Let’s face it, my mum’s a bitch. Always has been, always fucking will be. She’s a liar, a manipulator and only ever looked out for one person—herself. I’m sure she loves me in her own sick and twisted way, but she loves herself more. As long as she’s getting what she wants, and things are her way, she’s happy.
Selfish bitch.
The truth is, I lost all respect for her when I was ten years old. My real dad died before I was born, or so my mum says. I could never tell if she was lying or telling the truth, she was that fucking good at it. Deception is her middle name. My Pops, that’s what I call my dad. He’s not my real dad, but the only real father I’ve ever known.
My mum has had a lot of men over the years. Some were nice to me, some were total cocksuckers. Pops was the best out of them all. My mum was too wrapped up in herself to see that though. He fucking loved her. He loved us both.
My parents got married when I was six. Those four years, between the ages of six and ten, were the best years of my life. Until my mum screwed it all up. She was trying to blackmail my dad over some shit. To this day I don’t know what, but she used blackmail a lot. Trying to get her way, even on me.
Anyway, Pops wouldn’t have a bar of it. My mum being the nasty bitch she is, did something I’ll never forgive her for. She dobbed him in to the cops. He served two years. Two fucking years. It broke my heart the day they raided our house and hauled him off to prison. My mum stood there smiling. Fucking smiling, while my heart was being ripped out of my chest. She even had the audacity to say, “That’ll teach you, you bastard” as he was being dragged away.
Heartless bitch.
Sure, my old man’s not perfect. He’s quite rough around the edges, but deep down he’s a good bloke, with a heart of gold. He was good to her, to me. I love him for that. He was the first person in my life who ever truly cared. He didn’t deserve the way he was being treated, especially from his wife. From the woman he loved.
Those two years while he was locked up were the worst. Fucking worst. I missed him like crazy. Mum wouldn’t even take me to visit him. I used to write to him though. The old lady next door would post the letters for me. When he wrote back, he’d send them to her address so my mum couldn’t get her hands on them. I fucking cherished each and every one of those letters. I still do.
My mum hooked up with a new guy while my dad was away. I think it only took her two, maybe three weeks.
The day my Pops got out of prison, he came straight to the house. He packed me up and told my mum I was going to live with him.
Of course she carried on, she always fucking did. ‘Drama Queen’ my dad would say. He told her she didn’t deserve me. He was right too. Then he threatened her. I’ll never forget it.
“I’m taking my son away from here, from you. I’m gonna give him the life he deserves. If you try to stand in my way, or try to take him from me, bitch, I’ll fucking kill you.” I’d never heard him speak to her like that before. When it came to me he was pretty passionate though. He’s always had my back. She let him take me and we never heard from her again.
Actually, she did call Pops once. When I was around fourteen I think. She wanted money. She was in some kind of trouble. My dad told her to fuck off and never call him again. She didn’t even ask about me, or want to talk. It hurt, but it had been like that my whole life. I was stupid to think she even cared about how I was doing.
Pops and I live in a small two-bedroom house. Nothing fancy. Pops doesn’t do fancy. But it’s ours and we look after it. We’re not what you’d call rich, far from it. We’re not poor either. Kind of middle class, I guess.
He bought the house the year I started university. He didn’t want the goings on at the clubhouse to affect my future career in any way. I felt bad taking him away from his brothers and his family, but he said he wanted me to have a better life than he had. An honourable one, something to be proud of. He said he wasn’t proud of some of the things he’d done in the past. He didn’t want the same for me.
I’ve always gotten great grades. Straight A student. Pops loved the report cards I’d bring home from school. He showed them off to everyone at the clubhouse. He would’ve shown the whole fucking world if he could. “My son’s a fucking genius,” he’d say.
He never finished school and struggles to read and write. I want to teach him, but he’s too proud for that. Says he’s too old to learn. I think he’s just embarrassed. He’s fucking brilliant with his hands though. Rebuilding cars and bikes is what he does for a living. He’s good too, one of the best in the business.