Making an attempt to post my story

Chapter 1

Thirty-two-year-old Robert Manning stepped down on the grounds of Washington DC for the first time in more than a decade. He took a good look around him to familiarise himself with any new changes that had occurred while he was gone.

Seems pretty much the same to me, he thought.

He picked up his luggage from the check-out terminal and made his way to the airport’s exit. He made a quick stop at a counter to rent a limousine and then walked out the automated glass doors only to be greeted by the city’s icy winter winds. He stood at the edge of the roadside and waited for his limousine to arrive. As he waited, his mind wandered back to his past, when the word “luxury” was an understatement as to describing limos.

Little Bobby lived in a neighbourhood where every man fended for himself. People in his area lived either in small, crummy flats or out on the streets, received no academic education but were street-smart and learned survival skills by the “monkey see, monkey do” rule. Where he lived, you had no friends if you were not “cool” and to be “cool”, you had to perform what was “in”, and even that depended on the gang you wanted to join.

Bobby’s family was small. It only consisted of his father, his mother, his younger brother and himself. His father was a large, burly man, an alcoholic and an abuser. His mother enjoyed gambling their belongings away. Late every night for a good many years, Bobby would listen to his parents’ conversations. More often than not, their conversations would always turn ugly and his father would throw Bobby’s mother around the house. Bobby hated to listen to the yelling, swearing and beating, but unlike his brother who would cower away and cry, Bobby felt emotionless.

He was used to the fights.

He could not care less anymore.

Manning watched a large, black Mercedes with heavily tinted windows pull up next to him. A neatly dressed, very young-looking chauffeur stepped out and offered to assist him with baggage. He allowed the chauffeur to load his bags into the trunk of the car while he sat comfortably in the back seat of the Mercedes. Once the chauffeur sat in his seat and was buckled up, he asked for Manning’s destination. Manning gave him his new home address and they were on their way.

“You’re from the Outback, sir?” the chauffeur asked, trying to make a friendly conversation.

Though Manning would hardly describe Melbourne as a remote area, as the word “outback” is defined, he nodded and replied, “Yeah, that’s right. I’m guessing my accent gave it away.”

The chauffeur laughed. “First time in DC?”

“Nope, I used to live here. Migrated to Australia twelve years ago.” Didn’t think I’d ever be coming back, he added silently.

“What brings you back, then?”

“Got a better job offer,” Manning answered simply.

“Interesting,” the chauffeur said. “What do you work as?”

“I’m a surgeon.”

“Right. Well, sorry for being so nosy, sir, I’m sure you’ve had a real tiring flight. Shall I scroll up the partition?”

“That’ll be nice.”

Once the sliding glass that divided the front and back of the limousine’s interior space was up, Manning welcomed the sweet silence that surrounded him. The flight was tiring and his eyelids were heavy from the lack of sleep he had the night before as a result of last-minute packing.

Ten years of hardship helped develop a natural intuition for trouble in Bobby. That together with a typical child’s curiosity stirred awake on the night of the murder, and he crept silently out of his room, towards the loud voices in the kitchen. He watched his parents’ shadows plastered against the wall move about violently as they screamed at each other. Then his father’s shadow picked up an object, and that was followed by his mother’s pleas of surprise, fear and mercy. Bobby walked on until he reached the kitchen’s doorway. There, he froze, his mind mesmerized as he stared at the bloodiest, goriest scene he had ever witnessed of a man attacking a woman with a chopping knife. Childhood fears once again haunted him as he stood, immobilized, with a blank mind hypnotized by the scene. If he had been quicker, he could have gone out of sight before his father looked up, but in his frozen condition, he was spotted. His father’s blood-splattered face and craze-filled eyes made young Bobby’s blood turn cold and he felt something warm trickle down his legs.
“What have I told you, all these years, about pissing yourself, boy?!” his father roared, standing up menacingly. “I’ll show you what happens to stupid boys who wet themselves…"

Manning frowned and shoved the memory away. He had a great life now - he did not need to reflect on his past life anymore. He figured a little shut-eye would do him some good, so he leaned back comfortably and closed his eyes. He was asleep within minutes.

“Uh, excuse me, sir?” a voice jolted Manning awake. “We’ve arrived at your destination.”

Manning shook his head to wake himself up and apologised, “Sorry, I must’ve dozed off.”

“That’s okay, sir,” the chauffeur assured. “These limos are so comfortable, it happens all the time.”

The chauffeur left his seat, unloaded Manning’s baggage and set the bags in front of the apartment’s front door. Manning reached into his pocket and took out a fifty-dollar bill. When he handed it to the chauffeur, the lad refused almost immediately.
“I can’t take that, sir, we’re not allowed to receive tips,” he explained. He added with a nervous laugh, “And even if we were, that’s a pretty huge tip there, I can’t possibly take it.”

Manning smiled and pretended to understand. He thanked the chauffeur for his help and reached for his bags. Just as the chauffeur turned around to leave, Manning skilfully slipped the fifty dollars into his back pocket. He carried his bags into the apartment lobby with a smug grin on his face, pleased that the pick-pocketing skills he had acquired at a tender age had not yet left him.