The Spiral

by Gideon Burrows

  She hadn’t used those words in her interview. Back then it was meaningless drivel, to get the job done. Like Dad said.

  Now they felt totally and completely necessary.

  As she stepped down towards where the smoke was wafting up, Megan had one hope and one hope only.

  That Giles wasn’t looking in her direction.

  Her feet, in torn tights, padded silently back the twenty steps to where they had all made their home. The detritus of their lives. The broken light socket. The bloodied tie. Her shoes and Benny’s boots, one now also covered in blood.

  She peeked her head around the curve and was pleased to see Giles was facing down the steps towards Benny. Her friend’s twisted body lay like a barrier across the spiral staircase, as if it were a dam preventing anything else from tumbling down.

  She got as close to Giles’ back as she could, knowing that eventually he would hear her. Whether his face was kind or angry, it could no longer matter.

  There was only one way out of this.

  I use my initiative, act quickly when the circumstances require it.

  She heard Giles breathe heavily. He flicked the cigarette butt down the stairs, past where Benny lay.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” he said. “He slipped. I didn’t kill him on purpose. He needed to be released from the staircase.”

  For a moment, she wondered whether he was talking to himself. Mumbling like he had been for the last two days.

  But he turned.

  He looked up at her from where he sat.

  “The voices? Can you understand that? I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  Megan’s heartbeat slowed. He truly meant what he said.

  “I’ve lost everything,” Giles said. “And now, this. I deserve everything I get.”

  Megan reconsidered. The man was so vulnerable. It wasn’t his fault. Benny’s death. The spiral. His mental illness. Even Lisa leaving him.

  All of our lives are shaped for us, by our genes, by our brains, by our innate faults, by our upbringing, everything we encounter along the way. Where was fault when there were so many factors at play?

  Was Megan really responsible for Rachel getting hurt? For her leaving the college? Was Megan responsible for her own father’s neglect? Her mother, for leaving him, maybe creating the man he had become?

  “Giles, it’s going to be okay,” she said finally. “Whatever happens, it’s going to be okay.”

  He shook his head.

  She sat six steps above him, her resolve run out as the man began to weep below her.

  She watched as it transformed into heaving tears. And then something else.

  What was it? A slight ticcing in his neck.

  “Shut up,” he said.

  “Giles,” said Megan, her heart beating quicker again.

  “Fuck off. Leave it, lads, fucking leave it.”

  “Giles,” Megan shouted. “Come back to me.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay. No, fuck off. Fuck off.”

  “Oh Giles,” Megan cried. “Oh poor, poor Giles.”

  “Fuck off.”

  The man was crying, fiercely fighting the voices in his head. Drowning.

  “Oh Giles, oh Giles, I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry,” he said, his neck fully ticcing now. “Sorry, sorry. Fuck off, lads. Sorry, sorry.”

  His face ticced as he appeared to try to shake off the storm.

  Megan stood, knowing there could be no other choice.

  “I’m sorry I have to do this, Giles,” she said. She pulled out the small liquid chilli spray her Dad had made for her and insisted she carried at all times. Highly illegal, but highly effective, he’d say.

  She walked down two steps, held out the spray, and pumped it four times directly into Giles’ face.

  The man screamed in agony, turning to face away, bringing his arms over his face, scratching at his eyes to take away the sting. He stood slightly, grasping the bannister, trying to shake away the pain.

  Megan kicked Giles firmly in the back. His feet slipped, and he lost his balance, falling forward, tumbling over. His face his the stone steps below.

  “Oh God,” Megan screeched. “I’m sorry Giles, I’m so sorry.”

  The man writhed upside down on the staircase, trying to reach for his eyes again. His arms were trapped by his own body.

  Giles cried out, screeching with the pain of his now broken cheekbone and the seething agony in his eyes.

  Dad had taught her rubbing your eyes only made it worse. You needed to wash chilli out with water or preferably milk, yogurt even.

  “Ah, my eyes, you didn’t have to. Let me release you, Megan. I need to help you out of this place.”

  She’d got the advantage she needed. Megan just needed to know how injured Giles had been in the fall.

  He screeched as he yanked an arm from under his body and tried to lift it onto a step, attempting to swivel his body upright.

  As he turned, Megan saw his face streaming. She saw cheeks burning with the chilli, but with anger too.

  “I’m going to kill you, Megan,” said Giles. So quietly, and gently, he might have been talking to children. “There’s nothing left for either of us down here. I have to release you, and then I’m going to kill myself.”

  He attempted to pull himself up by the banister, but his foot slipped and Giles let out a little cry.

  It emboldened Megan.

  “I’d prefer it the other way up,” said Megan. For a moment she imagined it was one of those films, like The Running Man, or Highlander or The Hunger Games.

  Last one to survive discovers it’s all a trick. God, she hoped this was some kind of sick game show.

  She steeled herself for the last battle. What did she have: Benny’s boots, a little more chilli spray, the advantage of being above him?

  There was no way Giles was going to let her tie him up again. The man had burned his own skin to get free.

  She quickly dismissed the horrific idea of bashing Giles’ head in with the boots. She didn’t have the stomach for it, and her sympathy for the man remained. Even now he shouldn’t have to die that way.

