even if it was just a quick call from him while he stayed over at a mate’s house for the night. She had to know that he was safe, happy and needing for nothing. Happiness was something that Vicky Sterling had never had the privilege of experiencing, and was under no illusions that she ever would. She was well aware that she was one miserable cunt at the best of times, but Simon brought a smile to her normally uncompromising face, and warmth inside that would melt her generally icy heart. Vicky had a purpose in life, and that was to do her best by the boy, guide him in the right directions, or more specifically, not in the directions that she had followed, educate him how to make smart choices, and understand right from wrong, as she knew it. 

‘You alright Gorgeous?’ she asked, walking over to kiss him on the top of his head. 

‘Yeah Ma, I’m alright.’ Simon smiled up at his mum; she couldn’t get enough of him, and although being a teenager, the over whelming love should have irritated him no end, but it didn’t, he was crazy about his ma, and had nothing but respect and admiration for the wonderful bitch that would do absolutely anything for him, anything. Everyone she met would tell her what an awesome lad he was, and well, yes, but she already knew that, and to be honest, she was told so often that it was beginning to get a tad boring. She had often wondered how she has raised such a great person; after all, she had done it all alone, financially and emotionally.

‘Love ya Darling.’ 

‘Love ya too.’ He replied, that time without taking his eyes off of his game. Vicky told him continuously because it was imperative that he knew, and under no circumstances, ever forgot. Vicky was never loved as a child, wasn’t even liked, so it was vital for her son to know how much he was, no matter what he ever did. 

So how did she get to this? A murderer, Well, you take one small baby, stir in a life of shit, and bake for thirty years until completely ruined!

Chapter 1

Vicky had been tossed away at birth by some selfish bitch of a mother who apparently couldn’t be arsed to fight for her, and there was never any doubt in her mind that the rejection was the reason for her troubled childhood and endless stream of bad moves. She’d had a brutal introduction into what life had in store for her, and exposed to the ugly truth that she was never wanted, by any fucker. Someone had tried to assure her how difficult it was for single parents in the eighties, and that there was little help from the government, but that story never washed with Vicky, how could any mother walk away from her own child? She would have beg, borrowed, stole or worked on her back if need be to keep her little dustbin lid. Carrying an overwhelming amount of resentment for a kid, made her unnaturally cynical from a ridiculously young age, allowing no one to get even remotely close. The constant knowledge of rejection had got in the way of her being any kind of normal, and it suited her just fine.

At just a few months old Vicky had been adopted into a large family of seven, by a couple and their three cock sucker sons and two stuck up daughters. Financially she had wanted for nothing, but emotionally had needed for everything. She desperately needed to have endless questions answered, to know if her biological parents were ever thinking of her, what they looked like, and would they ever come for her. Far too often for Vicky’s liking, she would have the un-intentional privilege of being reminded that she had been abandoned by her own flesh and blood. When at school she was told to draw a family tree or asked does anyone else in her family suffer with asthma, she didn’t bloody know, how could she for fucks sake, she just had a rent-a-family. Other children would naively ask her why she didn’t look anything like her siblings; ‘because I’m the chosen child’ she would answer. 

‘Err that’s horrible, you don’t even know who your mummy and daddy are.’ The little bastards would tease.   

‘Yes I do.’ Vicky would argue, after all, how could she have known the difference, how could she have known how it felt to live with a biological family, how could she?

That selfish abandonment was the reason it had been one hell of a balls up of a life, Vicky was convinced of this, and laid the blame squarely with every one of those cock suckers. Her mother would often tell her, ‘you’re your own worst enemy.’ Bullshit, it was because she had been severely shit on from the day she was born, and by everyone that she had the misfortune of coming in contact with ever since. Most of the wankers she had ever met had chosen to abuse, beat, insult her, and break her of any self-confidence and self-respect that she might possibly have had, given half the chance. She was comfortable with the knowledge that it was because of every one of them that she had ended up clinically deranged.

Why didn’t the bastards just let her die? She had been at deaths door as a baby, the doctors had held no hope for her, and predicted that her brutal case of jaundice would surely be the end of her tiny frail body. She endured endless operations, doctors had attempted to force the blood to keep flowing, and continue powering oxygen into her insignificant brain. Any normal human being would have given up at that point, but this was Vicky Sterling, and nothing was going to beat her, not then, not now, not ever. She was born to be a survivor and that was precisely what she was, but just how much was going to be the test, and how far could she be pushed before she did something completely sadistic even for her standards?

