Keep It in the Family

by John Marrs

Such a violation of the rules could place me inside the room next time.

No one under this roof believes in compassion. Empathy is an alien emotion here.

Then in one swift manoeuvre, his feet leave the floor and vanish upwards, as if the angels have carried him away to heaven. They haven’t, of course. This is a place even angels avoid.

It might remain in the newspapers or on the television for a few days, or even a week. Then something fresher and more pressing will replace him. Everyone except their families soon forgets about a missing child. And me. I remember every one of them. Because I am the bait that lures them here.

‘Look, I can’t say hand on heart that this is going to work out for us. It might be a complete disaster. But we can only give it our best shot and keep our fingers crossed.’ ‘Funny, that’s what I was going to say in my wedding vows,’ she jokes.

who’d have believed you and Mum were fighting to get your hands on the same thing?’ ‘She and I have been doing that ever since I met you.’ ‘I meant the house. You two finally have something in common. They say that men marry their mothers.’ ‘I’ll remind you of that comparison the next time you’re begging for a fumble under the duvet. I’ll even let you call me Mum if you like.’

For all her faults, I could never be without this woman. She came into my life at a time when I needed someone to be on my side, and she has never left. I would die for her, without hesitation. In fact, if it wasn’t for her, I would probably be dead already.

I know that I wear a different, tougher skin now to the one I was born into, but scratch beneath the surface and below I am that same, frightened child.

To some, I’m a saviour, but to others, I’m a monster. I know what my work has been about, all the souls I’ve saved from torment.

show me a mother who doesn’t want to spend time with her son and I’ll show you someone who hasn’t raised him properly.

But I’ve grown to realise that when I don’t have blood on my hands, they are uncomfortably dry.

If she continues to poke at the wasps’ nest, she will end up getting stung.

Maybe that’s why she’s not the only girl in my life: subconsciously I keep a spare as I don’t want to be left on my own.

you bring nothing but unhappiness here. You are like a cancer in our family, Mia, eating away at us.

‘But Dad was your son,’ I said. ‘Which is why we were duty bound. We brought him into this world so it was our responsibility to take him out of it.’

The only thing I have to thank her for is teaching me to kill without remorse. When you do it for a reason, you do it without conscience. I may have felt guilty about the kids I helped her to find, but not the lives I have since taken.