The Spiral

by Gideon Burrows

  You know where to go, Giles.

  He walked five minutes to Liverpool Street Station and hailed one of the few taxis still waiting for a late night fare.

  “Mile End, the Station.” The taxi driver didn’t look back. He knew what that meant. And Giles knew he’d just added at least another £10 to his fare. Driver and passenger didn’t speak for the journey.

  Mile End. The class of girls there was far from the standard you get in Soho, but in the West End, the massage parlours were all run by pimps. Go through one of those little doors between smart coffee shops and gay bars around Windmill Street, up the stairs, and you didn’t just get the girl, you got the hustle and the pressure.

  You had to wait in some shabby room, listening to the girls, all screeching and crying in fake pleasure for the punter who’d got in before you. It was the pimps in charge in Soho and you better not put a foot wrong.

  No, Mile End was better in that way. Things were a bit more fluid. A bit more freelance.

  Entrepreneurial spirit, Giles. You got to hand it to them.

  The cab pulled up about 100 metres after Mile End Tube Station. The meter said £17, though Giles handed over £30. He’d almost fallen asleep in the back, lulled by the movement of the cab as it swung round back roads to drive up the fare. He wished he’d told the taxi driver to take him home.

  But you’re here now, Giles. Get your money’s worth.

  It would still be another pile to get home afterwards. In for a penny.

  At this time of night, the girls were confident enough to hang around the closed station. In the last few hours when Mile End was open, London Underground staff and the British Transport Police would wander around the foyer ostentatiously, driving the waiting girls onto the other side of the street, or to outside Turkish bars where the owners saw their presence as an extra service for the guys drinking inside. Sometimes for themselves, too.

  Giles walked back towards the station, just about able to make brief eye contact with two girls under the street lamps, but keeping his head down – just going home, his gait said – then past three other less appealing, more worn, girls who were also waiting around.

  Girls. That was stretching it, Giles thought as he made his first swipe past the station. He waited at the roadside, as if waiting for an opportunity to cross. The three he’d avoided were out, that was for sure. Haggard. Their hair already crumpled from too many tricks that night. The other two, well they were potentials. One - blonde she was, probably fake anyway - was dolled up nice enough and max about 30. Okay, maybe 35. There were crows’ feet around her eyes, but she held his gaze strongly enough. She had a tight pink top pulled over large, obviously fake breasts.

  No harm in that, Giles. A bit of body work. Obviously knows her way around this particular area.

  The other had thin lips and tired eyes. She had no real breasts to speak of, but to be honest, there was no meat on her anywhere. She was pale and gaunt, not just thin. Giles hadn’t seen her arms, but imagined what he might find there. Anyway, she’d turned away when Giles had looked towards her, wanting to avoid his connection.

  Giles spun around, trying to give the impression he’d decided not to cross the road after all. He walked toward the blonde with the pink top. But she was already looking towards a Mercedes that had pulled up alongside, and dropped its passenger window. She strode over to it and started chatting to the driver inside.

  Looks like a bit of charity work for the junkie Giles.

  He turned again and moved towards the gaunt girl, coming up to stand next to her. Her brown hair was limp and greasy and fell down the back of her denim jacket. Her hands were spindly, and she messed with them uncomfortably; each of her nails had been bitten down to the bare skin. She stared down at the ground.

  “Do you have somewhere to go?” he asked her in a flat voice.

  “I don’t take people home.” She continued staring and was shivering as she spoke.

  “Then where?”

  “The park. I know a way in. It’s private enough.”

  Still not looking up, she moved away from Giles and started towards the crossing where he had stood before. He followed her, a meter behind. Then they crossed the road and walked into the shadows cast by the head-height hedges surrounding Mile End Park.

  “Fifty pounds,” she said. “Straight up sex, nothing… nothing more.”

  “I’ve got £35.”

  “Forty.”

  Done, Giles, you filthy fucker.

