“You’re a disgusting pig,” she said, looking at Benny for reassurance. But the bigger man just sat there with his head pulled back, eyes tightly closed, deeply breathing with a slim smile on his face.
“Benny?” she asked. He barely waved a hand, as if dismissing her.
Little girl.
The smile on Giles’ face widened into a wicked grin.
“You and me,” he whispered, his eyes narrowing and staring directly at her chest. He pulled his hand towards his crotch, fondling for a second. “You and me,” he repeated, then nodded towards Benny, “and him too.”
“You’re both filthy pigs,” Megan spat, standing up. As she stomped between them, she felt her blood pumping heavily in every vein as adrenaline and fear rushed around her body. She quickened her step, moving upward and away from the pair.
She could feel blood pulsating in her temples, her face flushing crimson, as she climbed two, sometimes three steps at a time.
I have to get out of this hole. Giles is a fucking animal. But Benny? From the start of this… this, whatever this thing was, she’d trusted him.
God, she needed him.
Benny had been the only barrier between her and… She tried to put the thought out of her mind, but there was nowhere for it to go. Her anger had stripped away any hiding place for even the most horrifying of thoughts.
Benny was the only barrier between her and Giles. The guy was unhinged.
Without Benny, she realised as she continued upward, she was completely alone.
“You fucking bastard, Benny,” Megan shouted down, feeling bile rising in her mouth and spitting it down the way she had come. She wiped the drops of spittle away from her mouth.
“Fucking men,” she shouted. “Every one of you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.” She was shouting aloud what she often said in her dreams.
To her Dad.
She looked above her, but saw only more steps. Steps, steps, steps. She was going to get attacked by these guys and there’ll be no one to even hear her scream. No one to help. No way to fight them off.
“No,” she screamed. “No. Oh, Jesus, no.”
The anger was unbearable, and she felt the panic. The deep black panic of the black bin, the same blind panic of when the lights first went off. It hit her in crashing wave after wave. She hammered on the tiles above the bannister. She rushed with pleasure as shooting pains shot up her arms and as her palms connected with the cold ceramic.
She turned around, rage and hysteria having fully taken hold, and steadied herself against the bannister. She kicked out at the centre of the spiral, first with one bare foot and then another.
“You fucking, fucking bastards,” she screamed. “I have to get out of here.”
“I,” she kicked, “have”, kick again, “to”, kick, “get out”. She watched with satisfaction as blood leaked through her grubby tights. Better. Pain and release in equal measure.
She span around on her bloodied, thinly covered feet and grabbed the iron rail with both hands. She let out a scream and yanked on the rail with all of her strength. Nothing moved. She yanked again, then again, screeching obscenities at the top of her voice with every pull. She could see her fingers turning white at the pressure and felt deep grooves forming in her palms where they pulled and pushed the metal.
Yank. Yank. Again, it felt good. She felt control. A focus for her rushing pulse.
“You fucking bastard.” She was addressing the rail, then the tiles, then the steps, the dark, the spiral, the world. Her own father. She stopped and looked at her hands. They were white with deep red lines across them.
“Oh, please someone help me.” Her words were slower now. The words mumbled through tears that welled up, enveloping the anger and helping it to dissipate. Her panic ebbed away, to be replaced by only vacant despair.
“Oh God,” she cried, turning and sitting down onto a step, not caring about the pain as her backside hit the tough concrete. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
Megan drew her legs up to her chest, tucking her bloodied feet towards her as tightly as she could. She plunged her head between her legs and threw her arms over her neck, grasping them together over her shoulders, pulling her whole body deeper in. As she sobbed, she tried to pull herself into such a tight ball that it might crush itself. Draw into itself so tightly, so small that it would simply disappear. Rubbed out like a disappearing star. Leaving this. Leaving it all behind.
