“He’s waking up…”

There was something on his face, something was smothering him. He reached up to pull it away, feeling the weight and movement of the tubes that dangled from his hand. Before he could remove it, a hand caught his wrist, pinning it back down. Another hand holding a light was suddenly above him, shining the beam directly into his eyes. He heard words, he presumed they were English, but he couldn’t understand them. It was like listening to a radio station that wasn’t coming in right, only it was a rushing noise, and not static, that was drowning them out.

He wanted to talk to the figures around him, he wanted to tell them he couldn’t breathe, or see more than shadows and light. His hand went up to his face again, trying to pull away the thing that was covering his nose and mouth. The other hands were still quicker, though, and they pinned him down again, though this time he felt tight straps crossing his forearms, securing them at his sides. He tried to speak with the thing over his mouth, but the lack of air in his system reduced his words to unintelligible babble between violent coughs. His body was fighting him to breathe, but he was losing the battle quickly. They’d tied him down, they were smothering him, and he didn’t even know who they were.

The rushing noise began to get louder as shadow enveloped everything around him. He was sinking; he could feel his body dropping down as he realized what the sound was. Before he could scream for help, the last of the light disappeared, along with the noise, and he was left in darkness and silence.


Jude Valentine’s life had all gone to plan, or as close to a plan as the twenty one year old could come up with. He’d lived up to all his expectations, and was rather popular and well-liked in his small, lower class Brixton neighborhood. There were few people outside of that handful of apartment buildings and flats that would count his life as anything but a pathetic waste, but there, Jude was a prince.

Richard Valentine, a huge Beatles fan, had always wanted a son named Jude. When the time came to name his oldest boy, he insisted on it, though his wife Helen didn’t agree with the name at first as it seemed too short for her. Richard agreed to a compromise, and they decided to name their son Judas; a nice, Biblical name. Unfortunately for them, they were more than a little mixed up, and it wasn’t until a few months later that they realized that Judas wasn’t the man that lived in the whale, and was, in fact, the one who betrayed Jesus. From that day forward, neither Valentine referred to their son as anything more than Jude.

Jude lived in the same flat his entire life; a one floor, two-bedroom apartment above a tailor’s shop with a tan brick exterior, and creaky wood floors. His parents couldn’t afford much on two part time worker’s salaries, but both Jude and his younger brother Samuel were always clothed and fed. Due to finances, they were, however, forced to share a room together, and despite many promises from Richard, they shared the same bunk bed from childhood on.

In most ways, the Valentines were a very typical family for that area, and Jude and Samuel were given typical upbringings. They went to church on Easter, Christmas, or if Jude misbehaved horribly, and they frequented the local pub every night, catching up on community gossip over a smoke and a pint while the kids played in the park across the street. They gave their sons footballs for their birthdays, and cheap sleds for Christmas, and considered beans and crisps to be an acceptable meal three times a day. Though both Jude and Samuel were given equal treatment, it was early in their childhood that they proved to be very different people.

When Jude began to get in trouble at school, Richard Valentine dismissed it as normal horseplay, and perfectly fine behavior for a growing boy. As mouthing off and misbehaving gave way to fistfights, his parents continued to praise their oldest boy, claiming he could do no wrong. His grades were pitiful at best, but Richard only scoffed, saying that marks meant nothing, though he seemed to forget this belief when it came to bragging about Samuel’s report card. They were earmarked early on in life as the ‘tough one’ and the ‘smart one’, and both seemed to enjoy living up to their reputations.

It was unspoken knowledge among the neighborhood that, when most boys got older, they had two choices regarding out of school activities. Join a gang, or stay inside and hide from them. The two prominent ones in the area were a prominently Pakistani group called the Lions, and a group of skinheads dubbed the Droogs. For the most part, the Droogs would take anyone as long as they were working class, and had a number of Black and Asian members, though the swastika over a four-leafed clover the gang used an insignia scared away more than a few potential boys. Jude, however, had no fear once his time came, and happily joined the Droogs without hesitation. He quickly became one of their best young fighters, and with lessons from another member’s father and time, Jude proved to be quite a talented boxer. The higher ups in the gang began to invite Jude to participate in unlicensed bare knuckle boxing matches, and, in his sixteenth year, he quit school to pursue boxing full time.


“…he’s not getting enough oxygen, he’s having seizures…”

“We’re almost there, just keep your eyes on him…”

Awake again, but this time the rushing noise was quieter, overpowered by voices, and the noise of a siren. His eyes rolled open again, unfocused, but seeing more than he did before. There was colour in the shadows around him now, though still not much. He could guess he was in the inside of an ambulance, he could feel the vehicle swaying and jostling over bumps in the road. It took him a few seconds to remember what exactly could have happened to land him in an ambulance in the first place…

“Sam…!!” He managed to gasp, coughing harder as he squirmed on the bed, trying desperately to knock the mask off his face. The panic he’d been feeling in his last truly conscious moment was flooding back, but the effort to speak had sent him into another coughing fit.

He was choking on air, every breath he managed to take was burning his throat. The weight was pressing on his chest again, and he was feeling desperately claustrophobic. He couldn’t move, or breathe, or do anything but fight against his body. He wanted to rip away the mask, and the tubes, and everything else, and to get away from this, to run until his legs collapsed from under him.

Instead, he fell back into unconsciousness.


