Death in the Freezer by Tim Vicary - Death in the Freezer by Tim Vicary | Текст песни

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• Death in the Freezer by Tim Vicary
• Death in the Freezer by Tim Vicary

CHAPTER ONE

Baby Al

I killed a dead man. That's why I'm in prison.

The dead man was my brother, Al. He was born six years after me, and I always hated him, even when he was a baby. Before he was born, my parents loved me. My father carried me on his back, and took me swimming. My mother bought me lots of dolls, and we played with them together. I have seen the photos. My parents took a lot of photos of me, in my first six years. I still have the photos, in a book.

But then Al was born. I have a photo of him, too, as a baby in the hospital, here in Los Angeles. My mother is holding him, and looking at him with a big smile on her face. My father has his arm round my mother, and he is smiling at baby Al, too. Al is holding his daddy's finger.

And me? Where am I in this picture? I am standing by myself, beside the bed, watching them. There is a strange smile on my face. I think. I am happy, but I'm not sure. And no one is looking at me.

It was always like that, after Al was born. He was a boy, and that was important to my parents - and very important to my Dad. Most of the photos in the book are of Al. Al eating baby food, Al learning to walk, Al on my Dad's back, Al playing football, Al swimming, Al running, Al having a big party with his friends.

A hundred photos of Al, and five or ten of me.

Of course, my parents played with me sometimes, took me swimming, bought me clothes. But they weren't interested in me. Before Al was born, they spent a lot of time with me. After he was born, they didn't.

Often, I played hospitals with my dolls. I played that the dolls were sick, and I was a nurse. When the dolls had bad stomachs, I gave them medicine to take. Sometimes I pulled their arms and legs off and put tomatoes on them, to look like blood. And sometimes I gave them drugs. That was the best of all. My mother gave me an old syringe, and I put water in it and pushed it into the dolls. Soon the dolls were full of holes.

'That's a good game for a little girl,' my mother said. But she didn't understand. Because in my game, all the dolls were boys, like Al. And they never got better. They were sick for a very long time, and then they died. I put them in a hole in the ground, in the garden.

When I was ten, my mother died. My father was unhappy, and began to drink a lot. Sometimes he came home with strange women, but he didn't marry any of them. I think the women didn't like him, because he drank so much. When he wasn't drunk, he played with Al. So I had more time alone.

I was a good girl at school, and I was beautiful too, so I had a lot of boyfriends. My father hated them. 'You stay away from those boys, Ellen!' he shouted. 'It's not right. I don't want them in my house!'

'Why not, Dad?' I asked. 'You bring your women here, don't you? Why can't I bring my boyfriends?'

'Shut up, girl!' he shouted. He was very angry. Sometimes he hit me, and once I had to go to the hospital.

So what did Al do, you ask? Him? Nothing. He just watched, and laughed, and played football with Dad.

Then I met John. He was twenty-two years old, and big and strong like Arnold Schwarzenegger. All the girls thought he was wonderful. One day he asked me to go to a party with him - me! I was very excited, so I went home, and put on my best clothes and shortest skirt, to look nice for him. Then I heard John's motorbike and went downstairs. Dad was at the door.

'Where are you going?' he asked.

'Out,' I smiled at him. 'With my new boyfriend.'

'Oh no, you're not!' he said. 'Not in that skirt. You're only eighteen, Ellen. I know what boys want.'

'I don't care,' I said. I pushed past him, but he pulled my arm. I screamed, and he hit my face.

Then John came. He was wonderful! He took Dad's arms, held them by his side, and pushed him slowly back into the house. Dad couldn't do anything! John sat him down in a chair, then walked out and put his arms round me. Right there, in front of the house!

Then we rode away on his motorbike.

CHAPTER TWO

Wilds Boys

I never went home again. That night I stayed in John's apartment, and three months later I knew that I was going to have his baby. But I lost that baby at five months, and soon I went back to finish my training as a nurse. Four years later, I had another baby, and this one was born all right. Now I'm twenty-nine, and I have three small kids.