Vicky was blissfully aware that her parents and siblings found her an unnecessary annoyance, an intrusion on their lives, why would they want her if her own biological parents didn’t give a flying? Her mother had mentioned that she was ‘the chosen one’ but what the fuck had that supposed to mean? She had only been chosen because she had been recklessly discarded in the first place, like a puppy by the New Year. All of her siblings would ignore her, except for one, Michael, he was five years her senior, and by the time she reached six, he thought it was his god given right as an older brother, to abuse her. The sick little bastard would take every opportunity to make her take her panties off, and pull around viciously at her fanny. He would tell the mother that he was helping her on the toilet, or to get dressed, and although she would continually dispute his assistance, mother would yell at her to ‘stop being so silly, and let your brother help.’ She had tried once to tell her what was happening, but she was either not listening or chose not to believe her, she was a ‘lying little brat’ anyway, and for lying, she would undoubtedly get a good hiding.

Michael had entered her bedroom one morning, while she was quietly snipping away at the hair from her creepy, unrealistic Cindy dolls, when he ordered her to remove her panties, and if she didn’t do as he said, he would ‘kill her in her sleep.’ It was all too easy for Michael, he could get his end away whenever he wanted, because she would never rat on him, the little tramp would never dare, no one liked her anyway, she weren’t part of the family and should never have been brought into their home in the first place, what were his parents thinking. Vicky did as she was told and watched him pull down his shorts and action man pants to his knees.

‘Touch It.’ he demanded, as he violently rammed his fingers inside her. She was confused, didn’t understand why he wanted to do it, and her instincts told her that there was nothing right with the situation. Michael forced her to squeeze his cock, holding her little hand around it as he pulled at her crotch until she was sore, but Vicky wouldn’t grass, nor would she ever cry, she wasn’t built like that.

As they both grew; he thirteen and Vicky just nine, the abuse became increasingly worse, he was at an age where he could cum, and he wanted the feeling it gave him almost every day. He walked into her bedroom and shut the door as he normally would.

‘Get ‘em off!’ he ordered while he undid his flies, hastily pulling up her school skirt, and viciously pushing her over her bed, pinning her head down with his forearm so that she was unable scream out, not that she ever did. He was already stiff as he was growing into a man.

‘Open ya legs, ya little tart.’ He hissed at her as he played with himself before kicking her feet apart and pushing his cock inside. He pushed and rammed from behind, and after just a few movements, pulled out, zipping his trousers back up.

‘Keep ya mouth shut, or I’ll kill ya, you know the rules.’ He warned as he headed for the door, but he knew deep down that he would never have the balls to kill her, he was a coward and he knew it. Michael began to question if one day this could seriously backfire, she was one dark bitch, no one knew what she was ever thinking as she never spoke to any of them, and perhaps he was pushing his luck.

‘No! ya ain’t doing this to me anymore.’  

‘What are you gonna do about it, who do ya think they’ll believe, their son or a little slag who no one wants?’

Vicky didn’t have to think, she charged at him with an innovative rage, smashing his face with full force against the door frame, and as he held his split brow, she swiftly swung her foot up, kicking him squarely in the nuts. Michael instantly curled up in a pathetic heap in her doorway, held on to himself and groaned in pain. 

‘Now ya dirty bastard, do you wanna tell mum what you’ve been doing, or shall I? Now fucking do one!’ Vicky barked while giving him one last tasty boot to the ribs, rolling him out of her bedroom, and closing the door. That was the first time Vicky had properly fought back and it felt so good, she had a taste of violence and it had excited every part of her being, she wasn’t going to tolerate abuse from any dirty fucker ever again, of that she was sure. Michael never tried it on again, and nor did she dob on him, she was no snitch, she wouldn’t have been believed anyway, so what would have been the point.

