Anna

by Sammy H. K. Smith

  “What we have is very special, Anna.”

  Special, something different from what was usual or ordinary, yes, what we had was special. I nodded in reply.

  “Thank you for agreeing,” he replied, whispering into my ear as he held his cheek against mine. The coarseness of his stubble sent itching through my skin and the itch ate away at my anaesthetised and dead skin. Rubbing life back into me – did I want that though? To feel again after what I had seen? I didn’t deserve to feel.

  “I need to trust you, Anna, don’t fail me.” I didn’t understand, but that tone was back; the danger in his voice. I nodded again. “Good girl.”

  Those of us that survived tried to rebuild a society of sorts, but the gangs had taken control of anything and everything they could use as leverage – including the now-scarce medicine. Infection was rife and the vulnerable suffered. The first waves of cholera killed almost as many as the bombs themselves, and then the fear killings started. The weak and unfit were culled like livestock over the course of almost a year. Those with sense hid in the Unlands, and so the segregation started. Them versus us. Wanderers and townsfolk. The civilised and the brutal.

  Absent with retrospect I slipped, but gripping my hand he helped me over the low fence and onto the pavement at the outskirts of the settlement. It took what little energy I had not to shout out as he hoisted me by my arm. When we approached the group standing outside waiting for Will, I watched with interest.

  “This is Anna.” Will squeezed my fingers. “Say hello, Anna.” Gentle and kind again, the fury gone. He smiled encouragingly but I could see the warning in his face.

  “Hello.” It came out like a whisper, my voice bruised with the injury of crying and tired from little use.

  “Hello, Anna.” A deep voice said my name slowly, dragging out the vowels. I glanced at him: he was at least twenty stone in weight, but clean, like Will, and well dressed. He licked his lips salaciously. I stumbled back and grabbed Will’s arm, no, no, no. I had to be gracious, subservient, I was Anna, but Anna wasn’t strong enough for this, I wasn’t strong enough for this. He laughed. “Looks like this one likes you.”

  This one? I continued to grip his arm and he held my fingers tightly. This one?

  The large man walked with us towards the small scattering of houses. I tried to be subtle as I looked around for a familiar location or site. “You’re late, I was almost worried.”

  “It took longer than I thought,” Will replied.

  “But it’s done, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Did you pass on my message?”

  “Yes.” Will stroked my fingers tenderly again.

  “And?”

  “He cried like a fucking baby and promised there would be more next time.”

  “Excellent. You’ll find food and entertainment here for as long as you need them.” He paused and looked at me thoughtfully. “I’ll make sure my boys don’t touch your piece.”

  “Appreciated as always.”

  “Would Anna like some company while we discuss business?”

  Will looked at me, his hand strangely still, his face devoid of emotion. I didn’t know how to answer. How he wanted me to answer.

  “You’re being spoken to, Anna.” Will smiled, but it was an empty smile. Was this a test? Would he beat me if I failed? I hesitated, but something started to grow inside me; flickering and then expanding until I couldn’t help but nod.

  “Yes please,” I whispered, casting my eyes down again. I didn’t know if I had answered right or if I had angered him, but I wanted nothing more than to see and speak to someone other than the man who made it impossible for me to be me.

  Chapter Six

  We stopped outside a nondescript brick house and the large man knocked on the door. A small, lithe teenager opened it cautiously. I bit back a gasp. His face was a mess of bruises and scars, accentuated by his mousey brown hair.

  “Ben, I’ve brought Anna to you.” He smiled widely, stretching out my name again; perhaps thinking it seductive. I thought it revolting. “I want you to look after her while we’re busy. Where’s Matthew?”

  “Upstairs with Katrina.” His voice was young, younger than he looked, his hazel eyes darted across to Will and I.

  “And the others? Why are you opening the door?” The lightness in his voice was gone now and I watched Ben cower, shrinking back and trying to protect himself with the door. I slipped my hand back into Will’s.

  “Playing cards.”

  He barged past Ben, sending him flying. Shouts and banging soon followed, and I gripped my captor’s hand tighter. Feeling again was excruciating, I didn’t want it. After a few moments a skinny middle-aged man stumbled through the door, hauling up his ill-fitting trousers and scowling at Ben as he went.

  “Imbecile, I’ve told you before! They – are – not – to – answer – the – door. What if he’d left again?”

  “Sorry boss.” He mumbled something further I couldn’t make out and Ben disappeared into the house. The middle-aged man glanced at me: the same look they all had out here. Will tensed and stepped forward.

  “If you touch her, I’ll know.” That silky, soft voice again. The man nodded fervently.

  We followed them into the house. Musty, with an underlying odour of cheap perfume lingering in the air. The mismatched Parker Knoll furniture scattered with crocheted throws and cushions clashed horribly with the carpet and wallpaper. I loved it. It was normal, untainted and undamaged. I could lose myself here, pretend things were all right. As I looked around Will unlocked my cuff and rubbed my wrist.