But I'm not really happy. John is a good-looking man, a wonderful lover, but. . . I'm not his only woman. I know he has two other girlfriends, and both of them have babies. Maybe there are more. Sometimes I don't see him for weeks, and then he comes back and smiles and tries to be nice to me, but I still get angry. He doesn't have a real job and we have very little money. I work as a nurse in a hospital, but I don't get much for that. And I have to pay half of it to someone to look after my kids while I'm at work.

Dad died four years ago. Al told me about it. 'Dad had a heart attack,' he said. 'He was really angry about John, so he began running to try to get stronger. But he didn't stop drinking. Then one day he drank half a bottle of whisky, went for a run, came home, and fell down dead on the floor!'

Al laughed. How strange, I thought. Dad loved Al, but when he died, Al laughed. Perhaps men are just animals, really, not people like us.

When Dad was dead, I saw Al more often. I didn't like him much, but he was my only family. Sometimes we went swimming together with the kids, or out for a pizza. John didn't like me to talk to other men, but Al was OK, because he was my brother.

When Al was eighteen, he began a rock band, \"Wild Boys\". He sang, and played guitar. At first they played in small restaurants, and then they made a record. Lots of people bought it. The band began to play in front of thousands of people. They made three more records, and travelled all over the world. It was wonderful. By the time he was twenty, my little brother Al was famous, and rich.

He was very, very rich. He bought a yellow Rolls-Royce, a Jaguar, a Porsche, and a house in the best part of Los Angeles with fifteen bedrooms, a tennis court, a swimming pool, and a view over the sea. And he gave me our parents' house.

That was nice, but it wasn't very nice. I mean, our parents' house is very old. It has three small bedrooms, a small garden, and is in a noisy, dirty street. It's better than my old apartment, but still...

I went to see Al often. He gave me a key, to get in and out of his house. And I cooked for him when he had big parties there. I enjoyed the parties. John came too. There were famous people, wonderful food and music, lots of drink and drugs.

Drugs. Yes, well, the drugs were a bad thing. Al got much too interested in drugs. A lot of his friends took drugs - and my John did, too. And when they were on drugs, they often didn't know what day it was. They did crazy things. I remember one party when they went for a midnight swim down at the beach. The boys took all John's clothes away while he was still in the sea, and drove away with them. So John had to walk back through the streets in the middle of the night, all wet from the sea, while we laughed at him from the car. He was so angry! I thought that was really funny, but John didn't talk to me for a week!

But Al and his friends took more and more drugs, and the music began to get worse. Sometimes Al was still in bed at four o'clock in the afternoon. And when he did get up, he looked very sick. He was thin, his face was white, and he didn't want to eat anything. He asked me to help him.

'You're a nurse, Ellen,' he said. 'I feel sick. Give me some medicine or something! Help me!'

'You don't need medicine,' I said. 'You need a lot of good food, swimming, and no more drugs!'

'Who do you think you are, Ellen?' he said. 'My mother or something?'

'No, but I am your sister, and a nurse,' I said. 'Listen to me. I'm going to get you some medicine to help you stop the drugs, and I'm going to cook you a good meal every day. But you must stop the drugs. Try it, Al! It works - I know it does!'

He did try it, and it helped. After two or three months Al was stronger and happier, and he began to play good music again. He was pleased; he trusted me. Sometimes, in the evenings, he took me and my kids to the beach. We had a meal and drank and went swimming together, and had a good time. Those few months with my brother were a good time in my life.

'Now, at last,' I thought, 'my brother likes me. He's happy and healthy because of me. Maybe he can help me - give me money, buy me a new car and a nice house, take me to Europe with him.'

But of course I was wrong. No one ever gives me anything.

CHAPTER THREE

The tour

'I'm going away on a tour,' Al said one day. 'All around the USA and Europe, to play music, for four months.'

I looked at him and thought, he's going to ask me to come too. I can see the world, bring my kids. 'Wonderful!' I said. 'We can...'

'When I'm away, I want you to

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