As Vicky’s stolen childhood rapidly slipped from under her feet she entered a life of solitude, she was emotionally constipated, with not so much as a smile or a sense of ever fitting in, but that was okay, it suited her just fine that way, didn’t get close, and couldn’t get hurt, that was her motto. She constructed an undeviating wall around herself, which had been manufactured over a number of years, and without any intricate planning, it merely formed and became denser with age. She wasn’t stupid enough to give those bastards anymore reasons to beat her down, and although she was pounded on a daily basis and for no apparent or justified reason by her parents and siblings, she would never shed a tear; she frankly didn’t give a flying, she was a product of abandonment and betrayal, and had accepted it. She was beaten and thrashed until red raw on a daily basis, taking lashing after lashing, from belt buckles, leather soles, tennis rackets, or whatever they could place their vicious hands on, while they repeatedly struck her for no other reason than to make it crystal that she wasn’t wanted and under no circumstances would ever be a Sterling, but she refused to give them the satisfaction of crying, she was far too fearless, saw it as a sign of weakness, and well, she was emotionally numb anyway. When they eventually gave up, Vicky assured herself that she had won for not giving a toss, but the truth be known, she had most positively lost.

Vicky and her so called family sat at the large, teak, dining room table which seated twelve; it was six thirty, the customary time that the family was expected to gather, and the two maids busied their selves, ensuring that the Sterling family was all fed at the same time. Vicky quietly observed the two Latino maids as she often would, wondering how they must have felt knowing that those nasty cunts looked down on them as just ‘the help’, as she felt an all too familiar rush of comfort in imagining herself as one of their daughters and not one of the Sterling’s. It really didn’t matter how far up her siblings arse’s that silver spoon originated from the day that each of them were born, they would always be a bunch of useless tosser’s in Vicky’s eyes. Sat in silence, as usual, looking down at her plate while the family chatted among their selves, ‘fuck me sideways, how can there be so much snobbery in one room?’ she wondered. They really were one bunch of stuck up wankers, who evidently didn’t have a clue about the real world, the world where not everything is rosy, where people quite literally prayed each day that they would be able to provide for their family, where the children didn’t think twice about sharing scrapings of food with their loved ones, and didn’t give a shit what clothes were on their backs as long as they were warm. The penetrating hatred that she had for each and every one of them was so intense, she wondered how they couldn’t read her mind.

Whack!!!..........Without warning a hand full of jewellery came from nowhere, and caught her directly on the cartilage at the top of her ear, her cutlery instantaneously flew from her hands from the force of the blow and instinctively found the area. Oblivious to what she had done wrong that time, but knew she would soon be educated.

‘Hold your knife correctly, my god I’m sick of telling you child, why don’t you ever just do as you are told, in fact you’re offensive to look at, just get out of my sight, GO TO YOUR ROOM!’ her mother screamed into her face with every inch of detestation that she quite openly had for her, as her face reddened and spots of spittle sprayed from her mouth. Vicky promptly removed herself from the ‘family’ gathering and without any eye contact, to or from her siblings, left the dining room. It really didn’t bother her in the slightest; it was just the daily routine, and it always a relief to get the unprovoked beating out of the way, rather than waiting for the inevitable to happen. She frankly didn’t give a shit that her so-called mother didn’t like her, she didn’t like her either. ‘Don’t you need to go and stir your cauldron?’ she whispered under her breath as she left the room. But Vicky was spot on, her mother did find her an intrusion, she hadn’t wanted any more brats to look after, god, she already had five children of her own, that was her husband’s doing, why did he let the church talk him into adopting somebody else’s mistake, especially that kid, there was always something weird about her, she never spoke, refused to mix with her siblings and the girl had eyes which would find their way deep into the back of her mind, unnerving her no end. She had created a monster and she knew deep down that she was the only one to blame.

Completely fearless and devoid of any pain, Vicky would repeatedly have the shit kicked out of her, break a bone or two, be sliced and stitched up, and couldn’t feel a thing. She was entirely emotionless, like a robot you could say. If someone attempted to embrace her for any reason, she flinched, her body clenched and became instantly clammy, hairs stood up on the back of her neck and she experienced a feeling of what she believed was claustrophobia, a similar feeling to being put into a large dustbin bag, and then taped shut, fully restrained, and struggling for breath. People didn’t have to be any kind of pissing psychiatrists to realise that Vicky had a barrier guarding her, and they knew it was there to prevent her from getting anymore fucked up than she clearly already was.

Whoever said ‘you can choose your friends but you can’t choose your family’ didn’t think that one through!

