Flesh and Blood, Sian Rosé [most difficult books to read TXT] 📗

was as though her brain had temporarily blacked out the feeling of the knife’s edge teasing the side of her neck and the trickle of warm urine that had soaked her legs.

But, it suddenly came back to her.

The tight grip of the girl, holding her so hard that it hurt her limbs. Her hot, panting breath at the side of her face. The way her heart skipped a beat as she was thrown from the RV and landed face down in the mud.

Cold, wet, and afraid.

“You alright now?” Minnie asked, watching her daughter with concerned eyes.

“Mum, I’m fine!” snapped Flo, although she was secretly glad that she had woken up nestled inside her mother’s comforting embrace. It signalled that the stupid woman that had held a knife to her throat had lost, and once again, THEY had won.

They always did. Flo almost felt stupid for ever believing otherwise.

“You got them?” Flo asked, scrambling to get off of the bed. She pulled apart two thick fabric curtains that hung next to the bed to reveal the rest of the top deck. An astounded gasp escaped her lips as she absorbed the large flat screen and extravagant cushioned sofas that were built into a corner. On the other side was a set of bunk beds, each with dishevelled bed covers as if they had been slept in. There was also a bookcase crammed with books; and what appeared to be a sound system and a plugged-in laptop. Further down, there was a closed-off section, which Flo presumed to be the second bathroom, then a spacious seating area at the front, with a huge, wide window stretching across the front of the bus.

“They’re in the van.”

“Huh?” Flo asked faintly, so mesmerised by the top half of the RV that she was barely paying attention to the answer to her question.

“The couple,” Minnie said, “both secured in the back of the van.”

A few minutes later, Flo was hurriedly jogging two steps at a time down the steep, spiral staircase onto the lower deck; the clean tiles cool beneath her feet. Downstairs, she found that the furniture and interior had been tidied and washed, so the place was just as neat and pristine as it had been the previous evening. Gone were the muddy, blood-stained boots and clothes and the grisly marks staining the floor. Sat at the table, Stella lazed on the cushioned seat smoking a cigarette, whilst Lloyd and Zach appeared to be playing a racing game on the flat screen.

It was warm, homely.

Flo couldn’t help but smile.

Of course, she knew that they’d never be a normal family. Never the kind of nuclear bullshit you’d find on a cereal box. Flo would never want that, either. But still, the prospect of having this luxurious, cosy abode on a permanent basis excited her. Finally, she could put down her few belongings and not have to move them all around again in a matter of a few days. She’d no longer be sleeping in a hotel, or somebody else’s house whilst their dead body began to decompose in its underbelly.

“Sleeping beauty is awake then?” Zach chuckled without turning around, sensing his youngest sibling’s presence on the stairs. “Finally. We’ve all been waiting for you to re-surface so that we can get down to business. You over your trauma?” his tone was playful, but eight-year-old Flo scowled in retaliation.

“Yes, thanks for asking,” she sneered, folding her arms across her chest. “What about you, Zach? Over your trauma from the deal at Mr. Yoki’s place?”

Stella and Lloyd sniggered whilst Zach snapped his head around and shot Flo a furious glare. “You shut the fuck up about that!”

Flo smiled smugly, “shut the fuck up, yourself,” she replied.

The family’s last ever involvement in the business of moving cocaine had come to a head just a few months previous when a drug deal had gone horrendously wrong at their supplier, Mr. Yoki’s, house. The entire sordid affair had ended with Zach being beaten the hell out of and then bundled into the back of a car boot, where he proceeded to literally shit himself out of fear.

His younger brother and sisters had not let him hear the end of it, as soon as they were all back to safety, of course. Just a bit of ‘good old-fashioned sibling banter’ Minnie had referred to it, a wistful shine in her eyes.

“Touché,” Zach said finally, a small smile creeping up into the corners of his mouth. All jokes aside, he was happy to see that his little sister was okay. He exited his game and turned around. Excitedly, the young man rubbed his hands together, a bright gleam dominating his beady pupils.

“And, now you’re up, we can finally have our fun…”

Chapter Twenty-one

Summer, 1999

“Where the hell did this all come from?” Ronnie gaped.

Minnie paused before she answered, just to absorb the unfathomable image in front of her and the gravity of what she had just done, what she was doing. Ultimately, her entire body, every fibre of her being, ached with guilt. But, try as she might, there was no denying the tiny spark that had been ignited somewhere inside her chest, exploding like a firework with the adrenaline and all the excitement of being so uncharacteristically…

…bad.

“I’m too ashamed to say,” she admitted stiffly, unable to meet her boyfriend’s eye. Though, this didn’t matter because Ronnie was still too stunned by the wads of cash pouring out of the old, pink backpack that Minnie had just dumped at the end of the bed. She hated herself for the glimmer of pride that she felt, to see how flabbergasted he was.

“I just…” Ronnie trailed off, pressing his hand to his open mouth. “I can’t, Min. I can’t take this from you.”

Clearing her throat, Minnie folded her arms and glared at him. “Ronnie- it’s done,” she said snippily. “I can’t take it back. There’s a lot of money here; it’ll be enough for a decent hotel.”

For a moment, Ronnie was quiet, shaking his