Samuel Valentine couldn’t help resenting his older brother just a little, and it made him feel guilty. Everything in Jude’s life just seemed to fall into his lap, and no matter how much Jude screwed up, everything worked for him. No matter what Jude ate or drank, or how much, he kept his perfect build, and clear skin, while Samuel had tried everything to shed his own baby fat, and the reoccurring spots on his chin. And, while Jude had dropped out of school after never achieving a mark of more than 65% while Samuel got the top marks in his level, he was still the one his father bragged about to his friends at the pub. Samuel told himself it was because he’d never won anyone money, no one put bets on science fairs and essays, and the only reason everyone loved Jude was because he lined their wallets. Still, this was little comfort, until the day came that cracks surfaced in Jude’s perfect image.

Samuel had come home nearly an hour past curfew that night, having lost track of time in the library studying for his fourth form history exams. He’d expected an earful from his mother, if not a few swats with the broom, but was surprised when he entered the flat to find both his parents sitting silently and ashen faced at the kitchen table. Instantly, he began to panic, he’d never seen them like this, so grave and quiet, and his mother’s red-rimmed eyes only did more to fuel his fears. Something terrible had happened, he knew it, and he knew it was about Jude. But when he opened his mouth to speak, his father’s quiet, flat voice just told Samuel to go to his room. Too scared to argue, Samuel grabbed his bag and all but ran to the small bedroom at the end of the hall. As he opened the door, a wave of relief hit him as he saw the familiar figure of his brother lying on the top bunk, staring at the ceiling.

“Jude! What…what’s going on??” Samuel spoke in as loud as a whisper as he dared, his hands shaking as he closed the door, dropping his bag against it. “I thought…I thought something awful’d happened!! Mum and Dad…”

“Mum caught me kissing someone…” Jude replied, his voice much softer than Samuel was used to.

“So? When’s this been a new thing? She...” He stopped there, a shocking realization dawning on him; Jude hadn’t said ‘a girl’, he’d said ‘someone’. “Jude, no way, you mean…?”

Jude finally moved at this point, rolling over and facing the wall as he curled his legs up to his chest, pulling the blanket over himself. But if he was pretending to go to bed, he was doing a poor job. Samuel knew that Jude couldn’t sleep in any more than his underwear; he’d been like that all his life.

“Jude, if you are what difference is it? They’ll get over it, they love you too much to be mad forever,” Samuel said, taking a few steps forward towards the bed, annoyed that he’d been so frightened over something so stupid. So Jude got in real trouble for once in his life, big fucking deal, he deserved it by this point.

“…it’s not that easy, Sam,” Jude started, his voice slow as if he was thinking of each word before he said it.

“Of course it is,” Samuel retorted, unable to hide his annoyance any more. “Everything is for you, just give it a day or two and they’ll be over it. Probably throw you some sort of stupid party or something, too, just so no one forgets that you’re the perfect one, and I’m-“

“They’re going to kill me!” Jude hissed, turning around to face his brother, his eyes full of anger and fear. “For someone so smart, you’re fucking stupid, Samuel! If this gets out, my mates are going to murder me! Remember Greg Meadows? How I told you he moved last year? The only place he moved was underground, you naïve cunt! They found out about him and now he’s dead!”

Samuel stared at Jude, not breathing or blinking as the gravity of the situation began to set in. Jude had never, ever mentioned anything like this to him before, in fact, he kept all the Droog business away from his younger brother.

“…you…you just have to quit…” Samuel stuttered when he found his voice again. “Jude, you have to quit them and avoid them, it’s not all that hard, they’ve never bothered me, an-“

“They don’t bother you because I’ve told them to leave you alone, don’t you get that?” Jude interrupted, running a shaking hand over his hair. “And you’ve got your face in fucking books too much if you think all I have to do is give them my notice and I can go, it doesn’t work like that. If you want out, you either run for your life and pray you can run faster than them, or you leave the way Greg did. And…” He stopped, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, trying to get rid of the terrible knot in his stomach. “And everyone’s counting on me anyway…I can’t go…”

“That’s stupid! Who cares who is counting on you, it’s your life!” Samuel tried to hold himself back from screaming in frustration. Life or death, and Jude still cared more about what people thought about him. “You’ve got money from fighting, just take it and go!”

“I couldn’t do that…” His shoulders sinking, Jude looked down as he spoke. “And, even if I wanted to, I haven’t got anything…I lost it all.”

“…lost it?” Samuel echoed incredulously. “How the bloody hell did you lose it?”

“Keep your voice down!” Jude faced Samuel again, whispering loudly. “Look…after my fights, I’ve been playing cards, alright? I’m on a bit of a bad streak right now, but Mum and Dad can’t find out!”

“Gambling? You’ve gambled it all away? When did you start that shit? And you’re seventeen; you’re not old enough to be doing that, who’s been letting you in?” Samuel couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he knew Jude was dumb, but this was above and beyond what he’d expect from him.

“It’s the same place where my matches have been, alright? They don’t care how old I am, they said if I’m old enough to fight like a man, I can play cards like one, they’ve been letting me play since I first went there,” Jude shook his head. “You don’t get it, its part of the business…”

“It’s part of the business because they don’t want to have to pay you, Jude. All they want is their money back, they don’t care about you, don’t you get it? You call me naïve and look at you, how can’t you see that?” Samuel snorted, getting annoyed again. “All you’re doing is playing right into their hands, you’re making them money, and you’re giving any money you make back to them, so where does that leave you? You’re broke, and stuck here, and you’re fucked unless you lie to yourself and everyone else!”

Samuel immediately regretted being so harsh with Jude as he watched his older brother’s face fall.

“…I’m keeping you out of the Droogs, and I’m making Mum and Dad proud, and I have some good mates, even if I can’t tell them everything…” Jude said after a long pause. “If I have to give something up to do that, then I guess that’s what I have to do. They’re counting on me.”