Chapter 2

Being fourteen is a right crappy age for most girls, but this was Vicky’s life and at least ten times more shitty for her. She didn’t have a clue where she was going in life, shit, she didn’t even know where she had come from, except now she had made a friend, the first real mate she had ever had, Mandy, she made her feel a little better about herself and the two of them were as thick as thieves. Both had been forced to go to the same stuck up; all girls, catholic school, which they begrudgingly attended most days, unless one decided to skive, then they both bunked off together. Mandy was from Belfast, she was the same height as Vicky, had the same length, long, blond hair with a slight hint of ginger, and had a boat full of freckles. Vicky instantly felt a connection with her when she had walked into a classroom one day and watched as Mandy’s hands gripped securely into some girls hair while accurately and skilfully bringing her knee up to smash repeatedly into the girls face until the girl was begging for her to stop, that sight stirred something exciting in Vicky, but mostly it was the respect she had for the girl as she watched her casually walk away without even batting an eye or looking back at the snivelling mess she had left on the floor. Mandy had two brothers and two sisters, a loving mother and a bullying, alcoholic, douche-bag of a father who spent the family income support down the boozer, as soon as he could get his grubby mitts on it, ensuring his family were without the things that Vicky would normally have taken for granted, food, clothes, cash in her pocket, bog roll, carpet on the floors, or more specifically, previously took for granted, until she met Mandy’s family and friends.

It was a Friday afternoon; they had just finished school for the weekend and Vicky’s mother had allowed her to stay at Mandy’s home. Mandy had liked Vicky the first time they had sat together, there was something odd about her, different, she never spoke to anyone in the class, just sat and doodled in her books not giving a shit what the teacher was droning on about. Mandy just had to get to know her, she was intriguing and unlike any of the other uptight fanny’s in the school, who she also didn’t have any time for.

As they walked down Mandy’s street towards her home, which was at the end of a particularly dodgy looking council estate, Vicky couldn’t help but notice how it resembled a scene from a world war 2 movie, rusty abandoned car shells sat in people’s front gardens, broken dustbin bags laid in the street, dogs and cats with no collars chased each other, overgrown front gardens, broken fences that were in desperate need of repair and perhaps a lick of paint, and the people wandered around aimlessly, wearing dirty, torn, rags, broken shoes or trainers that were held on to their feet with pieces of string, but what stuck out the most was the sounds, it was a friendly sound, everyone chatting, and calling to each other across the street. It was an entirely new world to her; she had never experienced such disarray and poverty. Following Mandy down the street she noticed that people had stopped what they were doing and were quite explicitly staring at her, gobs open as if she was a queen or something.

‘Hey, who’s your posh friend Mandy?’ a scruffy, shirtless, man in his forties mumbled as he made his way over.    

‘This is me mate, Vicky.’ 

‘Nice to meet you, your highness.’ the man held out his mucky hand to shake, and offered a slight bow. ‘’I’m Dan the man.’’ He laughed. 

‘Well it’s very nice to meet you Dan the man.’ Vicky nodded politely, accepting his hand. 

‘So what are you doing here, at the dregs of the earth?’ 

‘I’m staying with Mandy for the weekend.’ 

‘Well, you have a lovely stay my Dear.’ 

‘Thanks, I’m sure I will.’

Continuing down the road, Vicky realized that more people were evidently intrigued, as they scuffled over to be introduced, until it finally sank in how she must have stood out, although she was in her school uniform, it was apparent that her clothes were immaculate; her patent shoes were un-mistakenly pricey, as was her jewellery and book bag. From the first introduction to Mandy’s neighbours, Vicky decided that she really liked those people. They were friendly and un-condescending, they seemed to be good honest people who had just been dealt the crappy hand in life, they didn’t try to be someone they weren’t, and didn’t disregard the rich, like the rich would undoubtedly disregard them, yes, she liked those people very much, and for the first time in her sorry existence, felt that she finally fitted in somewhere.

Reaching Mandy’s home, Vicky followed her in through the green paint chipped door, which had two numbers, 6 and 9, Vicky could tell that the 9 had slipped down or one of her brothers had found it amusing to position them that way, and it made her grin. Mandy’s mother, Pauline, a round jolly woman, who reminded her instantly of Mrs. Doubtfire, bounded up to her with a warm welcome, and a kiss on her cheek, wow! That knocked her for six; even her own mother had never kissed her, or if she had, not since she was a rug rat, and purposefully put the experience far in the back of her mind.

