The Snowball

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
Retribution from nowhere. The Leigh saga is finally over, for good.

Submitted: October 11, 2015

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Submitted: October 11, 2015

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It snowed almost all of January, a white layer of opportunity covered every part of outside. In direct contrast to the year before, snow had provided me with endless days of mayhem, whereas before it had hindered me excruciatingly. A year ago I had been away from home, hiking one end of town to the other just to get to school. No money, no hope, snow just slowed me down. This time around, we'd thrown snow at absolutely everything and everyone. Spencer had made his usual snow-only appearance, deciding that inhibitions weren't a necessary human component, and threw snow at people indoors and out. I was 17, I thrived on trouble, I was in my element. This season had been remarkable, I was repairing every bit of damage that had dented my life the season before, and I didn't want to stop. I'd become fairly humble, and confidence was fairly poor. I'd lost my outgoing tendencies, unless I was home, unless I was around the people I felt comfortable with. I likened myself to a football team that won all it's games at home, but was shit away. I'd become locked in routine, progress had stopped. The 14th January, there was nothing special about this day, it had been so long since the weather resembled normality that I'd forgotten what normal ground and grass looked like. As usual, I bullied Chris and Micky into coming down to Sainsburys, half hoping a chance to talk to Lauren would arise, but this had gone on too long, this wasn't working, but my relentless approach to everything meant I wouldn't give up until I was told there was no chance.

 

I've never been able to dress appropriately for weather conditions, and today represented no change to that fallacy. Dark jeans with a light grey open buttoned t-shirt, a trademark look I'd implemented for well over a year. Jackets were absent from my fashion. Falsifying a reason on Chris and Micky to attend, we were swept into the warmth as the door beckoned us inside. Less than a dozen steps in, and a feeling I'd forgotten hit me and trapped my movement. There, stood in a gap between the aisles, was Leigh. My enemy, my pain. It was the first time in years he'd not been at my house or Lyttons. There was no protection for him. The irony was that Berwick and Lyttons were my safety net, my comfort zone, but also his. He lived in my house, he had more authority than I did, he was the only thing that could defeat me at home. He held a position at Lytton as well, hierarchical structure had fucked me up for years. Neither me nor him had any affiliation with this place. Accompanying him was Emily, I'd known Emily for years, she had always been pretty and that hadn't changed, I struggled to understand how Leigh, obese and absurd, managed to do so well with women. I'd had a huge crush on Emily when I was 12, so first my mum, now my crush, who was next Lauren? Lauren! The purpose of my trip suddenly flew to the from of my mind. My eyes focused left, and I could see her, aisle 5, same as always. I couldn't have my long awaited spat with Leigh in front of her. I'd spent months deconstructing the negative perception she had of me. She thought I was trouble, so how would this appear? But this was my chance, I'd waited years for half a chance like this, I couldn't simply chuck aside fate's gift to me. He looked no different, his arrogance circled his chubby stubble covered face. His fashion was identical, inappropriately suited for almost all occasions. His eyes spied mine, and his gaze filled me with encouragement.

 

Initially, the all too familiar over-shocked expression dominated his face. It was cut short, he was all too aware of it. His cocky grin and subtle laugh emerged and I knew it was for show, all part of the facade. The brightness of my surroundings escaped my vision, I focused intently on him. My prey. I began my offensive, Lauren wasn't worth it, she showed little interest, and I wasn't about to piss away my history for her. I owed him, big fucking time.

 

I strode with pace, aiming straight at this fat prick, my weapon of choice, words.

 

"Who's gonna protect you now you fat cunt!"

 

Leigh appeared almost unresponsive, but history has taught me that Leigh couldn't stand to be ripped to pieces. I lived with this man, I knew he had weaknesses to exploit. Humiliation, he couldn't stand it. Emily leapt to his defence.

 

"Just stop Tom, you don't need to say anything, you don't need to get involved."

 

"Fuck off Emily, it's got nothing to do with you!" I swept aside her attempt to halt my attack. Crush number two out of the way. It didn't bother me. I think if Alice had walked in I probably would've spat in her eye to get to Leigh, my anger intensified and grew. I shook and my heart thrashed. Leigh began to power walk towards the exit, my pace interrupted his escape.

 

"Running away are you? Thought you would do something, you were the big man at home and at Lyttons."

 

Micky and Chris offered me nothing, I was slightly surprised, although, I didn't care, I didn't need them. This was my fight, my ordeal, all I needed was me, this better me, me who had turned a desperate situation. We were outside, this was my playground, not his. Snow.

 

I scooped up and rolled some snow into an uneven oblong looking shape. There was no need for precision here, it just needed to hit him. In that single moment that the ball left my hand I saw myself, at 14, dressed in a red top I no longer owned, my hair a shade of blonde I no longer desired. Slightly shorter and baby faced, he smiled with subtlety. "Do it." Calm and composed, a definitive contrast to current me, I was obliging. I saw myself a little older, still 14, a Liverpool top hanging from me with pride, a more serious smile etched upon my face. "Do it." I grew angrier. There I was at 15, my hair longer and darker this time, a light blue top, and my first stab at jeans. There was less horror in my face, but determination had taken its place. "Do it." Softer, but just as serious as before. This Tom now wore a hospital gown. A tear scarred his cheek, but he still smiled, then a large flow of blood began to seep from his temple, his eye squinted. "Remember." The night I forgot his power, I remembered. Now I was 16, my hair was shorter, a cocky smile already present. "Do it." He threw with me, he had no fear. 16 again, my clothes changed once more, shades of blue hooped on a t-shirt. There was despair engraved on his lips, no smile, he spat his words. "Do it." No hint of a smile. I threw, a tennis-esque grunt flew from my mouth. I missed.

 

Before Leigh could make anymore progress on his exit, I formed a more conventional ball and raised my arm. This time it was just me, at 17, adorned in my grey open buttoned shirt, dark jeans and absent jacket. I screamed inside. "Do it!" I hit.

 

The ball stuck to Leigh's neck, almost as if he were as cold as the snow itself. How apt. The ball sank down the inside of his shirt, and I saw his reluctant shudder break his pace. I raced ahead to his car and he half placed himself inside.

 

"What's up Leigh?! Did your Nan die again?!" This was a reference to the numerous times Leigh claimed his nan had died in order to receive time off work. In reality both were still living, bother were considerably poorer. Leigh had fleeced not just is, but his relatives as well. He flung his door at my knee. I edged myself round his car and stared at his number plate, nodding excessively. 

 

"What are you doing?!" At last he spoke.

 

"Just getting a good look, to help me remember it." I'll never forget the fear that Leigh's eyes offered. He slammed his door and sped off at a speed that probably broke any achieved in Sainsburys car park before. 

 


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