That was the end of the conversation as Helen Valentine had come to the door to collect her oldest son and have a word with him. Samuel didn’t see him again until nearly midnight, and only saw him at breakfast and at night for the rest of the week. He was too nervous to ask what was going on, but he’d later find out that their mother had first taken Jude to his boyfriend’s house to break up, then to the doctors for a check up, and church to be ‘cured’. Jude had gone willingly, and by the next week, it was as if it had never happened, and the entire incident was never mentioned in the Valentine house again.

Though everyone else seemed to forget about it, Samuel never did. That was when he learned that his brother wasn’t popular because he was perfect, but because he was a novelty. He was like a circus dog, he did what was expected of him, and the people clapped and gave him praise. Sure, he seemed to have it all now, but his looks would fade, his ‘career’ would end, and he’d be cast aside for something newer and better, with nothing to fall back on; he’d thrown it all away for the occasional pat on the head, or a ‘good boy’.

Samuel didn’t resent Jude after that. He pitied him.


“…smoke inhalation, first and second degree burns to his hands and right shoulder…”

“…seizures, most likely from oxygen deprivation…”

“…intubate him…”

The rocking and sirens had stopped, replaced by another feeling that was vaguely like falling, or flying. He was being wheeled down a hallway, and the voices had changed, as had the view overhead. Everything was white, and bright, and it hurt his eyes terribly to open them. His entire body felt burnt and dry, like every ounce of moisture had been sucked from it. The heat had been so intense; it had sucked the life from him the second he got past the door…

It was the last thing he remembered before all of this.

“Sam…” he managed to gasp again. Where was Samuel? He hadn’t heard him, or his parents.

He felt the mask being taken off his face, and despite the claustrophobic feeling it was giving him, he instantly wished it was still there. Breathing without it was like breathing in sand.

“Samuel…he’s…asthma…” He could barely breathe, much less speak. “Dad…heart…his heart’s got…”

“Relax, son…” a woman’s voice said, her tone was reassuring and soft as he heard a cart being wheeled up beside him. He felt the tube in his arm being tugged at as more figures came crowding around him. “Relax and let the anesthetic work…we’re just here to help…”

“Mum…Mum’s on blood pressure pills…allergic to…”

“Relax.”

Everything disappeared into darkness again, though it wasn’t gradual this time.


Jude couldn’t wait for his twenty first birthday; twenty one had always been a lucky number for him, and being twenty was proving to be quite a headache.  He started off the year having to get dental surgery, having four of his top teeth replaced though he was told he was wasting his money if he was just going to keep fighting. Jude didn’t want to admit to being vain, so he blamed not being able to eat properly as his reasoning for having it done. The other thing Jude didn’t want to admit to was that it didn’t happen in the ring, and rather, his long time girlfriend Shanna had done it with a lamp when he told her he didn’t want to marry her. After that, he didn’t even want to hear her name.

It was a few months after his break-up with Shanna that Samuel got a letter of acceptance to the University of Leeds on a partial scholarship to study Nanotechnology. Jude, like his parents, was immensely proud of his little brother for succeeding in something he’d never even heard of, though his heart ached terribly at the thought of Samuel moving away. He’d be alone in that cramped little room, with no one sleeping underneath him, and Samuel would be far away, where Jude wouldn’t be able to protect him. The prospect of Samuel leaving broke Jude’s heart, and it was the final straw that caused Richard Valentine’s to go into an attack.

“I can’t go…” Samuel whispered to Jude as they sat on a bench outside of the critical care unit. Helen was inside with her husband, who was still unconscious, but the boys were told to stay put.

“You can and you will…” Jude whispered back, still facing forward.

“I can’t, Dad’s sick over it, and Mum’s a mess and you…you’ll just get in more trouble without me around…” Samuel shook his head, wrapping his arms around himself. “I can’t do it. I’ll just, I’ll go to school closer to home, or I’ll take something else, I’ll stay in Brixton, and-”

“You don’t belong here, Samuel…” Jude interrupted him, turning to face his brother. “You don’t belong here surrounded by us meatheads, you belong somewhere with smart people that’ll appreciate you.”

“…you don’t either, you’re better than them, you’re nice and kind and good and…you deserve a job that doesn’t get you punched in the face. Mum and Dad deserve a house, not a little flat, and…” Samuel couldn’t stop the tears from coming now. “I’m scared, I don’t want to go…I don’t want anything to happen to the three of you when I’m gone…”

Jude couldn’t remember ever seeing Samuel worked up like this, even when their grandmother had died the year before, Samuel had only shed a few tears, but here, he was all out crying. Wrapping an arm around Samuel’s shoulders, Jude pulled him close, resting his cheek on top of his brother’s head.

“Sam,” Jude started, his own voice choked up. “You have to go, or you’ll hate us one day for holding you back. You’re going to be a famous fancy scientist, and you don’t want to waste your life and your brain on us working class. You have to do this, because it’s what you’re supposed to do. I was supposed to protect you and keep you out of all this shit so you could move on and do this, and you’re going to go if I have to tie you up and put you on the train myself.”

“But I’m going to miss you…” Samuel wept, lying his head against Jude’s shoulder.

“And I’ll miss you, but we’ll see each other again, and…” Jude chuckled softly, reaching up to gently tousle Samuel’s shaggy hair. “When you’re rich and all, I’ll be showing up on your doorstep with Mum and Dad, and you won’t be able to ever get rid of us and you’ll wonder why you ever missed us in the first place.”

“Shut up…” Samuel couldn’t help laughing through his tears. “It’s a deal, though…you looked after me here, and I’ll look after you then. I promise.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Jude smiled, blinking a few of his own tears back. “But you’re still here for a while, yet, I’m not done looking after you…I’m going to get you the rest of the money you need for school.”

