Avenged. Jacqui Rose
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in the grip of this six-foot lanky boy. He saw the tears and the fear etched into his face.
‘Let him go, you bastard!’ Picking up a bible that lay on the small locker next to where he now stood, Patrick aimed and threw it with all his might, hitting Killer directly in the face.
The corner of the hardback bible caught Killer on his lip, squirting blood across and down his body. He yelled out, partly in surprise and partly in pain, cupping his hands over his mouth before unleashing his anger. His face was bright red and his eyes bulged as he screamed at Patrick.
‘Come here! Come back here!’
Killer dropped his grip on the boy, enabling the terrified child to wriggle free and scrabble to the safety of his bed. He then lunged at Patrick, taking a swing at his head. He missed; instead grabbing hold of Patrick’s top and causing it to rip.
Patrick allowed his natural gift for fighting and his survival instincts to take over. He turned and head-butted Killer, splitting open the boy’s forehead and causing a river of deep red blood to gush out.
Enraged, Killer swung at Patrick through searing pain to the soundtrack of cheering boys. His fist connected with Patrick’s nose with rifle-like precision.
The pain took under a second to hit him, but instead of it hampering his efforts it drove Patrick on. His eyes widened and his fists beat as he jumped on Killer, battering him in a blind rage.
The two boys’ blood and sweat combined together. Grappling arms, kicks and bites were all poured into the mix as they rolled on the floor, both determined to be the victor.
On the ground now, Patrick felt his sides being booted by the circle of other boys. He knew he had to get up if he were to stand a chance. With one huge effort and summoning the last of his strength, Patrick ground his elbow into Killer’s face, damaging his already broken nose.
With Killer swathed in agony, it allowed Patrick to get up from the concrete floor. He leant over him and began to finish off the fight. He gave a final kick to his opponent, making it clear he was the winner.
Panting and exhausted, blood running into his mouth, Patrick now pointed at the other boys. He stood firm in front of the petrified young black boy as he spoke.
‘This is to all of you. So listen carefully at what I’m saying. You leave him alone, do ye hear me? Any of you come near him again. Anyone. I’ll kill you, make no mistake.’
Patrick held the gazes of the other lads before turning round to look at the boy. He winked and got a grateful smile in return. The boy looked shyly at Patrick. He spoke quietly with a slight lisp. ‘My name’s Cabhan, but everyone calls me Cab.’
Patrick winced in pain as he wiped the running blood from his face. Putting out his hand he said, ‘Well, Cab, it’s good to meet you. My name’s Patrick.’
The boy grinned, relief and gratitude coming out in the form of tears. ‘Not as good as it is to meet you, Patrick. For sure, I’ll never forget what you’ve done. Not for the rest of me life.’
It was the sixth night when Patrick was woken by Father Marley.
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