‘Now go and put your bags in your room Mandy and I’ll get ya dinner on.’ She told Mandy in her soothing Northern Irish accent, which rang musically in Vicky’s ears. 

‘I’ve brought a cake for everyone to share, I hope that’s okay.’ she said, offering her the large round tin. 

‘Oh, to be sure that is lovely, thank you so much Dear.’ She beamed.

‘You’re very welcome, thank you for having Me.’ Vicky replied as she shadowed Mandy up the carpet-less stair case.  Mandy’s mother instantly liked Vicky, she seemed like a polite young lady who would be a good influence on her little bundle of trouble, or so she thought. 

Vicky couldn’t help but notice that the house was in every way unlike hers. The cold air was apparent as she breathed out a steam of icy vapour; there were animal hairs covering the bare floor boards, dirty linen in large piles everywhere she looked, unmade beds, and not a trace of wallpaper on any of the walls. There were no toiletries or even a roll of Klingon collector, just a folded up newspaper on the back of the toilet which she presumed was for wiping.

Mandy showed Vicky her bedroom, and the bed she would be sharing with her, before trailing her back down the stairs to the living room, which comprised of an armchair she guessed was for the douche bag, an old grubby settee covered with three dogs, only a gas heater for warmth, a six seater table, and still no carpets or wallpaper. She then followed her through to the kitchen where her mother was slouched over the kitchen sink, peeling potatoes to make chip butty’s for everyone, her hands were bright red and severely cracked. Vicky could tell that wonderful woman knew what it was to work hard, to support her family and she instantly felt an unsettling pang of affection for her, despite that, Vicky felt comfortable from the moment she entered; that weren’t just a house, it was a home. 

‘Please let me do that.’ Vicky offered, not really having a clue how to use a potato peeler. 

‘Oh my Dear, now you just go and have fun, but thank you.’ Mandy’s mother giggled at Vicky with a warm, genuine smile. Vicky nodded and continued to follow Mandy out into her back garden. She could sense that her mate was a little quiet, and got a suspicious feeling that she was a little embarrassed of her home, yet so proud of her family, and of course, Vicky felt quite the opposite.

Sunday regrettably arrived; Vicky had had a truly wicked weekend and would have happily sold an organ if she could have prevented it from ending, she didn’t want to ever go back to that mind crushing tomb that her family called ‘home’ but she would always just refer to as a house. They had made her feel so welcome and although they didn’t have a pot of which to piss in, they shared what little they had.

After months of spending weekends at Mandy’s, her friend began to continually inquire as to why Vicky had never invited her to stay over at her house, and not only was it grating on her last nerve, she had run out of excuses, the truth was, she was the one who was embarrassed of her ostentatious fucking house; she knew without a shadow of a doubt that those stuck up wankers would treat her only friend like unwanted shit on their shoes, and look down at her in repulsion at her evident lack of wealth. Vicky would sooner spoon out her own eyeballs, slowly, than have Mandy see the stuck up, fucking house that she lived in, she was sure that Mandy would look at her in a whole different light, and in all probability feel that she wasn’t good enough to be her mate anymore, nope, she didn’t want to risk losing the one thing in her life that finally made any sense. 

‘Vicky, I don’t know why you won’t invite me to stay at yours, it don’t matta that your home is better than mine, I’ve already guessed that.’ Mandy looked at her with those fucking soppy eyes of hers, which irritated Vicky no end, she loved her mate no matter how hard she denied it to herself, and now she couldn’t say no. Oh bollocks. Mandy apparently didn’t have a clue how loaded her family was, but then again, she had hid it well; Mandy had always thought of her as one of them, which she was, but taking her to the cold dungeon could change things drastically. Shit, she would have to bite the proverbial lead eventually, and hope that nothing fucked up their friendship. 

‘Okay, stay this weekend but promise you won’t think any different of me.’ 

‘Vicky, you’re so funny, I don’t give a shite where you come from.’ Mandy chuckled. She really didn’t, she liked Vicky for her, they were like two twins in a womb and as far as Mandy was concerned, would always be mates. 