“No…” Samuel protested weakly, shaking his head.

“Yes, Sam…it’s the least I can do…” Jude hugged his brother tighter. “Takes the pressure off you, and Mum and Dad. Call it a present for putting up with me sleeping over you for eighteen years. And don’t argue, I mean it, I want to do this for you.”

Samuel didn’t know what to say. He still didn’t want to leave, but Jude was right. He had to do this, and when he did, he’d get them all out of that little apartment, and away from danger. He’d give them all the life they truly deserved to have; he’d be the one to protect them from then on.

“…love you, Jude…” he whispered, sad that this was the first time he’d ever spoken those words.

“I know…love you, too, Samuel…” Jude replied, keeping a firm arm around his brother as he turned his attention back to the door in front of him, waiting for their mother to emerge. Neither brother spoke again, and by the time Helen finally came to give them the news that Richard was stable, they had fallen asleep on each other, and covered by a blanket a nurse had spread over them.

In the wake of his father’s heart attack, and his promise to his brother, Jude’s gambling went from problematic to very serious. He was no longer just gambling with the money he made from fights, but with amounts he couldn’t make in six months of solid matches. He kept swearing he’d win it all back, pay off his debt, and have enough for Sam’s schooling, but it never happened. Though the house generally had no problems letting Jude slide further into the red, even Bill Fox, the man who ran the illegal casino and organized Jude’s fights, had begun getting harsh with him. Vague threats were getting more direct, and demands for Jude to perform better, or take dives in certain fights began. But Jude didn’t tell a soul, there was no one he could bring himself to tell. His parents were too proud of his apparent success, Samuel was counting on him, and his gang mates thought he was the best thing to happen to ever happen to the Droogs. They all needed him to keep up the facade, and he couldn’t bear to let them down. He would just have to keep deal with the stack of growing lies on his own, though the increasing burden was getting more and more difficult for Jude to bear.


He was awake again, and the voices were far away now. He tried to call out to them, but there was something in his throat, and he couldn’t talk around it. He wanted to reach up and pull it out, but they’d strapped him down again.

He could only hear snatches of what the voices were saying, whether it be because they were far away, or because his brain was still foggy with drugs.

“…police want him kept alone, no visitors…”

Why? What had he done?

“…a gang member, he’s covered in tattoos. Even has a swastika over a clover on his back…stupid hair like a fan on his head, probably a neo-Nazi, I think they like those…”

Did they think he was a criminal because he was a Droog? He was a Droog, not a Nazi! He didn’t do anything! Were they keeping him here until the police came to get him?

“…whatever he is, poor boy’s suffered enough without your attitude…”

…suffered enough? Poor boy?

“….didn’t say I’d treat him badly, did I? I’m not heartless, not completely…I’ll do my job, and won’t allow visitors…”

No visitors? But, what about Sam, and Mum and Dad? What if they came to see him, would they keep them out, too?

“…don’t tell him, either, not until he’s better…”

Tell him what?

He tried to move again, to scream for their attention, but both were fruitless. He heard footsteps now, but they sounded like they were getting quieter. They were leaving him alone, bound and voiceless in this strange bed, and he didn’t know what was happening to him.

Closing his eyes, he pleaded for his Mum to come find him, to untie him and give him back his voice. He wanted her to hold him, and make the pain go away, and to tell the police he was a good boy who didn’t do anything wrong. He continued his desperate prayer until the fogginess in his brain overwhelmed him, and he passed out again.

The evening before Jude’s twenty first birthday, he’d made plans to meet up with his friends at a local pub. After a huge supper, he gave his Mum a kiss, said goodbye to his Dad, and went down to meet up with her with Samuel in tow. It wasn’t that Samuel wanted to spend the night watching Jude and his buddies carrying on, but he only had a few weeks left in Brixton, and he was trying to spend as much of the time with his brother as he could. It was something Jude appreciated greatly, as Samuel had never made an effort to be social before. To Jude’s surprise, not only did Samuel come out in the first place, he managed to stay out til midnight before calling it an evening.

“Mum’s going to have your head,” Jude laughed as Samuel stood up, wobbling on his feet a little.

“I’m drinking age, she’ll be…ah, I’ll just blame you…” Samuel smacked Jude’s shoulder lightly as his older brother stood up to head for the door as well. “You’re used to being yelled at.”

“Oh, thanks, arse,” Jude wrapped his arm around Samuel’s neck, giving him a noogie and laughing at his smaller brother’s attempts to get away. “Ah, I’ll come home in a couple hours, give her time to get really mad at someone. That should make her forget about you. You better be thankful, Sammy!”

“Don’t call me that, Judas,” Samuel pretended to act all cross as he ducked out of his brother’s grasp, but once he was clear, he turned around and gave him a smile. He was lucky, he was about the only person on Earth who could get away with using Jude’s full name.

“You two are adorable, has anyone ever told you that?” Sarah, one of the Droog girls, chuckled lowly, leaning against the doorway of the pub behind Jude. She laughed more at the goofy grin Jude shot her, while Samuel just blushed and looked down at the sidewalk.

“Just don’t be too late, Jude,” Samuel laughed, still swaying on his feet. “Remember, you’re supposed to be bailing me out.”

“I will, I will…” Jude reached over, grabbing his brother by the back of his jacket, pulling him over to kiss the top of his head. “Don’t worry so much, I’ll be there. See you in a few.”

Samuel pulled out of his brother’s grasp once again, giving him another fake grumpy look before raising his hand in a wave. “Don’t be late.” He cautioned again before turning and disappearing down the dark block.

