My momentary slip in sanity cost me a broken nose—courtesy of Mark—and a lifelong ban from number nine—courtesy of his father. It was worth it, though, and I would gladly take a dozen broken bones if it meant that I got to hit that prick again. Better still, Dad had taken leave of his senses when he saw the condition of my face and had beaten seven kinds of shite out of Mark for putting his hands on “his child.” I wasn’t too happy about being referred to as a child, but I couldn’t deny the solid my father had done for me. After all, Dad had been given a lifelong ban from number nine right
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