  What did Giles have: a lighter, a last cigarette, a pathological ability to destroy, and the support of the voices in his head cheering him on.

  She knew she had the disadvantage, physically and mentally.

  She backed up the stairs, watching Giles carefully as he struggled onto his feet. He was obviously slowed by an injury, but how bad it wasn’t clear.

  For the moment, he continued to be calm. Considered even. He became the Giles she’d known on the first day.

  “Megan,” he said, “that chilli hurts like hell. If you have to use it again, I understand. I need you to know that. None of this is your fault. It’s mine. You should do what you have to do.”

  She hesitated.

  “I understand,” she said.

  He held up a last cigarette.

  “Last one,” he said, flicking the lighter. “You want a few drags?”

  “No, thanks. Take it slowly, Giles. Enjoy it. Give me some distance, please?”

  He smiled. “Here,” he called.

  He threw the lighter up to her. It rested on a step just above. A little more advantage to her.

  “I’m going to go now, Giles,” she said. “Take as long as you can with that fag.”

  He waved it at her.

  “See you around,” he smiled.

  Megan walked backwards up the staircase.

  Megan tried to think tactically. She had calmed Giles, and he’d given her some advantage and attempted to disarm himself.

  As she climbed a few steps, she looked around her. He would expect her to climb far above. Keep going, getting as far away as she could.

  She stopped just two twists around the spiral, about twelve steps. This was where it had all began. The light fitting was still hanging loose from the concrete five further steps up. The footprints, dirt, litter they’d all left. Her empty lipstick. Benny’s
boots. A pen and a pencil.

  They’d slept here. Talked here. Disagreed here. Comforted. Even joked.

  She lay a boot down on a step. Backed up another two and lay another boot down. She backed up another few steps and lay the bottle down. It contained just a few finger nail’s worth of Dad’s chilli spray.

  She backed up again and looked around at the light fitting. If she could reach up, there would be just enough room in the hole for her to squeeze her fingers through. She could use it as a swinging position, giving her more sturdiness to kick out with her legs.

  Silently, she moved back down the steps to Benny’s first boot. She picked it up, pressed on the toe cap to feel the solidity of the steel beneath. She pushed her hand into the boot, as if it were a boxing glove. She picked up a pen in her left hand and mimicked stabbing motions.

  She took a deep breath, and could still smell the cigarette rising from beneath. Not yet, she thought.

  But soon.

  35

  The smell of smoke petered out. Megan waited, listening for any movement from below. It was ten minutes before she thought she heard slow but loud footsteps coming up the stairs.

  It was almost as if Giles was warning her, still fighting the voices even now. Doing what he could with his body to fight his confused mind.

  “Fuck off, fuck off.” She heard Giles ticcing down below. “She’s okay. Fuck off, lads. She’s my friend.”

  A little cry from Giles, as he lifted himself up on one leg, obviously using the banister to climb slowly. Resisting, she imagined, at every step.

  Two more steps, she decided. Two more steps and she would have to go on the attack.

  “Fuck off.”

  Step.

  “No, I’m going back. Fuck off.

  Step.

  Was that a step down or up?

  “Shit,” said Megan.

  She stood, her heart beating, visions of her Dad scolding her, throwing plates across the room, accusing her of being lazy, or selfish, or dressing like a whore.

  She stiffened her arms, ready to start the assault.

  When Giles eventually came around the spiral below her, it was as if he was keeping his head low. Limping up on one foot. He didn’t want to see her first. After everything, he was still doing his best to give Megan her best first shot.

  This, Dad, is for a girl who will never make anything of herself.

  She launched down the stairs, and punched Giles in the back of the head with the steel toe capped boot. At the same time, she pushed the pen into the back of his neck.

  Giles’ head took the boot blow, and bounced lightly off the tiled wall. The pen scratched his neck, but didn’t penetrate. Giles bent over with the pain, and Megan kicked out frantically, sending Giles falling backwards down the steps again.

  She screeched herself, unable to believe what she’d just done. She threw the boot down after him, hoping to connect with his head. It bounced on concrete and fell down a few steps more.

  She heard an almighty cry out from below.

  “Bitch.”

  She knew Giles was no longer in control. She backed up the steps and took the other boot onto her right hand.

  “Don’t you come near me,” Megan hollered, though that was exactly what she wanted him to do. If he could.

  She heard a growl, then laboured single hops up the steps, slightly quicker than they had been before. This time, Giles was face up and she could see blood running from his left ear, where the boot had connected.

  She looked into his eyes. There was barely anything of Giles left. Just his demons.

  She stepped down again, swing the boot. This time Giles could see it coming and put up an arm to prevent the blow. His forearm took the power of the toecap, hurting him but not breaking anything. Giles stayed in place, still grasping the bannister.

  He came up one more step. Megan tried to swing again, but she was losing power in her arms and any chance of getting him off guard. Catching a final limp throw of her right hand, Giles grabbed the boot and snatched it from her hand.

  He was going to use that boot to batter her to death.

  Giles shook his head fiercely. He turned and threw the boot as far down the staircase as he could.

