The week went from bad to worse when on Thursday I discovered that the NMR machine had been miscalibrated for at least the last three weeks, ruining all of my data. I stayed in the lab pretty late that night, trying to get a head start on repreparing my hundreds of samples. It was well and truly dark outside by the time I began the walk to Melbourne Central to catch the train; darker still with the heavy clouds that obscured the moon. Luckily Melbourne Central was pretty much deserted at this hour. I’d been practising crowd surfing there every afternoon for the past few weeks but it was still challenging and I was not in the mood to be tested tonight. The train was mostly empty too; though apparently not empty enough for the couple who decided to sit right across from me in the carriage.
They looked vaguely familiar and I wondered if I’d seen them around the uni or something. His head was shaved but his stubbly chin made up for the lack of hair. I assumed he was one of those prematurely balding guys who’d rather look hardcore than admit they were aging. Her hair was an unnatural shade of brown, cut into choppy layers. The ratty ends fell around her shoulders. They looked like they’d been out clubbing or something, and their clumsy affectations and vacant thoughts indicated they were drunk.
They began making out and I tried to avert my eyes – and mind – watching the rivulets of rain on the carriage windows and turning up the music playing through my headphones. Feelings of desire leached into my psyche and I tried to fight the revulsion. It wasn’t far to go now; only three stops to West Footscray, then I could escape into the cold night and let the rain wash my soul clean. A feeling of déjà vu began to mount as my eyes kept coming back to them. Where had I seen them before?!
The train left Middle Footscray station and I delighted that it was finally time to go and stand by the door – the nightmare was over at last – but before I could leave my seat, it all came rushing back. I had been here before. It was a nightmare.
I’d dreamed this.
I stayed where I was, suddenly unable to draw any attention to myself, fixated more than ever on the couple in front of me. Surely, this couldn’t be happening. I tried to remember what had happened next in the dream… He’d felt her up and she’d stopped him.
I watched it happen in real time as his hand slid up her skirt and she pulled away in annoyance. If my face showed the horror I felt, they didn’t notice. He only had one thing on his mind tonight and she was too drunk to care about me; she was barely keeping off his advances.
They exited the train at Tottenham station, just as before and I knew I had to see this whole thing play out. I needed to see if it would end the same way as before. I followed them into the yellow glow of the station lights, pulling my hood up against the rain and chill. I kept my distance both for the sake of them and the security cameras at every station. If this ended the way I’d foreseen I didn’t want to be linked to it in any way.
They clumsily made their way down a side street, turning into an alleyway as I’d predicted. I hurried to catch up now, knowing with certainty what came next. I wondered if I could change it or if the dream was a future set in stone. I peered around the corner to see her leaning against a wall, ready to throw up; his hands groping at her. In her position I would feel just as nauseous; even now my stomach was rolling, whether through my empathy link or the fear that I’d somehow become clairvoyant. But I couldn’t think about that now, in a moment she’d throw up on him and he’d strike her, knocking her unconscious – or worse.
I had to do something… but what? I could take his mind but he didn’t really deserve to be murdered, did he? Urgh. I suddenly hated myself for growing a conscience and learning to see in shades of grey. This was no time for a lack of conviction.
“Hey!”
Before I knew what I was doing I’d stepped out into the alleyway, drawing his attention. Just in time too. She threw up on the ground, splashing only her own shoes. It took my brain a moment to process the fact that I’d just changed the outcome of the dream.
He was unconcerned by the girl’s retching. All he felt was anger for the kid who’d “cock-blocked” him, and – he now decided – had been “checking out his woman” since back on the train. She moaned softly, apparently ready to vomit again.
“Don’t worry baby, I got this.” He said; misinterpreting everything like the imbecile he was.
He approached me, puffing himself up like a bird, trying to look intimidating despite his awkward, drink-addled gait.
I suddenly realised I had no idea what to do next. I’d stopped him from hitting her, but now what? If I left them alone he’d surely take advantage of her inability to say “no” and I doubted he’d help her get home safely. Wait, was I going to help her get home safely? I began to regret getting involved at all… But had I not been led to this very place by some sort of premonition? I balked again at the incredible circumstances of the evening but I couldn’t shake the feeling like I was meant to do something here tonight. Surely there was a reason it had come to me.
“What the fuck do you want?” He challenged me, getting close enough that I could smell the alcohol on him.
I refused to step back, however. I wouldn’t let him think he intimidated me. I stared up at him, showing no sign of concern, but the itching discomfort of his proximity was clawing at my viscera.
“Leave her alone.” I said, trying to channel Rhiann’s calm authority.
If he was here he’d know how to diffuse the situation. Of course! That’s what I needed to do, diffuse the situation.
“Leave her alone.” I said again, this time in his head and for a moment his aggressive stare faltered.
I’d chosen my words poorly however, because by this point she wasn’t the one who needed saving; I was.
“Get the fuck out of here, faggot.” He slurred, shoving me backwards.
Despite the fact I’d literally seen it coming; I only just managed to keep my footing. My reflexes weren’t quite functioning yet.
I regained composure and once again matched his confident posture. He thought himself rather intimidating and had expected me to run away. The fact that I was still standing here challenging him only enraged him.
“I said ‘fuck off’!”