“Come on, let’s head in…” Sarah said, dropping her cigarette and grinding it out with the heel of her boot.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," Jude laughed, nodding back towards the bar. “Fancy another pint?”

“What else would I be going in for?” she laughed, turning her back to him and heading inside.  

“Oh, shut up…” Jude said with a chuckle, following her into the dark pub; the sound of Iggy Pop and the Stooges blasting into the night.

It was almost an hour later when the two finally emerged from the Bull at Brixton, and though the Droogs had asked Jude to head out to another party with them, he declined. It was hard to say no to something as fun as a drunk, rowdy house party, but he couldn’t ignore his promise to Samuel. He gave them a promise to be there next time, and went off into the darkness on the same path his brother had taken not an hour before.

Though something was very different than it had been when Samuel came home, and when Jude rounded the corner onto their street, he knew immediately what it was. The little flat above the tailor’s shop didn’t glow with the familiar, welcoming lamp that Helen Valentine left on when her sons were out. Instead, the windows shone bright as the flames inside of the apartment devoured the only home Jude Valentine had ever known.

The scream that erupted from Jude’s lips at that moment was like no sound he’d ever made before. Though his heart was frozen inside of him, he burst into a run, ignoring the cars and people that had stop to gawk. He didn’t stop to think of calling for the fire brigade, or for asking someone for help. He couldn’t even think past the horror that was gripping him, and he didn’t hesitate to run through the door that lead upstairs to the inferno tearing apart his home. He didn’t even feel his feet touching the stairs as he ran up them, he didn’t taste the smoke in his mouth or feel it stinging his eyes, and he didn’t feel the metal doorknob burning his hand as he seized it to open the door.

As invincible as Jude was in his desperation, there was nothing he could do once the door was opened. The thick black smoke that had been contained up until that point engulfed him, filling his lungs and sending him to the floor in an unconscious heap. There was nothing he could have done; there was no way he could have stood a chance against it.

The other Valentines couldn't have, either.

He couldn’t stay awake, but he couldn’t sleep either. It seemed like every time he opened his eyes, exhaustion closed them again, but his rest did nothing to ease it. He had shifted between awake and dreaming so many times he didn’t know which one was which. Everything had the same muddled, hazy quality to it

The tube was in his throat still, making it impossible to talk. Maybe that was part of the dream, though, part of the nightmare of being alone in this bed, held back by weakness and surrounded by machines, and he couldn’t even ask anyone what was going on. He couldn’t even call out for help, or for his family, though he thought he heard his father speak a while ago. His voice was too muffled, though, and it sounded so far away, too far away to hear what he was saying.

There were other voices now, two women and a man. The first woman was the one who told him to relax; that sweet, soothing tone that reminded him of Grandmothers. The other woman didn’t sound like that, she sounded hard and cold, and he immediately wanted her to stop talking. He knew what people who had that kind of voice were like, and he didn’t want them around him. They’d just ask questions and treat him like a criminal. The man was a little different, maybe a little warmer, but he was too much like the second woman to put him at ease.

They were the police that the voices had spoken of earlier, and they were here to take him away.

He tried to get up, to grab at the tubes and wires and rip them away, diving out of the window before they could get him and drag him to some little cell. He was certain he hadn’t done anything they could hold him on, or at least, anything that had enough evidence.  And if this was about the boxing, there were bigger fish to fry in that racket, they wouldn’t pick on him, not unless they thought they were just going to get him for information.

“…need to ask him a few questions…”

Questions, yeah right. That’s how it all starts, then next thing, you’re in prison.

“…can’t talk right now…intubated…needs rest….”

There was that lovely soft voice again. The nurse would keep them away, she’d keep him safe until he saw the others.

“…we need a time when the tube will be out. We need to talk to Mr. Valentine…”

Mr. Valentine? Dad had a tube, too? What about Mum and Sam? Were they stuck down like this, too?

“…someone will contact you, patient needs rest, not stress. We can’t have you upsetting him…”

He was beginning to love this woman; this old nurse he’d never even seen before. He loved that she was safe, and she was looking after them.

“…dealing with three bodies here, we need answers…”

…what the fuck were they trying to pin him with?

“…no, you’re dealing with an injured boy that’s lost his family…”

Suddenly, everything made sense, and in the same moment of realization, an invisible hand closed around his throat. He couldn’t breathe, or scream, or cry, and the pressure to do all three made it feel as if his heart was about to burst in his chest. His vision was blurring again, the voices had disappeared, and the urge to fight for air was growing weaker.  

As everything went dark, he told himself this was a dream, and he'd wake up any second now to see them standing over him. All he had to do was sleep, and he'd see them again.

Helen Valentine always made huge meals on birthdays, cooking up all of the family’s favorite foods, and getting frustrated while she tried to fit them all on their small kitchen table. They would laugh at her, and she would swear she wasn’t going to do the same thing when the next birthday rolled around, but she always did. The entire feast would take hours, and by the end, they were all too full to move, and they’d curse themselves for eating so much, but nothing would change when the next birthday rolled around. It was all tradition, after all.

It would break her heart to know that her oldest son spent his twenty first birthday alone, lying in his hospital bed.

The next few days went by much as the first one had; with Jude sleeping as much as he possibly could. When he was awake, he did little more than stare at the doorway, waiting for his parents or his brother to come walking through, apologizing for missing his birthday and leaving him in this place for so long. Even when the nurses removed the tube from his throat, Jude wouldn’t speak, though he would shake his head when offered food or water. He didn’t even respond if they offered him condolences. When the police returned, Jude was equally quiet and uncooperative. He heard them talking about bodies, and evidence, and identification, but the words meant nothing to him. He only stared at the door behind them, waiting for someone to come through it and prove them all wrong.