  He kept walking with her, indicating his consent. At the corner of the park, where a street light had gone out, there was a gap in the fence and the hedge that had obviously once been filled by a tree that was no longer there. As soon as they were on the other side, she waited, still staring at the ground. He pulled out two twenty-pound notes.

  She’ll be out of here and straight onto her dealer for another hit. No questions asked. Just give me the money, then hand me a needle and a teaspoon.

  Ten minutes later Giles had left the park, barely able to hold in his need to throw up.

  He’d used the girl, plain and simple. No, it was worse. He’d pushed her further than she had wanted to go.

  “Nothing more,” she had said.

  He’d ignored it. He’d tried to imagine she was Lisa. In their shared bed. Warmth surrounding them.

  The woman had lain there limply. Giles had asked her to hug him. She’d put her arms around him, but Giles had told her to pull him tight. She did, but without conviction.

  He just wanted to recreate what he’d had. To feel something like when he made love to Lisa.

  And when he’d felt nothing, he’d pushed the young woman’s arms above her head.

  It only took her to say ‘no, don’t’ once for Giles to be reminded of how Lisa would pretend to resist.

  He’d finished, and within seconds reality had sprung back. He realised he was lying above a woman he didn’t know. On dank, damp grass, surrounded by used condoms and empty beer cans. And he had ignored this vulnerable young woman’s request for him to stop.

  “No, don’t,” she had said. It wasn’t to titillate him like Lisa would. It was to refuse him.

  The dead, lifeless feeling in the pit of Giles’ stomach had come immediately. Before, he had felt a few minutes’ rush of paying a woman for sex. Only now, afterwards, the depression felt far deeper. Far more painful. Far lonelier.

  Idiot. You fucking shit.

  He hadn’t been able to see her face in the dark. Only the outline of her stick thin body and her twiggy arms.

  What was he doing there, in some fucking park in the dark, in the shitty east end of London? What the hell was she doing here? What was she, 22, 23, and already a junky selling herself to sleaze bags like him?

  She should have known better than to trust a prick like him.

  Stupid, stupid fucking whore. Stupid, stupid fucking prick.

  “Sorry,” he had said. “So, sorry,” as if he could take it all back. Erase.

  His standing had allowed a shaft of light to emerge through the bushes and onto her face. Her eyes were puffed up - the most astoundingly marine-green - glossy with tears.

  Giles had reached into his pocket and pulled out every note he had there. Twenty pounds, maybe £30. He held them out to her, and she had turned her head away from him.

  “Take it.”

  She had reached up and snatched the notes quickly.

  “It’s just… I’m sorry.”

  Giles turned and walked away, keeping his head low and in the shadows. As he ducked through the hole in the fence, he looked momentarily back in the girl's direction. He could see the soles of her bare feet as she knelt low and away from him. She was reaching into the scrub, trying to find her shoes in the deep dark bushes.

  He hesitated for a moment. And then he left, more angry with himself than he had ever been.

  You need to be punished Giles. Someone needs to be punished.

  33

  Benny felt an unwelcome light seeping behin
d his eyelids, the morning switch-on of the chamber lights rousing him. Just a few minutes more.

  Benny half-drifted off again, feeling an almost-unconscious hope he’d felt every morning that this nightmare would be over. But he felt the hardness of the step beneath his face, the painful creases in his body as it folded itself in and out of the steps he was lying on. The disappointment pulled him fully back into consciousness.

  Benny watched the orange glow behind his eyelids again, then reached across and gently touched Megan’s side. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of her body, and he felt secure that she was still there.

  He saw the dark descending over the orange glow and almost mistook it for sleep returning. But the shadow was moving around.

  He opened his eyes just in time to see a huge footprint descending from above him before it connected with his face, crushing his nose and sending blood spurting across his cheeks. The sharp pain sprung him into alertness and through eyes blurry from pain and the wetness of his blood he saw Giles raising his boot for another strike.