Megan sat in her tight ball, the tears now streaming freely from her tightly closed eyes and dripping onto the concrete below. She could feel her heartbeat slow and she rocked on the step in time with its beats, trying to gather some comfort from the rhythm, trying to find that baby-like calm an infant sometimes finds when held close and rocked by a parent.
Megan’s panic attack calmed. All that was left were deep tears of loss and grief.
Megan didn’t remember that ever happening. Being rocked by a parent. Or even hugged.
Rachel’s parents would have hugged her. Consoled her about the WhatsApp bullying. They may even have encouraged her to be in touch with Megan again.
Or maybe Rachel’s dear parents suspected what Megan herself thought. She envied Rachel. Pictured her as girl perfect. A warm and giving home life. Freedom. Good looks and intelligence. She had everything that Megan didn’t.
Even now, Megan wasn’t sure. She wasn’t clear. She wasn’t absolutely certain that she hadn’t sent that WhatsApp message on purpose.
She thought of Dad and The Apprentice. Was she really a sneaky, treacherous, bad ass bitch like the women on that show?
The one who ended up on top, whatever the cost?
31
Giles watched Megan come down the stairs and rejoin the group. She sat above Benny, keeping her legs curved and sideways, as if she was shielding herself from them both.
You’re a shit, Giles. You’re a waste of space.
Benny was dozing again, the coke having satisfied something in him, allowing him to pass out.
Giles was rocking slightly on his step. Like he was shivering slightly.
“Sorry, sorry, Megan, like sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you, Megan. Sorry.”
You fucking worthless piece of shit.
“Are you okay Giles,” Megan said, looking down at the floor, clearly avoiding looking him in the eye.
“Yes, yes… just, I guess, just the comedown. Always makes me a bit. I don’t know, shaky.”
Giles nibbled on his nails. Scratched his teeth against his lips.
Worthless. Wannabe. Lightweight. Rapist.
“I’m not,” Giles shouted.
“What, you’re not okay?”
“Not, not, not.” His eyes were twitching. His neck was ticcing.
Filthy fucking whore. Good-for-nothing husband.
“Giles,” said Megan more loudly, trying to smooth out her fear into a soothing tone.
“‘Sokay, ‘sokay,” he said. “My drugs. I’ve missed them.”
Benny woke and sat up. Giles watched the two chatting.
“Benny, he’s gone weird.”
“Hey, man, you alright down there?”
“Yes, yes. Just medicine. Run out.”
Needy, crazy bastard.
“Run out of coke?” said Benny.
Giles shivered. And ticced.
“Wait,” Megan whispered to Benny.
She spoke gently: “Giles, do you take medicine? A prescription.”
Giles nodded, wrapping his arms around himself.
“‘Sokay, need to sleep, need to calm down.”
Disabled twat. Can’t do without his pills.
“Is it epilepsy, Giles? Or ticcing? Tourettes? Are you missing your medication?”
Giles rocked back and forward. He nodded.
“Bi-polar,” he said.
Say it, say it, you pansy. Tell them we’re here. Let us out, you freaking mental case.
“Voices,” he said. “Mental. Mental.”
“It’s okay,” Benny said to Megan. “I�
��ve seen this before. Cold turkey. He’s on some kind of medication, and he’s run out down here. I should have seen it a mile away. The coke has turned his mind to mush without his meds.”
“Giles, can you hear me?” said Benny.
“Yep, yep.”
Big man. Boss man.
“Great, listen mate, we’re going to look after you, right? Do you have any more medication with you?”
Giles shook his head.
“Okay, you need to sleep, okay? Relax. Do you have any cigarettes left?”
Giles pulled one out. His hands shook. He flicked his lighter several times. His hands too shaky to get it lit. Finally, he got a flame, touched the tip and drew deeply on the cigarette.
“That’s it, mate, enjoy the fag. Concentrate on the cigarette.”
His hands stopped shaking as he drew the smoke into his lungs, and the nicotine flowed through his bloodstream.