  “There are seven of Olly’s crew here in this house, Anna, and they all have weapons and appetites. If you try to leave, I won’t protect you from them. That would be your punishment, do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Oh I understood. How could I not? I had seen Ben’s face. He pulled me close, wrapping his arms round, lingering in the embrace. He hadn’t done this before. He held me so close it hurt; my hands limply at my sides.

  The door opened and Ben stood in the doorway. He smiled at me nervously and I noticed how he crossed his ankles and tapped his foot. Will let me go and walked past him without acknowledgement.

  “We have tea, would you like some?” A polite monotone. His face scared me: I was ashamed to admit that to myself, but it did. The bruises were so extensive that they covered half his face; his swollen cheek and eye reminded me of a badly crafted mask, and yet still the lines of his brand dominated his face.

  “Yes, please.” Tea, so civilised: was this now civilisation? I followed him into the kitchen and stopped abruptly. There were five men sitting around the kitchen table playing cards, laughing and chatting. They paid me no attention.

  “Anna?” Ben spoke and I tore my gaze from the men.

  The way he looked at me, the pity in his eyes, made my anger rise. I didn’t want to be pitied, not by him, not by Ben who had been beaten, it wasn’t right. I dug my nails into my palms. My legs responded then and I walked towards the stove where the old-fashioned kettle whistled away. I turned my body as I passed the men, I couldn’t have my back to them, and the thought made my skin crawl and my capture flash into my mind.

  They casually threw pennies into the middle of the table, taunting and jeering at each other with jokes and corrosive banter. They were carefree and calm; I was fascinated yet sickened. I had spent over two years alone, two years with nothing and no one because I feared being caught, and was this the life I could have had? Possibly even formed friendships? Been part of all this?

  As quickly as the thoughts came I shook them away. There were no friendships to be made here for me.

  “We’ve no milk.” He handed me a mug and I took it with thanks. “It still tastes nice though.”

  Ignoring the men, he ushered me up the stairs. It was different now: the kitsch and homely touches of downstairs disappeared with each step. There were three bedrooms, and Ben opened the door to the one on the furthest right. Just two singl
e beds and a wardrobe, nothing more. There were no pictures, ornaments or cushions. Just sterility. Voices from the room down the landing grew louder: two distinct male voices and one female voice. Ben turned to me.

  “That’s Katrina, she’s Olly’s.”

  She’s Olly’s. I repeated it to myself. She’s Olly’s like I was Will’s. Olly owned Katrina, Will owned Anna. My brand itched and throbbed.

  “Why does she shout?” My voice was quiet. I still felt uneasy talking. I’d said more in the last few weeks than I had in over two years.

  Another shout from Katrina and a heavy thud.

  “Don’t worry. They’ll stop soon, she doesn’t fight for long.” He sat on the edge of a bed, nodding to the one opposite for me to sit on.

  “Where do they sleep?”

  “Two sleep next door and two stay downstairs, one by the front door, one by the back.” He smiled and then winced as the skin on his lip pulled. Neither of us spoke for a few moments and I sipped at the tea, not tasting it, not appreciating it.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “All my life, I lived here before… this was my grandma’s house.”

  I regretted asking the question, his face dulled. He stared at his tea, and tears rolled down his face. I looked away, willing my own tears dry.

  “How long have you been with him?” he asked. I glanced at the lace and satin curtained windows: screwed shut, of course.

  “Fifteen days.”

  He made a small noise and I looked at him with interest. I realised I had been wrong to be scared of his face. He was strong, perhaps stronger than I was. He had at least attempted to escape.

  “Who did you belong to before?”

  “No one.”

  “No one? How? You were on your own?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did he catch you?”

  I didn’t want to answer any more questions, I didn’t want to recall my shameful moments of weakness; the time I spent staring ahead instead of looking behind; the way he pounced on me and smiled; but I told Ben anyway, I told him the way he smelt, the touch of him, the slap to my face. I held nothing back and he remained quiet for a long while afterwards.

  “Olly looked after me at the start. He was my grandma’s carer and I’ve known him for like, forever. When things started to go crazy, he had to get firmer and firmer. I mean he was always so strong with her, you know? Took none of her nonsense. He had to show people he meant business, he told me to stay here so I did.” Ben paused and sipped at his tea. “A few of the boys I went to school with saw how Olly was looking after me, how he’d cleared my school of the bodies and gathered up food. He took them under his wing and they respected him. They still respect him.”

  He was jiggling his foot up and down again.

  “Then Olly told me I had to start earning my keep; that I wasn’t doing enough to help out. I offered to help clear the town, but he got angry, said that I wasn’t strong enough for that, said there was other things I could do.”

  As he looked at me, I nodded.

  “It wasn’t too bad, I mean, I liked Olly, he’d always been sweet to granny and he looked after me, I didn’t mind. He’s firm but fair.”

  I didn’t want the rest of my tea, and warm, acrid liquid rose in my throat.

