A Room Full of Killers - Michael Wood (motivational books to read txt) 📗

more than annoying, it’s irritating. It’s a fucking pointless story, and I hate it.

Mum took her role of mother far too seriously. She refused to let me out of her sight. I wasn’t allowed to play out, in case I fell and hurt myself. I wasn’t allowed to climb trees, in case I fell out and cracked my skull open. I wasn’t allowed to the shops on my own, in case I was knocked down by a car and killed. Dad wasn’t allowed to take me to a football match, in case I was kidnapped. I lived in a bubble.

Every summer we went on holiday for two weeks to the same place – Blackpool. Have you ever spent two full weeks in Blackpool? Fuck me, it’s boring! Have you ever spent two full weeks in Blackpool living in a tin-can caravan with your parents every single year since you were born? It’s torture! I’m fifteen – why do I want to go to Blackpool? Why do I want to go on holiday with my mum and dad? Why do I want to spend two weeks in a shitty caravan the size of a public toilet? I tell you, torture.

This year was different. Actually, no, it wasn’t. It was exactly the same, only this time I met someone, someone fun. Liam.

Mum and Dad allowed me some freedom for the first time. I was allowed in the arcade in the caravan park but I couldn’t go off-site without their permission. I looked up from the slots to see this guy looking at me. That was Liam, and he looked just as bored as I was. I smiled. He smiled. I went for a drink, so did he. We got chatting. He was on holiday too, with his nan and granddad, but they spent all day playing bingo so he was allowed to do whatever he wanted – lucky sod.

Liam asked if I wanted to go down to the beach. I didn’t even think of asking Mum and Dad. I just went. We had some chips and swapped stories. He was from Carlisle. His Mum and Dad were working all summer so his grandparents were looking after him. As a special treat, they’d brought him to Blackpool for the week – some treat!

We went to the top of the Tower and spent a good half hour looking at the view. Then Liam invited me back to his caravan and we drank a few cans of lager. Can you believe that was my first taste of alcohol? I tried vodka too but I didn’t like it, and I wouldn’t even try the whisky – the smell alone was too much. I decided to stick to lager and I had a few cans, followed by a few more. It wasn’t long until we were both seriously pissed. I’ll always remember that day as being one of the best ever. Liam was everything I wanted to be – fun, free, happy, good-looking.

It was after midnight when I got back to my caravan. It was a cool night and the breeze seemed to sober me up a little. Mum and Dad were still up, obviously, and they were both angry. At first Mum was thrilled I was safe, until she smelled the lager on my breath. They both kicked off, saying how I’d disappointed them and let them down. I heard the story of how I was a miracle birth again. I always had that thrown in my face. Dad sat calmly while Mum ranted. She said we were going back home first thing in the morning. I said no as I’d arranged to go out with Liam. I refused to leave. I was having fun for the first time in my life. Dad told me off for cheeking my mum, and he sent me to bed. Well, it was the table turned into a bed. Not the same thing.

I can’t actually remember what happened next. One minute I was lying in bed, the next I was turning on the gas canisters for the stove. I didn’t think of the consequences until afterwards but I’m not sorry. They were suffocating me. For how long did they think I was going to put up with being their prisoner?

I stood well back from the caravan as I struck the match. The wind blew out the first few; the fifth one went straight through the window. The curtains caught fire so I ran, knowing this would be it. I hid behind another caravan a few rows back and watched as the flames took hold. Suddenly, bang, the caravan was torn apart and a massive fire ball flew into the air. It was well impressive. The baked-bean-tin caravan just disintegrated.

Now I’m free of them. I can do whatever I want without having to answer to anyone. I’m so relieved, like a weight has been lifted from me. I’m free. I’m finally free.

FIVE

Prompt as always, Adele Kean knocked on Matilda’s door at seven o’clock sharp. She opened it to find her best friend standing on the doorstep with a bottle of wine in one hand and a takeaway curry in the other.

It was a special day for Adele. Nothing to celebrate, there would be no cards or presents, it was something to reflect upon. Twenty years ago today, Adele’s then boyfriend had gone off with another woman leaving her in a bedsit in Manchester to look after a two-year-old baby alone. It had been a nightmare time for Adele and thanks to the intervention of her parents, and meeting Matilda, she had been able to pull herself out of her quagmire, qualify as a pathologist and regain control of her life.

They sat at the kitchen table, curry laid out before them, wine poured, and raised their glasses to a toast.

‘To proving that fresh starts are achievable,’ Matilda said, surprisingly optimistic for her.

‘To hoping that bastard suffered a painful death from some flesh-eating virus,’ Adele offered.

‘I don’t think I want to eat