  “Go,” he said.

  Megan retreated more steps up and took up the chilli spray.

  “Fuck off.”

  “That’s it Giles, you tell them.”

  “Fucking bitch. Fucking Asswipe.”

  She watched him shake his head again and then lurch upwards. Megan leant down and sprayed a mist of chilli liquid all around. She couldn’t get close enough to Giles’ face this time, but she attempted to create a barrier at least.

  She watched as the pink droplets fell in the air, some falling onto Giles’ clothing, but most onto the steps. He’d closed his eyes to protect them, and she came down a step and kicked out, catching him in the shoulder holding the banister.

  Giles fell backwards, but caught the bannister again with his other hand. He moved one step up again, this time with more determination.

  She turned and ran another three or four steps up, turned and looked up, wildly trying to find the light fitting.

  She reached up onto her tiptoes and had to stretch forward to put her fingers into the concrete hole. It could only be one movement, a swing forward because she wasn’t tall enough to reach the roof on flat feet.

  Still watching Giles as he recovered from her last blow, she fumbled for a good grip.

  Her hand brushed the screwdriver Benny had left up there, jammed into the bulb connection. She briefly thought about what Benny had said about the danger of electrocution.

  She dug her fingers into the hole where the bulb had been and braced herself to swing.

  When it came, it was with a cry of anger and frustration from Giles. He leapt out from the bannister, as if to grab her waist and pull her down.

  She launched into the air, connecting both feet with the man’s head. But it was only a brush, and her bare feet failed to connect as solidly as she’d hoped.

  Megan clung onto the hole in the concrete and frantically kicked out. Her feet connected a few times, before she felt them suddenly jerk from under her. Her fingers slipped from the roof, and she fell painfully onto an arm, which caught the edge of a step.

  On her way down, she’d caught the wires of the light, dislodged the connection and plunged them both into total darkness.

  She tried to kick out again, but now Giles had grabbed both of her ankles. She felt his fingers tighten before he dragged her down. She felt the incredible pain as her spine and head bumped down the steps. Her skirt rode up her legs against the steps, and she felt her blouse tear, then the skin of her back graze deeply against the concrete.

  No, not here. Not like this.

  She tried to wiggle her legs, but they barely moved as Giles moved up her body. She crossed her legs tightly, preventing her biggest fear now that Giles had the advantage.

  “It’s no use now,” Giles whispered. But was that a tremble behind his voice? “I’m here now, I have to end it for both of us.”

  For a moment, she felt relieved. At least he would not rape her. She knew Giles was fighting that inside. She thanked God he was winning.

  She felt Giles’ hands as they found her neck; his tears falling onto her face.

  “I’m sorry, Megan,” Giles was crying loudly, as he mumbled the words.

  “It’s no use resisting. It’s what I have to do. I need to release you. I’m sorry, Lisa… Megan. This is what they’ve done to me.”

  But Giles was heaving with sobs, and Megan noticed a relaxation in his body, a slight releasing of the grip around her neck.

  Her fear abated for a few seconds, enough for her to understand what she needed to do.

  “No, Giles,” she said in as calm a voice as she could muster. “You don’t have to do this.” She felt more sobbing and more pressure released on her neck.

  “Stop, Giles. Stop and let me hold you. I’m here for you.�
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  “Oh, Lisa.”

  Megan felt her neck come free. It sickened her to do it, but she relaxed her arms from pushing against his shoulders.

  “That’s right. Let me hold you,” she said. “They did this to you, Giles. You are better than them.”

  She tried to prevent herself from retching as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Pulled his body onto her chest, his head next to hers. The pressure on her neck released completely now as his body shook uncontrollably.

  “Oh Lisa,” Giles whispered between sobs. “Oh Lisa, I’m so sorry.”

  Megan patted him, whispered back even though bile was rising in her throat. “It’s okay now, Giles, I’m here.”

  “They fucking destroyed me,” Giles cried. “They destroyed me, and Lisa left. And now there’s nothing.”

  “There’s life, Giles. It’s going to be okay.”

  “There is nothing, I’m nothing,” Giles’ tears had stopped. “We’re down here in this fucking hole and nothing matters. I have to release you.”

  Megan felt pressure on her neck again, pushing her again towards the stone. “Nothing matters now. Nothing mattered before. Everything’s gone.”

  This time the pressure on her neck became strong enough that Megan started to choke. She tried to call out, but the sound got caught in her throat. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe.

  And if she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t talk Giles down. She couldn’t pretend to be Lisa.

  Megan’s fear was now replaced by her feeling that she needed to draw in air. The pain of Gile’s hands around her neck had dissipated. Now her lungs burned and her head began to fug over.

  She knew suddenly it would have to go this way.

  It was time to do it, or give up.

  Megan lifted her arms as high as they would go behind Giles’ back, as if reaching out for the end to come. As she felt her eyes rising up into her forehead, she had just one thought.

  Dad.

  She held both her hands as tightly as she could around the handle of the screwdriver in her hands. So tightly every muscle in her arms hurt, and it took every ounce of remaining power in her body to pull the tool towards her.