The stepfather

Cristina – Stage 11 May 2022

First Language English IGCSE narrative coursework

Grade: A

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It was a typical foggy day in early winter, yet we begged to go outside. The grey atmosphere was suffocating and outside the lawn was still painted white with frost, but we burst out the door and flew through the wet grass like fugitives on the run.

“Have you seen Mr. Wilson?” Mum called from the porch. It was the question I had been waiting for.

“I haven’t, but who cares where that monster is anyway?” I exclaimed with no regret. My mom shook her head disappointedly while I felt a wave of irritation flood my body.

My darling sister peered up at us, saucer-eyed and full of concern; she cared about everyone and could never imagine a human being possessing the intention or capability of doing harm – being small really did look easy. Linda was worried about Mr. Wilson because she was too young to see how he was treating Mum.

“I’ll be seeker – you go hide!” I announced, trying to distract Linda from the tense moment she had just witnessed. I buried my face in my hands and started counting down. There were only a few years between us, but Linda seemed so much younger than me – I guess that’s why I felt such a responsibility as her big brother to protect her. Ever since Dad had left, it had been the three of us but when Mr. Wilson started dating our Mum everything changed. He seemed nice enough at first, but I had seen glimpses of the person behind the mask – I’d seen how he treated Mum when we were out of sight. I knew he wasn’t good for her, or for us.

“Three, two, one. Ready or not, here I come!” I opened my eyes and squinted as a single ray of sunlight pierced through the dark clouds that were forming above us – it looked as though a storm was coming. As my eyes adjusted, I saw something move and spun around to catch my sister, wondering why she hadn’t found a hiding place yet, but it wasn’t her. A black cat snuck past me and disappeared into the hedge; I remembered the saying about black cats being bad luck. Then I spotted a tuft of messy hair poking out from behind a nearby bush – Linda never seemed to brush her dark, curly locks. I crept over, ready to pounce on her when suddenly a shrill shriek pierced the silence – it was coming from her direction.

I ran towards Linda and saw her pointing at a tiny, crimson, congealed puddle. “Blood!” she squealed. I inspected the red, mucous-like substance, which appeared to be home to a single ugly, black, curly hair. It had to be from the Halloween party we’d held at the house the week before, I explained as I took her hand and led my trembling sister back to the house. But she wasn’t convinced and broke free of my grip, rushing back to the unfortunate spot.

“There’s a trail!” she exclaimed. Before I could get to her, she was running towards the abandoned shed in the woods at the bottom of our garden. How could she move so quickly with such short legs? How could I have been so careless?

By the time I caught up with her, she was standing over Mr. Wilson’s dead body, lying in naked soil and covered with his own maroon darkness. The nauseating smell of blood filled the air and turned my stomach. Mr. Wilson’s skin was greyer than the metal bars of a jail cell and his turquoise eyes stared right through us, making him look like the devil he was. I hadn’t had a choice. I had to make him stop. I had to save my family. He was a demon who had chosen my mother as his victim.

I knew I had done the right thing, but my vision began to blur, and my eyes became two ponds, filled with tears that began to stream down my face. I was not crying because of what I had done but for what I knew I had to do next. Shaking, I took a deep breath and tried to control my quavering voice. She needed to get Mum, I told Linda, and I sent her towards the house, stumbling and crying. As soon as she was out of sight I took off in the other direction, running as fast as my legs could carry me, towards a world I was not ready for.

I still wonder what happened next. I see my mother arriving at Mr. Wilson’s body in my dreams – sometimes she seems relieved, other times she breaks down with anger and anguish. I imagine my Mum and sister together in our home, able to enjoy the life they deserve, but I know it will always be tainted with the memories of that day that will never escape them. Running away was the smartest and scariest decision I have ever made; everyone deserves to feel safe in their own home, yet I didn’t in mine. A sad smile spread across my face as I reminded myself that they are safe now – their home had been exorcised. The fog lifted and the thunder rose as I roamed the streets without a destination.