I couldn't. What would my dad think, and what if she had a family? I turned to get out then saw a blank, dirty wall, and the thought struck me: my dad wouldn't like it but so what? He's dead. If she had a family then I didn't know them. It didn't matter. Nothing did. Fuck 'em. I pulled the trigger and turned her pillows red. She slumped sideways, one lifeless hand thrown up against the wall. The sound echoed. Everything but my heartbeat was still. Then I ran. Outside, I pressed my back against the wall. Vomit rose in my throat. I wanted, needed, to hide. But… I had a feeling inside like I'd taken two grams all at once and I couldn't escape the touch and I didn't want to because this time there were no side-effects. The next night, Frank paid me and I now had the money to get the headstone, but it wasn't enough. It's never enough. Now I wanted a bigger headstone, maybe some flowers. I could pay my rent. I swore to myself that I wouldn't blow it on coke.'Do you want another job?' Frank whispered. We were sat in that same booth in the bar. The barman brought us both drinks. He could linger and look at us both all he wanted but I waited until he'd gone to answer.'Yeah,' I said. The money was heavy in my trembling hand. Ссылки могут видеть только зарегистрированные пользователи. Зарегистрируйтесь или авторизуйтесь для просмотра ссылок! Frank loomed forward, like a shadow in the darkening room. His breath, hot on my face, smelt like rotten meat.'Same fee?' I said before he could speak.'Same fee.' He showed his teeth in what was almost a smile. A black outline fell over him as the redhead stepped up. 'What you doing these days, Frankie?' she said. She had the grating voice of an addict. I would know.