He took a swing at me this time but I was not going to be caught off guard again. I watched the planned strike in his minds-eye and although his body failed to perform exactly as he’d imagined, it was enough of a warning for me to step out of the way in time.
It was his turn to lose his balance and stumble, but he caught himself quickly; a seasoned drinker like him could down a fair few without becoming entirely incapacitated. He came back again with a vengeance. He rushed at me. I tried to dodge again but there was no forewarning; he was running on pure impulse now. He shoved me into the wall of the alleyway and my head banged painfully into the bricks. Spots of light danced in my vision and for a moment I lost sight of what I was doing in the alley. Why had I come here?
He pinned me there, elbow digging into my shoulder, arm across my throat and I was suddenly 13 again.
“Leave her alone.” I try to shout and my voice cracks.
I’ve never stood up to the man before, but I suppose that’s what hormones will do to a kid. I’m full of fury where there was once only cowardice and resignation.
Mum brought home the wrong kind of weed killer and he’s yelling at her. He’s calling her “stupid” and “useless” – this minor misdemeanour doesn’t warrant the harsher insults – but he’s still threatening to hit her… Otherwise she’ll never learn.
“Leave her alone!” I yell and this time he hears.
Suddenly his full attention is on me and he backs me into a corner. My testosterone-fuelled anger is supplanted by the usual fear and I instantly regret having said anything. I’ve never stood up to him before and he is not happy about it. He wants to “teach me a lesson”. He’s determined to make sure I never challenge his authority again.
He presses me against the kitchen cupboard, a heavy arm crushing my throat. I turn my head, looking away – an instinctual act of submission – but I can feel his cruel, grey eyes piercing me. I see myself in his thoughts; weak and fragile.
I’m overcome with shame and regret. I am nothing. I am worse than nothing. I am an inconvenience to everyone around me. I deserve this. If he kills me now the world will be better off. I was stupid to try to help. I should have kept my mouth shut. What could I possibly have done? I am useless. I am nothing.
Mum ignores us. She’s cleaning up the scattered groceries and punishing herself for making such a stupid mistake. She knows what’s going on but can’t bring herself to acknowledge it. She won’t stop him from doing whatever he wants to do. She doesn’t care what he does to me. And why should she? I deserve this ending.
My lip quivers. A tear runs down my cheek. I hope that he’ll make it quick.
I feel the rush of his satisfaction. He has got what he wanted. He has reminded me that I am nothing more than a scared, little boy. He has reminded me that he is the one in control of this household. He has won.
He releases me and I drop to the floor… disappointed. He slams the front door as he leaves for the pub.
My mother refuses to look in my direction and I’m thankful; I don’t want to see the pathetic child left weeping in a pile on the floor.
Even death is too good for me.
I could smell the alcohol on his disgusting breath as he talked at me.
“Whatcha gonna do now, faggot? … Eh? … Thought you could just stalk me and my woman?…”
I struggled to break free and instantly regretted it. He laughed raucously at my feeble attempt. In a moment of weakness I began to panic. I felt pathetic again. I wished I could disappear.
“… You can’t have her; she’s mine…”
He was too close to me. The pressure of his arm against my neck was making me want to peel out of my skin. I had to get out of there.
I grabbed his mind and sent a wave of claustrophobia. He reeled back in sheer revulsion – the way I wanted to do – and I was freed.
I could have run, but I didn’t. I hated this man. I hated him as if he were personally responsible for my childhood. He was a chauvinist. He was a selfish and violent drunk. He was a blight upon society and would only cause more suffering if I let him go. He needed to be stopped. This is why I was sent here tonight.
He was still recoiling and the discomfort still saturated his thoughts as I pierced deep into his psyche. I hadn’t taken a mind in over six months and never one as solid as his but it wasn’t hard to pick up again. It came back to me like second nature and I began to realise I’d missed the rush it gave me. The memories took longer to shred than usual though, and he doubled over in pain, groaning and grabbing at his skull. I didn’t stop.
Finally he fell to the wet gravel – not a trace of consciousness left to destroy or even hold on to – and I came back to myself. The rain had soaked through my clothes and I was shaking… But not from the cold. My heart pounded and my blood rushed in my ears. I had an excess of energy that forced its way out in little muscle spasms, hand twitches, heavy breathing… I was euphoric. The power was intoxicating, and the stresses of my week just faded away. I was invincible.
I stood over the girl, passed out next to a puddle of vomit. How classy.
“Now… What the hell am I going to do with you?” I wondered.
I couldn’t exactly drag her home; I didn’t know where she lived and doubted I’d be able to move her. I certainly didn’t want to carry her to wherever she was headed. Urgh, I was so angry at her. Who goes out without a plan to get home, gets so drunk they leave themselves open to attack from random guys, and then passes out in an alleyway in the rain? I wanted to leave her there. I wanted to just walk away – as I probably should have done in the first place… She almost deserved it – but that wasn’t why I’d been sent here. This was now my situation and I had to take responsibility for it. Besides, this night didn’t really need another casualty.
With a sigh I pulled my sleeves down over my hands and rolled her onto her side so she wouldn’t choke if she vomited again. Then I found her phone in her purse and called anonymously for an ambulance. I hoped they wouldn’t arrive too soon. I wanted to be far, far away from here when they discovered the corpse.
Chapter 32
Small Tyrants 