‘Okay, but I’m going to apologize for everything right now.’ Vicky really was sorry in advance and seriously regretted agreeing to it. 

The two girls, for the first Friday in months, caught the train to Vicky’s pad, and as they neared the un-necessarily long driveway which ran in front of the enormous eight bed-roomed house, with pompously manicured lawns, and pretentious statues, Vicky began to feel a little tom rising up from the pit of her belly. 

‘Feck off Vicky, where the hell are we?’ 

‘This is my house.’ her head hung low, chin almost on her chest as she continued, regrettably leading the way. She hoped that Mandy would change her mind and offer for her to stay at her home.  Please, Mandy, for fucks sake say something.

‘Feck me, I’m not going to go in there, sure I’m not, why didn’t you tell me you’re this fucking posh?’ Mandy said breathlessly, looking up at the mansion in front of her, and the huge, daunting, wooden door, with a large brass lion head knocker, of which she would eventually have to enter. Mandy weren’t no pussy but this place just didn’t feel natural, she was well out of her comfort zone. 

‘HAY! I’m not posh Mandy, I’m me, ya know that, I said I apologize, and I do, look, we can go to yours if ya want but we’re here now and you’re with me, okay?’ she attempted to sound confident but she too was shitting a large one. 

‘I just don’t get why you always wanna stay at mine when you live in this pissing palace.’ 

‘You’ll soon see.’ Vicky pushed open the large door and called out to the mother. 

‘Hi, we’re home.’ her mother immediately appeared from nowhere and introduced herself in the usual snotty tone that she had perfected over the years, or since the day she met the man who rescued her from the dregs of London. She had come from poverty and seemed to have forgotten who and what she really was.      

‘Hello, I’m Victoria’s mother, and you are Amanda I presume.’ She pronounced as she studied her friend up and down with noticeable disapproval, where does she fucking get off? Vicky wondered. 

‘Yes.’ Mandy replied nervously offering ‘the mother’ her hand. 

‘Well it’s nice to meet you, now Victoria take your friend into the kitchen and have the staff make you both some cake.’ her mother ordered, without responding to Mandy’s hand, and taking one last bitchy glance at her friend. Vicky’s mum didn’t like the look of this scraggy little tramp one bit, Victoria should know better than to mix with the likes of her.

Mandy soon lost her nerves and lavished in the luxuries that the house had to offer, thick carpet, central heating, pretentious food, even, arse wipe, and Vicky  didn’t mind admitting that she enjoyed watching her best mate eventually loosen up. Mandy slept in her bed, so that she could have a bed to herself for the first time in her life, and Vicky slept on her chaise lounge.

The following morning the girls woke, got washed and dressed in Vicky’s en-suite, and headed down to the large dining room where the traditional, and unnecessarily, large feast of breakfast choices were available, which severely gave Vicky the right bums rush each and every morning seeing such a colossal waste of food when kids were starving all over the world.

‘Wanna go into town Mand?’ 

‘Sure, then maybe we can get a burger or something lata at Macky D’s.’ Mandy smiled unconvincingly. Vicky could tell that Mandy wanted to continue playing the imaginary princess for a little longer, but then again, she knew that would happen; she would want to stay over hers every weekend from then on, why wouldn’t she? She had a large, clean bed to herself, was not being yelled at by her old man every ten minutes to get down stairs and make him a cup of tea, she was warm, and was eating for the whole of bloody Europe. 

Mandy and Vicky wandered around the shops down the Tottenham high road, and Vicky treated her partner in crime to a few things from Boots. They then headed to Mac Donald’s, sitting down opposite each other, with their food.

‘Vick.’ Mandy looked anxiously at her, and she didn’t like where this was headed, she had never needed to be nervous with her, they’d always just fitted together, like a wound and bandage, what the fucks her problem?     

‘Yeeees?’ Vicky reluctantly replied avoiding any eye contact like a brass avoids Chlamydia.    

‘Well, it’s just that I would never wanna be you, you ain’t needing all that money and posh digs, you just need a little love and respect, which ya don’t need to be a genius to see ya don’t get. You must be so lonely Vick in that big house, now I get why you love to stay at ours at weekends. To be sure, I would sooner be hungry, like we are sometimes, than live your lonely existence. You stay with us from now on.’ She smiled sympathetically.