  “Cable ties,” shouted Giles. “Fucking cable ties. Is that the best you can do?”

  Help him out, Giles. Release Benny from this spiral.

  Benny leapt into a seated position and threw his face, along with what could only be a broken nose, between his knees. His face was protected, but he felt the heavy boot crash down onto the back of his head. It was the exact spot where he’d hit the wall two days before, and the excruciating pain again sent ripples of agony around his skull that were so fierce that his ears rang. He watched as blood from his nose spattered into the step ahead of him.

  “Giles, no. We can work this out,” screamed Megan.

  “Shut up. You’re next, after I’ve released him.”

  “Released him? What do you mean?”

  “Megan, go. Quickly, go,” Benny said.

  In one movement, Benny stood on his still painful leg and pushed Megan further up the steps. He swung round towards Giles, who was just a step or two below him. He was holding one of Benny’s steel toe capped work boots in both hands. It was covered in the builder’s blood.

  The fingers on Giles’ left hand were blistered and red, a stripe of red ran down the man’s hands and into his wrist.

  Giles had used his lighter to burn through the plastic cable ties Benny had taken from his work, and that he’d used to secure Giles’ hands together during the night. The crazy bastard had burned his own hands to release the plastic ties, then burned through the shoe laces tied around his ankles too.

  A lighter. A fucking lighter. First thing to be taken off a prisoner when they come in.

  Benny looked again. There were cigarette burns on the back of the man’s hands. Classic self harm. Classic voices. Classic build up to a psychotic episode.

  Giles - or whatever Giles had become - had been planning this all night. Preparing himself, punishing himself, using the cigarette pain to prepare himself for what was to come.

  The light. And the advantage of surprise.

  “I have to release you, Benny. You and Megan. It’s for your own good. Release you from this place.”

  Giles lashed out again with the boot, catching the bigger man squarely in his chest.

  Benny stumbled back, his injured right foot hitting the step above, twisting again and sending a forceful ripple of pain up through his ankle, then his knee. It buckled with the force.

  He could hear Megan screeching just above him as he saw Giles’ shadow retreating down some steps. Benny took a moment to assess the damage Giles had inflicted.

  His head felt like it was going to explode. The pulsating pain of the back of his head and the sharp stabbing pain where his nose was broken felt like they were pressing in on his brain, squeezing it like a vice.

  The tie on his right ankle had come away, and it felt as if it had been smashed with a lump hammer. And now his knee felt cracked. He heard it grind as he attempted to swing it from side to side. His eyes were streaming with blood and tears. And he had no boots on.

  “Giles, please,” said Benny, but his voice came out like a gurgle. He spat blood that had dribbled down into his mouth from the front and down the back of his throat.

  No choice now. Benny knew it had to come down to him and Giles, and if he didn’t put Giles seriously out of action then what: another boot in the face during the night? Megan left totally alone with this man?

  He still felt sympathy for Giles. The man in grief for his wife. The man depressed by his job. The man who suffered from voices telling him to do despicable things.

  But now the rules had changed. His attempt to tie Giles up for his own safety had failed. There was no choice now but to take the guy down.

  Benny didn’t kid himself; he was already at a serious disadvantage. He gripped the bannister and pulled himself upright. He stepped with his damaged right foot onto the level below towards Giles, but the pain was excruciating in his ankle and his knee.

  There was no power in his leg at all, and certainly not enough to lever him down the stairs. Instead, he hovered his right in the air and hopped down with the left. First one step, then another, then another, then one more before he had to take a rest.

  His eyes clearing now, he could see Giles five steps below him, still holding the boot in his hands. Benny quickly covered three more steps, hopping on his left. But with every step, Giles backed down one more. He was playing with him, wearing him down.

