Mayhem Read Online Free PDF

‘gift’ became a myth, a story of its own.
    ‘There’s no such thing as the gift,’ Matilda said, hugging her own tiny daughter to her chest. ‘It’s just old superstition.’
    ‘Old superstitions are not to be sneered at,’ Golda Kosminski snapped at her eldest daughter. ‘They come from truths that we are too busy to see.’
    ‘Maybe if he has the sight he can tell us where Father is. At least that would be useful.’
    ‘Matilda!’ Betsy said, shocked. ‘Sometimes you are too mean .’ She turned and squeezed their mother’s arm, still wrapped tightly around Aaron, who in turn pulled him closer until he thought he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t like touching Betsy. He didn’t like it at all.
    ‘It’s the middle of the night and I haven’t had anysleep for days,’ Matilda sighed. ‘It would appear that tonight isn’t going to be any exception.’
    ‘Father’s dead,’ Aaron whispered, so quietly that it took a few seconds before his sisters paused in their bickering and looked at him. ‘He wasn’t lying when he said he was going to join the Army. He never got there. He died in a ditch on the way. They took his boots and his hat.’ His mother’s arms fell away and he pulled back from her. He kept his eyes down and picked at his thin hands. They were all staring at him and he didn’t like it.
    ‘How … ?’ Matilda’s question trailed off and she stepped forwards, folding her arms across her chest. ‘How could you possibly know that?’ she finally said as she peered over him.
    ‘The gift,’ Golda whispered. ‘The boy has the gift.’ This time Matilda didn’t snort.
    The cold in Aaron’s bones was getting worse and he wished they would start up the morning fire, even though it was hours till dawn. He didn’t understand how he knew his father’s fate – he hadn’t been aware that he did until the words came tumbling from his mouth. But he had always been certain, in a way his sisters and mother hadn’t, that his father was never coming back.
    ‘They’re all going to blame us for what’s happening to the man. Tomorrow.’ He didn’t sound like himself. Fifteen was nearly grown, but sitting there under the scrutiny of his older sisters and his mother he felt likea little boy again – like the boy who had screamed all night when he was four. He pushed that memory from his head. Just talking was making him warmer. He had to get the coldness out.
    ‘What man?’ Betsy asked.
    ‘The screaming man. The man with no legs.’ His teeth were chattering and his words came out in stuttered bursts. ‘They’re carrying him. His stomach is ripped open and his legs are gone.’
    ‘This is all just nonsense,’ Matilda said, but her nervous voice suggested otherwise. ‘It’s a bad dream – he’s always been strange, ever since that night when he was small.’
    ‘Stop it, Tilda.’ Betsy’s face burned slightly.
    ‘Well, it’s true.’
    ‘Maybe he was strange before that.’ Betsy was defiant. ‘It wasn’t my fault anyway. Let’s just forget it.’ She tucked a curl around her ear. She was the beauty of their family, just turned twenty-three and married to Woolf, the butcher’s son. Her choice hadn’t surprised Aaron: Betsy was steeped in blood in his mind; no wonder she liked a man who must stink of it.
    ‘They’ll blame us – all of them. They’re filled with so much hate.’
    ‘Who, Aaron?’ his mother asked. ‘ Who will blame us?’
    ‘The town,’ he said softly. ‘All the towns – they’ll come to burn everything. They’re filled with hate and anger and they blame us for the dead man with nolegs, and everything else.’ He looked up at his mother. ‘We have to leave, or bad things will happen to us.’ He swallowed hard. ‘To you and Matilda especially.’
    This time his eldest sister paled in the shadowy light that filled the room. ‘It’s nonsense,’ she said again, eventually. ‘The boy’s talking rubbish, playing a stupid game with us.’ She tutted