They all sat in silence while he finished it.
“That’s it now, Giles. Sleep for a while, eh? Have a decent sleep.”
Giles put his head against his arm and lowered himself down onto the step.
Ah, spoil sport. We’ll be back, though. You know we will. We all need to get out of this place. And you know, don’t you Giles, you know there’s only one way to free them?
“How’s your foot?”
“Stiff, but not so painful now.”
“Would you like me to?”
Megan asked, only after looking towards Giles who was now passed out on the steps with nearly a full twist below them.
“That would be good, Megan.”
She moved down from her position above the man until she reached foot level. Like she had the day before, she gently lifted his foot into her lap. He lifted his thigh to help.
Benny winced, but relaxed again once his heel was planted firmly on her upper knees.
She didn’t know what she was doing. She’d never had a professional massage in her life, and certainly didn’t need one. That’s all posh girl stuff, her Dad would say, nothing better than getting out there for a walk or doing a hard day’s graft.
Megan took Benny’s calf muscle and squeezed it gently, finding sinews and attempting to run stiff fingers down them.
Benny groaned a little, a mix between pain and satisfaction. Perhaps some pleasure.
“How’s that feel Benny?”
“It feels good, thank you.”
She continued, inventing the squeezes and pushes and pressure points as she went along.
Apart from occasional winces, Benny hummed and nodded his head in all the right places.
“Can I ask you something, Benny? If it’s not too personal?”
“Not sure we can get much more personal,” the man said.
“It’s just that, well, you seem so at ease down here. You’ve seen me and Giles. Charles too. It’s been wild for us. But you’ve been, well, so comfortable.”
Benny took a deep breath. It seemed to Megan she’d pushed too far. And then Benny spoke.
“Two months ago I was living in prison.”
Megan nodded. She was cross with herself for the assumption. But she’d been right.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t do anything too crazy. Fist fights. Some dealing. The thing they got me on was armed robbery. A petrol station. The guns weren’t even loaded.”
“I’m sorry Benny,” said Megan.
“Jeez, nothing to be sorry for. No one got hurt but us assholes. I deserved the six years they put me away for. Did four years, then got out because I agreed to get on a transition programme.”
“I understand,” she said.
“Those first few weeks, Megan? You think you’re special. Like you’ve been rewarded or something for being a criminal. Then the walls start to get you down. You realise you can’t walk out of that place. You bang on the walls. You bang on the doors. You plead with the guards. You’re sick to the stomach with withdrawal.
“But you know, as you lie there in your bunk each night, however hard you bang on those walls, they aren’t going away. At least not until someone on the outside decides it’s time to let you out.
“Some of the guys, you know, they can’t take it. Comes out as aggression. Fighting. Attacking the guards. Setting light to their cells.
“Others. Well, they can’t take it in different ways. God help them. There’s always a way to kill yourself in prison.”
“And the rest,” asked Megan. “You?”
He shook his head.
“Acceptance, maybe? They offered me the Programme. To deal with my drug addiction. To help turn my life around. It starts in prison, then you get out into the community for a while. But it’s tough. Like, so tough not to go back to your old life.”
“Hence the walls?”
“Yeah, I’m kind of comfortable down here. I feel safe, from myself. I was desperate to go back to where I started out. Get back into drugs. Find my girl, again. Maybe this,” Benny indicated the spiral staircase, “maybe this is my warning. I don’t believe in any kind of God, Megan, but if this is life teaching me a lesson, then it’s one I needed to learn.”
“You said, girl?” she said, momentarily stopping the massage.
“Long gone. I let her down. Had to let her down, for my own sake. To stay on the Programme.”
“That’s so cruel.”
“Megan, I’m lucky. I got clean. And when I took that coke today, it reminded me how lucky I’ve been. Because if I’d have been up there, I’d have gone straight back to the old neighbourhood for another hit. Down here, no more hits. No choice. Just a reminder that it isn’t where I want to be. Like I say, I’m lucky. Girl or no girl.”