As much as Jude waited and prayed, there was no such miracle. His mother didn’t come to fuss on him and apologize while his father asked when he’d be up and ready to fight again. There was no Samuel to tell Jude he was an idiot to just barge into a burning apartment instead of calling the fire brigade. There was only Sarah, who Jude had the nurses turn away before she could even get close to his doorway. As lonely as Jude felt, he couldn’t bring himself to accept her company. He didn’t want to hear her tell him she was sorry, because that meant this was all real, and he didn’t need his last speck of optimism destroyed.

It was on his fourth day after the fire that he got his first visitor, and his last shred of hope died.


“…excuse me, you can’t go in that room, ma’am!”

It was his favorite nurse again, looking out for him. He didn’t even have to tell her what he wanted, she just knew.

“There’s a door leading into it, I think I can manage the rest.”

…he knew that voice…

“He doesn’t want visitors; he’s not in any state to entertain.”

No, he wasn’t. He didn’t want to see anyone but his family.

“I’m not here to entertain him. I’m here to give him his parent’s things, and I’m not leaving until I do.”

He couldn’t do this; he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want their things, they didn’t belong to him, they belonged to his Mum and Dad. What was she doing with them?

“Perhaps you can just leave them, and he-“

“Nonsense. I’m an old woman and I didn’t come all the way up here to make a delivery. Jude will see me whether he wants to or not!”

He didn’t want to hear her lies, he didn’t want whatever she had. Those weren’t her things to be giving out, Mum and Dad would be furious. They’d give her a good piece of their minds the second they arrived.

He heard the footsteps coming closer, and he closed his eyes, pretending to sleep.


Rita Norwood had been the sole proprietor of J & R Brixton Tailors since her husband’s death in 1983, the same year she became the landlady of Richard and Helen Valentine. A cold woman by reputation, she was always clad in black with a feathered black hat, and a silver tipped cane she liked to shake at everyone and everything. She earned the nickname Granny Doom from Jude when he was five, and it quickly caught on around the neighborhood, though only little Jude ever called her that to her face. Despite her frosty disposition, Rita was also known to be a fair woman, and, up to the day she lost her tenants and her business, she was also known as one of the best people you could have possibly worked for or lived under.

True to her word, Rita took a seat in Jude’s room and didn’t move an inch as the boy pretended to sleep. She merely took out her crocheting, working on a doily as she kept her eyes on him. She was a sharp old thing, and though her hearing was starting to falter, there was nothing wrong with her brain. She knew a fake when she saw one.

Her patience paid off almost an hour after she entered the room when Jude cracked his eyelids to see how long she’d been sitting there.

“Almost an entire hour, I don’t think I’ve seen you stay that still for that long, I’m impressed,” Rita said crisply, tucking her doily and hook away. “Now are you through playing games? I haven’t got all day, you know, I have to go to the insurance office after this to talk about what’s left of my shop.”

Jude just looked at her, blinking. He still didn’t want to speak, he felt no urge to. Simply put, he had nothing to say.

“Still and silent, my my,” Rita clucked her tongue. “This isn’t the little devil I remember, is it? All the fire’s been taken out of you, I’m afraid; you look a mess, boy. Well, never you mind, you don’t have to say a word for this.”

She got up slowly, picking up a medium sized box and carrying it over to Jude’s bedside, setting it down beside him.

“You probably know your father never trusted the banks, he kept everything of value in my fireproof safe downstairs,” Rita explained, patting the box. “Now this is all that’s left, everything else is nothing but dust, but at least you have this. Good news is you don’t have to deal with nasty paperwork and wills, either. As far as anyone knows, this was given to me in trust, and now I’m giving it to its rightful owner.”

Picking up her purse, she reached into it, taking out her wallet and pulling a small stack of notes from it. She set them on top of the box, placing a couple of coins on top of them.

“This is your parent’s last month’s rent, and the wages I owed your mother. As neither they, nor the apartment, exist any more, it seems wrong of me to keep it. I’ll add it to the estate, which only consists of the box and it’s contents.” Rita looked down at Jude, who was staring at the box and money with wide eyes.  “You weren’t expecting a hidden fortune, were you?”

Jude looked up at Rita, shaking his head slowly as days worth of tears began to well up. This was it; his parents, his brother, his home, it was all gone, and everything that remained of them now fit in a box no bigger than a case of beer. He’d never see them again, never hear or touch them, or tell them that he loved them. They wouldn’t laugh at his jokes, or comfort him when he needed them, and he wouldn’t be able to do the same for them. All the big things in life, and all the little things, thoughts of everything that was gone, and everything that would never happen flew into Jude’s mind, overwhelming him. Though, it wasn’t until one in particular surfaced that the dam finally broke.

Samuel would never get to graduate.

“…Sam…” Jude choked as the tears began to pour down his cheeks. His first sobs came out only as gasps, his throat and chest still raw from the smoke, but he didn’t notice the pain. “Oh fuck…no…not Sam…”

“They’ve identified them all by dental records, Samuel too,” Rita said quietly, her voice a little softer. “They’re gone, Jude, I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t speak any more after that; there weren’t words for what was going through his mind. His hand slowly reached out to touch the box, and the feeling of the smooth cardboard under his fingertips only made the tears come faster. It was really there in front of him, and this was really happening. Everything in his life up until this moment was now nothing more than an old white box with a few hundred pounds on it.

With shaking hands, he pulled the notes and coins from the top, and carefully opened the lid. He reached down inside, almost afraid of what he would find, and terrified of what he wouldn’t find, all the things he needed that wouldn’t be there. Blindly reaching around, his hand closed first on a stack of papers at the bottom, extracting them with the same care as if he was handling explosive that were about to go off.

