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Index cri0003 Genre Crimes & Thriller Author Lawrence Yearsley Date 18/10/00 Title ‘Gulp’ Gulp by Lawrence Yearsley It was on my twenty-fifth birthday that I decided to kill my Daddy, after  all, he deserved it. I was only six years old when Daddy left, I can remember my Mother saying, "Daddy has gone and he won't be coming back". His leaving had a strange  effect on Mother; she took to wearing black and cried a lot. When Mother cried I also cried. The neighbours tried to cheer her up. I know this because they brought her lots of flowers. One neighbour, Mrs Dyson, took me into the kitchen and talked to me on my own. "Listen Michael," she said. "You are the man of the house now". "This  means you have got to be good for your Mummy and try to help her". I promised her I would and I've always tried to keep that promise. As the years passed the only thing I could remember about Daddy, were his  eyes, those deep piercing eyes. I did go to school for a time, but they stopped  me going. They sent for my Mother, and the headmaster told her. "Mrs Furey, your son Michael is disruptive in class and is violent towards staff and pupils alike". He went on to tell her how I would beat up the other  children and steal their money. I never went back to school after that. I had watched a sword swallower on television and decided to try it for  myself. I started by swallowing small objects at first, things like coins and  safety pins. In a matter of months I could gulp down much larger things. Cutlery  and watches were not a problem for me. I also learned how to hold these things in my stomach for days on end, and whenever I wanted to retrieve them. I would simply place my hands on my stomach, push in and cough at the same time. This would make them pop up into my mouth,  and I would remove them. I never told anyone I could do this trick, not even  Mother. This is what I did with the money I stole at school that is why they could never find anything on me when they searched me. I would cough it up when I got home and put it in Mothers purse. This was my way of keeping my promise to Mrs  Dyson. So when they stopped me going to school, I would steal from the neighbours. I stole money, jewellery; I stole anything I could fit into my  mouth. I was searched many times but they never found anything on me. They would  question me, asking things like, "Where is the money, Michael"? or "What have you done with the ring, Michael"? They never found anything and I never told them anything. I would sell any jewellery I got, and put the money in Mothers purse. Eventually I was banned from all the neighbours' houses. The only thing I could think of to earn money was to travel to the city centre, and steal  from the shops there. I continued to earn money this way for years. I did have  some hair-raising moments, with store detectives and shop assistants. It always resulted in the same way; they had to let me go because no evidence was ever found. As the years went past, Mother's health deteriorated and the visits from the doctor grew more frequent. Dr Brady seemed as much concerned about my health, as he was about Mother's. "Bring your Mother's bed downstairs Michael". He urged it would be easier for the both of us. So I did as he asked and brought Mother's bed down from the bedroom, and put  it in the living room. The doctor would call once a week and give her an injection or something, he would also insist I take one of my tablets in front of him. He said he was worried that I wasn't taking them regularly enough. I  would take one and just cough it up after he left. I didn't need his stupid tablets; I was the man of the house now. The day before my twenty-fifth birthday I arrived home, and the moment I put  the key into the lock, I sensed there was something wrong. I carried the  shopping through the living room and into the kitchen. As I had passed Mother's bed I had seen him, but I pretended I never saw him. What is he doing back? I  asked myself. Where is Mother and why is he in her bed? I had to pause so I could catch my breath, then I heard my Mother's voice. "Michael, Michael, what's up Michael"? Thinking he had gone, I rushed into the living room. I was wrong, he was still there. Sure, he looked like Mother,  he even sounded like her, but I knew it wasn't her. You see, I recognised the eyes, those deep piercing eyes. That wasn't Mother on the bed. No, the person on the bed was Daddy. "Michael don't stare at me like that, you're frightening me". Mother's voice startled me, but it didn't fool me. "I don't know what you have done with Mother," I screamed, "but I'm going upstairs now, and when I come back down, I want you to be gone and Mother back in her bed". I stormed up the stairs and stayed in my room all night. I went to bed, but I never slept. I just lay there all night thinking. Next morning, as the light crept into my bedroom, I  made my decision. Today, my birthday, I will kill Daddy. He was still there when I went downstairs. "Michael, what's up with you?  I haven't had anything to eat or drink all night. Please Michael, tell me what's  wrong". Mother's voice was pleading, but it couldn't fool me. I just put my mouth close to his ear and whispered, "Daddy, dear Daddy, today is your day  to die". I turned and walked through to the kitchen, opened the knife drawer and  made my selection. You should have seen the expression on his face, when I walked back into the  room holding a knife. He tried one last desperate plea to save his life. "Listen Michael", he cried, "Daddy died a long time ago, don't you understand, I'm your Mother". "No you're not" I shouted, and plunged the knife through one of those evil eyes. It must have gone through the brain too, because he never had time to scream. For what seemed like a lifetime, I kept  stabbing at those awful eyes. Blood soaked; I hid the knife, opened the door and walked into the street. That was a few days ago, and as you can imagine I caused quite a commotion. I was arrested and held in a cell at the police station. Both the police and the doctors questioned me. The main question the police asked me was about the knife. "Where is the knife Michael"? "What did you do with the knife"? I  told them I couldn't remember what I had done with it. Of course I never  mentioned my little trick to them. The doctors on the other hand wanted to know why I had done it. They asked, "Why did you kill your Mother, Michael? We thought you loved your Mother". I told them I did love my Mother and the person I killed wasn't my Mother. "Then who did you kill, Michael"? they asked. I told them "Daddy, that was Daddy". I think that was the reason they brought me here to the psychiatric  hospital. The reason why I'm telling you all this, is because Daddy escaped. I don't know how, but he did. All I can tell you is not only is he alive, but he is  here, here in the hospital. He's pretending to be one of the orderlies. He can't  fool me though, I know it's him, I can tell by his eyes, those deep piercing eyes. He will not escape this time, this time I'll make sure he's dead. He is  due to bring the medicine trolley around, and when he does he has to turn his  back on me, that's when I will get him. They all wanted to know what had become of the knife, now they will all find out. All I have to do is put my hands on my stomach, press in and cough at the same time.