  Benny covered his chest as Giles moved back towards him, expecting another blow from the boot. But he felt a sharp punch in the stomach. He stumbled backwards, his painful right foot hitting the ground to prevent him from tumbling down the stairs. The same move that had twisted his foot two days ago.

  Another shock of pain rose from the foot and enveloped his whole body. Benny grabbed the rail tighter and hopped down one more step towards Giles.

  He was ready for another punch this time. He ducked to the left just in time to prevent Giles landing a direct hit. Instead, the fist brushed his shoulder, which held firm.

  Benny looked up, and for the first time saw clearly enough to register Giles’ features. His face was twisted between anger and determination, shock and fear.

  The man wasn’t sure himself what he was doing.

  And he was crying.

  “I have to release you, Benny. Don’t you understand? I’m a useless pile of shit. The best I can do is to release you from this hell.”

  Benny hesitated, then shook his head. No, there could be no reasoning with this man. He used the half-beat of Giles’ confusion to land a hard left punch into his face. As Giles bent over with the pain, gasping for the breath that had just been taken out of him, Benny punched again. This time a cuff around his head.

  He watched his opponent rock to the side. His head hit the wall and he stumbled backwards, only just managing to steel himself against the metal bannister.

  Benny hopped again and this time, slamming his now painful right foot down into the step for leverage, planted his fist into Giles’ face. This time it was Giles’ turn for his face to explode in a bloody mess. Benny had missed his nose, but split his lip badly and splashed his blood over his chin and cheeks.

  But Giles was still quicker. Benny’s dead weight, now heaving from exhaustion, moved down the steps further towards him. Benny had the advantage of height, but Giles had already come in with an almighty tackle, headfirst into his stomach. Benny was winded, but didn’t go down.

  Ending up on his knees, Giles raised Benny’s boot again, and brought it down in an audible crack onto Benny’s left foot. They both watched as Benny’s toes bent against the sharp edge of the step. Now both of his feet were out of action.

  He was going to lose this.

  Now Benny didn’t need to rest, he needed to get away. Lumbering, he stumbled back up the steps on his heels, step after step, never taking his eye off Giles, who was straightening up again, wiping blood from his face. With two feet out of action and Giles still having the boot, what hope d
id he have?

  Scrambling backwards, the heel of Benny’s twisted right foot slipped on the edge of a step and failed to connect with the one below. It sent him reeling backwards, too quickly for Benny to reach out and grab the rail. He felt his spine hit the edge of another step and heard a terrible cracking as one of his vertebrae exploded.

  Benny didn’t have time to feel the pain. A moment later, the back of his head hit a step. A direct hit where he’d already smashed it two days ago, and Giles had redone the damage two minutes ago. This time his skull gave way, his neck was forced forwards and his chin hit his chest in an impossible position.

  Rachel was lying in bed next to him, breathing in and out gently, staring at the ceiling with a smile on her face. The tourniquet was loose but still around her arm. It was the last thought Benny had.

  34

  Even as Megan ran up the stairs, she knew how futile it would be. She had an endless spiral to run up, but she had nowhere to go. Eventually she was going to tire. She already felt as weak as she’d ever been. And when she did stop, he’d be upon her. He’d be much faster than she, and he still had shoes on.

  She climbed steps until she could climb no more. There was silence from below. Then the smell of cigarette smoke. Giles now had one more left, if she’d counted correctly.

  The man was in no rush. He knew exactly what she did. They had all the time in the world. The cigarettes calmed him, she thought. After the battle with Benny below, he was taking a moment to regroup.

  Rethink, perhaps?

  If so, only for a time. Then the voices would be back.

  Megan needed to pee. She needed to drink too. It reminded her of the lipstick cap she’d peed into a few hundred steps from here.

  And then she thought of something else. Something her Dad had given her. The thing she had decided she would not pee in. It was still there, tucked into her bra where no one else had seen it.

  It was the one thing she hadn’t turned out onto the step all those days ago.

  She shook her head.

  I take decisions and act on them.