a heart. I’m really hurting right now…”
“I’ll give you hurting, you stupid fucking slut.”
One meaty hand was a dead weight on her collarbone and the other slapped her across the face. Normally it wouldn’t bother her, but her muggers had already hit her there and the inside of her mouth was bleeding where a tooth had cut her cheek.
She whimpered and clutched her throbbing face.
“Leave me alone Wayne, I mean it.”
Wayne’s face was red and his eyes bulged. She could see the way the thick, body builder veins in his neck were protruding and she quivered beneath him. That meant he was really mad. Not for the first time she wondered why she was still with him.
Because you’re too scared to be alone and you’ll never get anyone else. Ever.
“Stupid whore,” he said, sitting up and edging away from her slightly.
She breathed a sigh of relief. The threat of violence had passed. For now.
“I’m sorry baby, I’ll get another job right away, I promise. How do you know anyway?”
“Because you’re boss called and said you could forget about getting paid for last week.”
Oh my God, the complete fucking bastard, she thought angrily.
“I’m really sorry, Wayne. He was just such a bastard and I couldn’t stand it no longer.”
“We got rent to pay, you’re gonna have to get your sorry ass another job today or you’re gonna have to go out and whore yourself.”
Pam knew he wasn’t joking. She had never actually done it, she’d always managed to talk him round by telling him that he might catch some fatal STD if she did it. That had seemed to work. So far.
“I’ve still got the other cleaning gigs, and the care work, and the weekend factory job, it’s not like I’ve lost everything, and I’ll replace the job I lost today.”
“You’d better.”
Maybe you should get a fucking job, came the unbidden thought.
Immediately she felt guilty. She loved Wayne. She was lucky to have him. Women that looked like her never got guys that looked like Wayne. When he wasn’t drinking or taking drugs he worked out. And how. His midriff was maybe a little puddingy from all that beer, but he was sculpted and completely out her league in the looks department. He had that shaved heard, Bruce Willis thing going on, except Wayne was a whole lot bigger and meaner looking.
He reminded her of this every day, that she was lucky to have him. That’s when she wasn’t working or he was beating on her.
I love him, she reminded herself. If you love him so much then why do you have to remind yourself that you do?
She shrugged off the dark thoughts. It must just be because she was tired and hurting.
“Why’d you get mugged anyway? You ain’t exactly Paris Hilton, are you?”
Pam shrugged. How the hell could she possibly even begin to explain?
Oh well, you know, I meet this Jeanie in a bottle, and he offered me ten grand if I drank out of a dirty toilet. Some thugs saw the money fall out of my bra at the bus stop and I got mugged…
“Just unlucky I guess.”
Wayne got up and crossed the short distance to the fridge to retrieve a can of lager.
“You need to get yourself cleaned up. You’ve got to go to work in a few hours.”
Pam had another cleaning job this afternoon and she mentally groaned at the thought of it. She took her weary body into the mould ridden bathroom and set about the arduous task of cleaning herself up.
Work passed without incident. Another four hours of mind numbing, soul destroying crap, cleaning up other people’s shit. When she got home on the bus, weighed down by a shop in Tesco, Wayne was laid out on the sofa snoozing.
“Hey. What’s for dinner?” he asked through half closed eyes.
Pam dumped the bags of shopping in the kitchenette and proceeded to stab holes in the microwavable lasagne.
“Lasagne,” she said, casting her eye around the shambolic, filthy flat on the fifteenth floor of a tower block situated in Bethnal Green. Empty tinnies surrounded Wayne, along
“I’ll give you hurting, you stupid fucking slut.”
One meaty hand was a dead weight on her collarbone and the other slapped her across the face. Normally it wouldn’t bother her, but her muggers had already hit her there and the inside of her mouth was bleeding where a tooth had cut her cheek.
She whimpered and clutched her throbbing face.
“Leave me alone Wayne, I mean it.”
Wayne’s face was red and his eyes bulged. She could see the way the thick, body builder veins in his neck were protruding and she quivered beneath him. That meant he was really mad. Not for the first time she wondered why she was still with him.
Because you’re too scared to be alone and you’ll never get anyone else. Ever.
“Stupid whore,” he said, sitting up and edging away from her slightly.
She breathed a sigh of relief. The threat of violence had passed. For now.
“I’m sorry baby, I’ll get another job right away, I promise. How do you know anyway?”
“Because you’re boss called and said you could forget about getting paid for last week.”
Oh my God, the complete fucking bastard, she thought angrily.
“I’m really sorry, Wayne. He was just such a bastard and I couldn’t stand it no longer.”
“We got rent to pay, you’re gonna have to get your sorry ass another job today or you’re gonna have to go out and whore yourself.”
Pam knew he wasn’t joking. She had never actually done it, she’d always managed to talk him round by telling him that he might catch some fatal STD if she did it. That had seemed to work. So far.
“I’ve still got the other cleaning gigs, and the care work, and the weekend factory job, it’s not like I’ve lost everything, and I’ll replace the job I lost today.”
“You’d better.”
Maybe you should get a fucking job, came the unbidden thought.
Immediately she felt guilty. She loved Wayne. She was lucky to have him. Women that looked like her never got guys that looked like Wayne. When he wasn’t drinking or taking drugs he worked out. And how. His midriff was maybe a little puddingy from all that beer, but he was sculpted and completely out her league in the looks department. He had that shaved heard, Bruce Willis thing going on, except Wayne was a whole lot bigger and meaner looking.
He reminded her of this every day, that she was lucky to have him. That’s when she wasn’t working or he was beating on her.
I love him, she reminded herself. If you love him so much then why do you have to remind yourself that you do?
She shrugged off the dark thoughts. It must just be because she was tired and hurting.
“Why’d you get mugged anyway? You ain’t exactly Paris Hilton, are you?”
Pam shrugged. How the hell could she possibly even begin to explain?
Oh well, you know, I meet this Jeanie in a bottle, and he offered me ten grand if I drank out of a dirty toilet. Some thugs saw the money fall out of my bra at the bus stop and I got mugged…
“Just unlucky I guess.”
Wayne got up and crossed the short distance to the fridge to retrieve a can of lager.
“You need to get yourself cleaned up. You’ve got to go to work in a few hours.”
Pam had another cleaning job this afternoon and she mentally groaned at the thought of it. She took her weary body into the mould ridden bathroom and set about the arduous task of cleaning herself up.
Work passed without incident. Another four hours of mind numbing, soul destroying crap, cleaning up other people’s shit. When she got home on the bus, weighed down by a shop in Tesco, Wayne was laid out on the sofa snoozing.
“Hey. What’s for dinner?” he asked through half closed eyes.
Pam dumped the bags of shopping in the kitchenette and proceeded to stab holes in the microwavable lasagne.
“Lasagne,” she said, casting her eye around the shambolic, filthy flat on the fifteenth floor of a tower block situated in Bethnal Green. Empty tinnies surrounded Wayne, along
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