When he finally caught a glimpse of what the papers were, his expression turned from one of grief to complete and utter disbelief and horror. He wanted to scream, to throw up, to rip everything to shreds and toss himself from the window behind him. Seconds ago, he had no idea that things could possibly get worse, and now that they had, he wanted nothing more than for this to be over.

“Dear boy, what’s wrong?” Rita had seen the papers Jude took out, as well as his reaction to them, and she was genuinely surprised by it. “Surely Richard and Helen told you that you were adopted?”


Dear Richard and Helen Valentine,

My name is Elsa Schulmann, and, if no one told you, I’m the birth mother of your sons. I don’t know if you’ll read this letter, but I honestly do want to thank you for taking my boys, both of them, so they could stay together. I don’t know what Adam would have done without Samuel, he adores him so much. He is a very good big brother, I hope that hasn’t changed for you. I hope they are both the good little boys I knew for so short a time.

I don’t know what you named them now, but I really do hope you got my note about Samuel’s name. That was my grandfather’s name, and he was a great man, it was important to me to pass that on. I hope you kept it for him, but I bear you no ill will if you did not. I also wonder if you kept Adam’s name, though I never asked you to. I am just curious sometimes, but I’m sure you understand. It is also important to me to tell you I’m not upset that you aren’t raising them to be Jewish, as I’m sure you’re raising them to be good, strong men, and that is most important to me.

I truly want you to know that I don’t bear you any ill will. The boys are much better off with you, I’m not a good enough mother to care for them. I love them, but that isn’t enough, especially after their father left. I am not stable, and I’m thankful that I realized that before either of them got hurt. I’m sure they are happy with you, and that they have everything they need. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for loving my babies. They were my world, I hope they are yours now.

Sincerely,
Elsa Schulmann

P.S. If they ever find out about me, just tell them I loved them, that’s why I gave them to you.


Despite the tears obscuring his vision, Jude read the letter again and again, his hands trembling so much he could barely hold the paper. He felt like he was going to be sick, but there was nothing in his stomach to expel. How could this be happening? When was it going to be over? When were they going to come jumping out, laughing that he’d fallen for all of this?

“I told Helen she should have told you,” Rita grumbled, leaning on her cane as she looked out the window. “No shame in it, I said, they’ll love you all the same. It’s not as if you two would run off to Germany or lord knows to find her, not that you could, she put a bullet in her brain after she wrote that letter. But you two were loyal, nothing would have changed.”

Jude sat frozen in his bed, his heartbeat thundering in his chest the only thing reminding him he was still alive. They were gone, and she was gone. He didn’t even know her, but knowing she was dead made the pain worse. He felt betrayed, angry at his Mum and Dad for keeping this from them, but his grief only served to remind him that he would never see them again.

“…what am I going to do…?” Jude whispered, letting the letter fall from his hands onto the stiff hospital blankets as he wrapped his arms around himself, shivering.

“What are you going to do?” Rita repeated, though she doubted the boy had actually been speaking to her. “There are lots of things you can do at this point. You can do the bloody stupid thing and go challenge Bill Fox and ask him if he had anything to do with this, but that would end up with you dead, and him still on top now, wouldn’t it?”

She watched as Jude’s eyes opened wider in horror, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. It would seem that Jude was slower to coming to conclusions than she’d given him credit for.

“You honestly didn’t think of that, did you?” Rita said, annoyance in her voice. “You Droogs, or whatever you call yourself…you think you’re a tough bunch, but you’re nothing but a tank full of guppies. A feeding ground for sharks like Fox and his men. They pull you in, and they let you play, but on their terms, and they’re quick to punish when you step out of line. You got in with him, and now look at yourself, boy. No family, no home, not even enough quid for a car to sleep in.

“All you’ve done your whole life is what everyone wanted you to, and it’s gotten you nowhere. Problem is, everyone around you didn’t know what was best for you, and now they’ve left you and you’re lost. You were quick to listen to anyone, but Samuel. He was the only one of your lot that had any sense, and now he’s gone. You’ve got no one to listen to now, Judas Valentine, so you best learn to start listening to yourself,” Rita lectured, not caring that the man in front of her was nothing more than a sobbing, brokenhearted wreck. “And don’t think to go running to your friends; they’re as much in his pocket as you are, they’ll turn you over in a heartbeat.”

“But I don’t know what to do! I have no where to go, and nothing, and…” Jude couldn’t stop crying, choking as he tried to gasp for air.

“You have your life, and that’s a damn sight more than your brother and parents have, so don’t you go wasting it!” Rita snapped, the tip of her cane raising off the floor and pointing in Jude’s face. “If you have a single ounce of sense in that head of yours, you will tell the police what you know, give them as much as you can on Fox, and you will get as far from here as that money will take you! You might be scared, and angry, but neither of those things will make a lick of difference, because neither of those things will bring your family back, or stop him from doing this to someone else! But you have to do this alone, because I’ll be damned if you’ll bring me into this. I brought you your box, gave you your money, and I’ll pay to have your family’s remains cremated as a last favor to your Mum, but I won’t die over you!”

She put her cane back down as she made her way back over to the chair to grab her purse and crochet tote. Taking a few deep breaths, she turned back to Jude, her heart softening a little at the sight of him. Once the cock of the walk, the tough neighborhood prince, and now he was nothing more than a pathetic, crying child. The same child she had stood up for during his christening, though the years had transformed that angelic blond toddler into a delinquent young man.