WHAM!!! That slapped Vicky across the chops like a wet towel, Vicky had always been openly subjected to fact that she was an intrusion on the Sterling’s lives, but being told just hit the nail smack on the head. ‘Oh, bollocks to that, she didn’t give a flying shit about those people anyway, and at least Mandy wouldn’t be asking to stay over again’, Vicky decided.

‘Hay, let’s go to the gadget shop and look at the game consoles when we’ve finished these.’ Vicky suggested, swiftly changing the subject before it got soppy. Vicky didn’t do soppy. 

‘Okay.’ Mandy agreed, realizing she might have pushed her luck by mentioning what she had.

They moseyed around the store, testing out the games consoles, both wishing they could have one, but despite her parents having endless pots of money, Vicky would never be fucking stupid enough to ask for one for her Birthday or Christmas, oh no, ‘that would be an extravagance, and there are better things to do with her time’ and the speech would continue for a good twenty minutes until ‘the mother’ ran out of hot air.

‘Come on Vick, let’s get outta ‘ere.’ Mandy suggested a bit too sharpish for Vicky’s liking, but she followed her nevertheless, through the large store, and just as far as outside the electronic, glass, sliding doors. 

‘You’re both coming with us.’ Vicky looked up, Mandy and she were both having their collars felt, wrists held up behind their backs, and she knew instantly that there weren’t a hope in hell of them being able to escape those hefty plain clothed, security guards, despite the struggle they both put up, their restraints were too tight. She didn’t have a clue what Mandy had half inched, but she knew it had to be something. They were dragged reluctantly and shamefully back through the busy store, put into a small lift, and taken up into a room where an irritated man was sat behind his large, chaotic, desk. 

‘Alright, ladies, now empty all of your pockets on the desk here please.’ The man ordered with narrowed eyes, and an unnecessarily exaggerated sigh that pissed Vicky off no end. Vicky did as she was told and Mandy followed suit. Vicky only had her purse, fags and a lighter in her pockets, but Mandy proceeded to pull out from the lining of inside her old coat a box-less games console.  

‘You’re fucking kidding me?’ Before she knew it, and unable to recall ever hearing that sound before, Vicky began to chuckle, a sound which found its way up from the very pit of her stomach. ‘How the fuck did ya manage to sneak that in there?’ 

‘SO YOU THINK THIS IS AMUSING YOUNG LADY?’ the man bellowed, his head getting a shade redder, Vicky could see his scalp showing through his very thinning, grey hair, and that set her off some more.    

‘Oh, come on, how can you not see the funny side, it’s nearly as big as her.’ Vicky knew she wouldn’t be able to stop laughing, tears streamed down her cheeks and although Mandy was trying her best to look remorseful, she failed miserably, and began to laugh as well. Both bent over themselves, with legs crossed tightly in the hope that they wouldn’t lose control of their bladders.

‘Right, well, we will see what the police have to say about this, they’re on their way.’ Vicky presumed that she should perhaps be crapping herself, but it didn’t bother her in the slightest. What could the filth do that her mother hadn’t already done? Mandy was still laughing but Vicky could tell that her mate was beginning to fret a little, so winked at her reassuringly. Two coppers arrived just a few minutes later, got the run down from the floor manager, and the girls wrists were cuffed securely behind their backs, Vicky couldn’t give a crap, as the filth walked them back through the busy store, nothing bothered her, especially authority figures, even though, gun to head, she would have to admit that it was slightly humiliating, but she’d get over it. The pigs rolled them both into the back of a cherry topper and they were given a very silent, complimentary ride to the station. 

‘Mand.’ Vicky whispered. ‘’Don’t stress mate, I’ll tell the pigs it was Me.’’ she nodded reassuringly.    

‘Why would you do that Vick?’ 

‘Look, I know what your dad’s like, if he hears about this he’ll smash the shit out of ya, again.’ 

‘And what about your mother?’ 

‘What? I get the shit kicked out of me on a daily basis, at least this time she’ll have a good reason. Nope, Mand, listen to me, we’ll just say I did it, okay? I bet they can’t tell the difference between us anyway.’ 

‘Are ya sure?’ 

‘Absofuckinglutely.’ 

‘I love ya Vick.’ Mandy leant her head over to rest on her shoulder.    