“Some kind of luck,” said Megan. She moved up and sat next to Benny. She put her arm around him.
“I think you’ve been very strong. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been. We’re all only in so much control of our lives, but seems to me you’ve steered yours towards a good place. You should be admired for that.”
“I don’t know, Megan,” he said. “I’ve done bad things.”
“And it’s time to forgive yourself,” said Megan. “That’s the last hurdle, and you need to get over it.”
Together, they looked down at the spiral below, Giles still sleeping.
Megan whispered.
“You said you’d seen it before?” She nodded towards Giles.
“Been through it,” Benny said. “Pretty much every other inmate, too. Cold turkey. They bring you in, and every one of us is surviving on drugs of one form or another. Me, it was coke and heroine. They try to replace it, but you’d tear the place down for another real hit. You kick, you scream, the voices in your head taunt you.
“You end up a shivering wreck on the floor, then slowly the doctors, the guards, they pick you up again. You learn to live without the drugs.
“But some guys, they got mental health, you know? I saw it from the start here. I reckon you did too. That guy’s shaky. Super friendly one time, then out of his mind another. Crude even. Jokey, then filthy talk.”
“I’ve seen him ticcing, mumbling to himself,” said Megan.
“He said he was bi-polar, and on medication. The coke was a trigger for some kind of episode. All respect to him, but Giles is a head case.”
Benny continued: “You heard him talk about his medication, that he’d run out? Seems to me he’s been on those drugs long term, to keep him straight. Down here, he doesn’t have the medication. Whatever mental health problem he has, it’s going to get worse.”
“What do you mean,” whispered Megan.
“He’s not safe down here,” said Benny. “He’s a threat to himself mainly, but to us, too. I’ve seen schizophrenics without their medication, they’ll tear you apart. They imagine you’re the devil, or a dragon, or a witch. Or whatever the hell the voices say. And they’ll do whatever the voices in their head tell them to do.”
The two sat silently, watching Giles as he took deep breaths in his sleep.
“Will you
protect me, Benny, if it came to it?” said Megan.
“We’re going to have to look after each other. Giles is going to be totally unpredictable when he wakes up. I’ve an idea, but it’s all in or out. ”
“I’m in,” said Megan. “I trust you Benny. I don’t know if we’re going to get out of this staircase alive, but we need some control over whatever future we have left.”
Benny put his arm around her and pulled Megan in tight.
32
By the time Giles left the casino he was no longer rolling drunk, just dizzy and already on his way to a hangover. The guys had dropped away over the last hour, some with girls they’d met. But most just disappearing to stagger down the casino steps and into a cab.
Giles hadn’t meant to be last out of the door, but suddenly he could no longer recognise any of the punters around the gaming tables. And there were no girls left at all in the club. He’d been gamely trying to chat to the few women in the casino all night, but they all quickly brushed him off.
As he too fell out onto the street, Giles felt a familiar creeping feeling of emptiness. The evening had been fun, but now what? A few hours sleep at most and then back to work? Giles thought of his empty house in Snaresbrook. A taxi out there would be £50 a least. He pictured himself fumbling for his keys, letting himself in and the cold and stale air of his place, the silence engulfing. He’d stumble onto the bed, probably still dressed, then wake up with the already creeping pain in his head matured into a full-blown hangover. Same hangover, different day.
Maybe it was the booze, but out here in among the tall City skyscrapers and the glass worked ornate buildings, he still felt totally alone. He’d feel just as alone at home. Worse even.
I know what you’re thinking, Giles.
It had been a while since Giles had sex. And a lot longer since he’d curled up with a woman and just enjoyed the warmth as they’d both fallen asleep. Back at home were just dirty, cold sheets. It was no longer a home at all, just a place to sleep. He could barely stand the thought of it.
The Spiral Page 17