“When you’ve found a place, send a card to my address with your own in it, I’ll see that your parents and brother’s remains are sent to you,” Rita said softly, gathering her things. “You’re not a bad boy, Judas, you’re gullible, and you’ve been misled. But now you just have to look into yourself and figure out what needs to be done.”

Jude could barely think as he watched Rita get ready to leave. She was asking him to look into himself, and he didn’t even know where to start. Only minutes ago, he was Judas John Valentine, son of Richard and Helen, a British Protestant, and now…the letter said his name was Adam Schulmann, his mother was Elsa, and apparently he was a German Jew. He didn’t know what to believe, and every person that could answer his questions, and maybe give him some sort of comfort, was dead.

“…how do I do that when…I don’t know who I am?” Jude wept, clutching the blankets around him tightly for some semblance of an embrace.

Rita paused at the door, turning slowly to face Jude, the harshness gone from her features.

“Child…” she said slowly, her eyes shining with a few tears of her own as she raised her hand in a final wave. “Few people in this world are blessed with knowing just who they are. You will find a way, just like the rest of us. Goodbye, Judas, and good luck.”

With that, the last person Jude had ever felt love for left the room, and his life. He was utterly alone.  


Dear Samuel,

Your ashes came today. I took them, and Mum and Dad’s, out of the box that Rita sent them in, and I stared at them for the longest time because I still can’t believe that’s all that’s left of you. It’s been almost two months, and it still seems so unreal. I thought getting the ashes would be what finally make me accept it, but I guess not. Maybe it’ll happen when I finally get you all buried with a proper headstone, or maybe I never will.

I hate that you’re just kept in a box now, but I’ve not got a cent to spare, I’m still in a shit motel, still eating jars of peanut butter and washing the same socks over and over in the sink. I had some money, but I got the Droog tattoo covered up with it. All I could think is that you’d be so happy, you always thought it looked stupid, and you were right, Sam. You were right about a lot of shit, and I couldn’t see it. I got another tattoo, too…it’s a cross with all your names on it, sort of like a monument until I get the real one. I think you’d like it, it’s right classy, not like the others.

My voice is still weird from inhaling that smoke; the doctor said it might happen, so I suppose I’m just going to sound like this from now on. It sounds to me like I always have a bit of a sore throat, but I’ve actually gotten compliments on it. People say it sounds like my voice has a bit of a purr to it, but I think they’re fucking nuts. I keep thinking you’d laugh at it, or tell me it served me right for being so careless. Then again, you didn’t think I have a sexy accent like everyone here seems to.

I still keep an eye on the British news whenever I can, hoping to hear about Fox and any of those guys getting arrested. The detectives I spoke to seemed to think it would happen, they were excited for everything I was telling them. I was scared the entire time, up until I got out of England, but once I got to America, I finally felt like that was the right thing. Those people weren’t my friends, and I had to do it so no one else got hurt. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that.

I feel selfish being scared for my life because you lost yours, I feel so, so very guilty. I know it’s probably nothing, but I’ve thought that maybe what I could do is adopt a boy one day, name him Samuel after you, and make sure he grows up good and smart. I want my life to mean something, even though it’ll never replace yours. I’m so, so sorry, little brother, I never meant this to happen to you. I love you, and I miss you, and I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you like I promised.

Look after Mum and Dad for me. I know you’re all together, and I hope our mother’s found you, too. I don’t want any of you to be alone.  

Love Always, Your Big Brother,
Jude


Jude set his pen aside, ignoring the quiet voices on the television as he read over his letter again. After deciding that it was satisfactory, he carefully folded it twice, slipping it inside of an envelope he’d labeled with his brother’s name. Getting up off the motel bed that also served as his dinner table, desk, and couch, he gave the glue strip a quick swipe of his tongue before pressing the envelope shut.

“Bet my teachers would die knowing I wrote something on purpose, eh, Sam?” Jude chuckled quietly, walking over to the little table in front of the window, where the box with the ashes sat. “Bet they didn’t think I knew how…”

There were a few other things from the box Rita had delivered sitting around it as well, making up a bit of a shrine in the small room. There were pictures he’d found, ones of himself and Sam throughout the years, of the family all together on holidays and vacations, smiling and having fun. Samuel’s acceptance letter to University sat next to the letter from Elsa Schulmann, and between them sat Richard and Helen’s marriage certificate. The space in front of the box, however, was reserved for a small stack of envelopes like the one in his hand. One was addressed to Elsa, a few each for Helen and Richard, but most of them bore Samuel’s name.

He wasn’t sure what had made him write that first letter, but It was the only thing he’d found to help him cope, but it helped immensely. It eased his guilt, and his loneliness, and it was his last connection to the first twenty one years of his life. No one here knew who Jude Valentine was, but they did. They’d known him, and they still loved him anyway.  He couldn’t help but feel that they would be the only ones who would, sometimes, that maybe this solitude was punishment for not keeping them safe.

It was one of the many questions about himself that kept Jude awake some nights, staring into the darkness around him. But no matter how many tears he shed, or hours he spent pacing the room, feeling sick and afraid, he still got up every morning to face the world. He still smiled, and laughed, and did things that made him happy. He made sure he still lived his life; it was what they would have wanted, though now he was doing it without expectations and lies. He was finally doing things his way, and he couldn’t help but think Samuel would have liked that.

“Miss you…” Placing the letter down on top of the stack, Jude smiled weakly through the tears that were streaming down his face. “I’m going to make you proud of me…”

His smile not wavering, he picked his jacket up off the back of the chair beside him, slipping it on and checking for his key. Wiping his eyes, and giving a little wave towards the table, he walked out the door, and down the snow covered street. He didn’t know where he was going, but he figured he’d know when he got there.