‘Hay, fuck off with that soppy crap or I’ll change me mind.’

Fortunately for them, the useless tossers couldn’t decipher which one of the girls took the console as they were the same height, with very similar blond hair. The only differences were Mandy’s freckles across her nose, and of course a slight, remaining, northern Irish accent. The fuzz questioned them in separate interrogation rooms, and the plan was going perfectly, as far as they were aware. 

After five tedious hours; Mandy’s mum arrived to sign release forms to take her home. She wandered over to Vicky, but Vicky wouldn’t look at her, she didn’t want Mandy’s mum to have any bad feelings towards her, but without warning, she wrapped her loving, maternal arms around the girl.

‘Everything’s going to be alright dear, sure it is.’ An extremely small part of Vicky wished that she could stay there just a little longer, but she didn’t understand why. Vicky realized that Mandy’s mother knew it was her own daughter who thieved the console, and that was her way of saying thank you. Mrs. O’Connell also knew that Mandy’s father with his vicious, drunken temper, would unremittingly pound her to an inch of her life, and it devastated Pauline each and every time that he did. The low life bastard would order her to stand back and watch, as she pleaded with him for her to take the beating instead of her daughter. 

‘I’m looking for my daughter, I understand that she has been detained here, Victoria Sterling, please do not think for one moment that this is any reflection on my husband and I.’ Vicky rolled her eyes as close to the back of her head as they would go, letting out a huge sigh. 

‘I am missus Sterling, and this is my husband, whom is a barrister. I trust we can get this matter resolved and kept completely confidential.’ Vicky listened to her carry on; shit me, if she could only hear herself. 

Eventually Vicky was sent home with notice of a future court hearing, evidently thieving a games console worth almost two hundred quid was a crime.

‘Do you realize how much embarrassment you have caused the family young lady? You are to have no more to do with that girl. I knew she was trouble the moment you brought her into our home. We do not mix with the likes of them, do you understand?’’ Vicky’s father could never comprehend why his daughter would choose someone like that to be friends with, why couldn’t she just be more like her brothers and sisters? 

‘But I was the one who ‘alf inched it Dad.’ she defended dishonestly. 

‘Victoria, this is her doing, you stay away from her, and stop talking like trailer trash, that is not how your mother and I have raised you.’’ Vicky knew when to shut the fuck up, and that would be a particularly good time; she would make herself scarce, as usual... to avoid the endless bitching, and being repeatedly reminded that ‘we’ now have to go to court, oh, the humiliation. 

Vicky wasn’t born yesterday and knew that Mandy would never be accepted by those cock suckers, the first opportunity that her parents were given to come in-between their friendship, they did, or would they? Err No, They can just go and swivel as far as he was concerned; the first real, honest thing that had come into her life was not going to be taken away from her. Did they honestly believe the shit that poured so freely out of their naive mouths? They attended church each and every Sunday without fail, yet wouldn’t lower their selves, or allow their children to befriend anyone with tattoos, the wrong colour skin, or people who were not as financially fortunate. They openly refused to give people a chance, and because of this, it made things impossible for Vicky to ever have any kind of relationship with them, as long as she had a hole in her arse, she would never be one of them, never. 

The day of the court hearing; and Vicky wasn’t intimidated by any of what was going down, was she supposed to be? Well screw that, the word intimidation had never been in Vicky’s vocabulary and weren’t about to be in it now. Her parents had been fucking relentlessly, rattling on for days, attempting to instruct her of what would happen in court, and what she was expected to do and say, but what did they know, this was her hearing, not theirs. Her father was not allowed to represent her, something to do with the fact that she was family; well that she would seriously have to beg to differ. 

After a good two hours, she was ordered into the court room; she had to estimate the time, as her mother had made her remove all of her tom before the hearing, ‘It makes you look common,’ she had said. The first thing which hit her as she entered, was the stench, wood polish, it reminded her a little too much of their house. She then clocked the heads of her sweet, loving parents, twisted, and scowling at her with the all too familiar warning look, which hadn’t washed with her for years, had they really not worked that out yet? They were sitting in the second tier, of eight highly polished rows of benches, and Vicky was ordered to sit next to her brief in front of them. At least she didn’t have to see the radiating eye fucks, feeling them in the back of her head was enough for her. The judge tapped his gavel to silence the small