  “I didn’t like it when he asked me to do it with the others. We had a fight and he got really angry. I ran away afterwards but he found me and then he cut my face. He said all the men in the other towns were doing it to show who looked after who.” His eyes were dead now. “He took me to the doctor who went mad at him. Like, she was really furious. She made him promise never to hurt me like that again.”

  A doctor. Images of the bloody and dying leapt into my mind. Those that hadn’t heard or seen the bombs had fled to the hospitals for aid, only to find crumbling buildings and injury. I needed medicines to trade, and yet, as I approached the melee of the desperate, I stole painkillers from an insecure ambulance. Even now I felt sick remembering the blood-soaked sheet on the trolley and the despairing shouts of help from the paramedic as I ran away.

  “Where’s your mark?”

  Happy for the distraction I switched away from my memories, stood up and lifted the bottom of my top. I still didn’t know what he had done to me, what it looked like. I still didn’t want to know but I would show Ben, share this the way he shared his scars with me.

  “That’s big.”

  Of course it would be, silly little me.

  “But it’s not your face.” His voice was a sad whisper. “You’re pretty though, he wouldn’t want to cut your face.”

  I didn’t know how to answer and instead pulled my top down and sat back on the bed, ignoring the fresh sting of pain. The shouts had quietened and instead muffled grunts and moans carried through the walls. It went on and on until finally there was silence.

  “I told you she doesn’t fight for long.” I watched a sly smile creep over his face. “I fight all the time; some of them give up when I fight – not all, but enough. If they don’t give up, I know just how to make them come quickly so it doesn’t take long.”

  Enough. On that word the bedroom door opened and a tall, slim, forty-something woman walked in carrying a bag and a bottle of wine.

  “Anna, this is Kat.” Ben stood and moved next to me while Kat took his place on the bed. I watched as she opened a small toiletry bag and started to apply her foundation and lipstick expertly. I wouldn’t have known where to start, but she used a lip pencil, a brow pencil, a primer, and a host of cosmetics I hadn’t known existed, and within minutes her entire face was smooth and perfect, a beautiful mask.

  “Who are you with?” Kat asked as she smacked her lips together and repacked the bag.

  “Will.”

  “Oh, him.” She looked. She may have covered her face, but her gaze was unmistakeable; she was curious. There was something else: fear? “Well he’s always been a weird one. So how long you been with him?”

  “Couple of weeks.” I didn’t want to have to repeat it again.

  “What’s he like? Is he moody and quiet when he fucks you?”

  “Kat! Stop!” Ben’s face twisted into more of a mess and he looked at me nervously. “You’re so cruel at times.”

  “He’s not done that.” I didn’t need to add the yet, the implication hung thick in the air.

  “Lucky you.” Kat swigged from the bottle again and looked me up and down. I blushed, I don’t know why. “I have to wash, Matthew stinks.” Kat stroked Ben’s cheek, cupping the knotted and scarred skin as she brushed her thumb over the angriest looking tissue. Leaning down, she kissed his forehead and tucked the teenager’s hair behind his ear before leaving the room.

  “Kat doesn’t mean to be so mean.”

  “It’s okay.” I had seen the hardness in the older woman’s face, the jealousy when she looked at me, but I’d also seen the sadness. “Where’s her brand?”

  “On her thigh, Olly didn’t want her to stop working.”

  I just nodded again. I could hear Kat shouting and the grumbled responses of the men. I looked at Ben for an explanation.

  “They don’t want to go and get the water for her wash. Olly got the well working, it’s a pain but it means we have fresh water and we can bathe. Kat will make them heat the water too.”

  I remembered the feel of warm water down my face and back, and the coconut smell. Why did it hurt to feel? Should I not be able to remember without pain? It wasn’t fair. “What do you know about Will?”

  “He comes and goes, never stays long. Olly likes him, he brings news and good trades. He protects us sometimes, and he sent Enforcers here when we needed help from some looters.”

  “Where does he come from?”

  “I don’t know. He doesn’t talk to us, he doesn’t like Kat much. Olly offered us both to him and he refused. I think that upset Kat in a way. I like Will, he turned me down too.”

  He liked my captor, really? He couldn’t be more than seventeen, so young: experienc
e comes with age.

  “So you’ve always lived here?” I asked and he nodded.

  “Since before I went to school. My dad used to work away and my mum looked after me and my sister at home.”

  I didn’t ask where they were. No point.

  Walking to the wardrobe he pulled out a battered board game: Monopoly.

  “Want to play? Kat doesn’t and the men aren’t allowed. It passes the time.”

  No, I didn’t want to play, but for Ben I would; as I nodded he grinned again, contorting the scars and bruises.

  “Awesome. I’ll be the dog.” He pulled out his keyring and unclipped the small metal Scottie dog from the chain and placed him proudly on the board.

  “That’s sweet.” I smiled at the blank faced dog with a chipped ear and set up my piece: the boot.

  “I love Monopoly. I used to play every day with Eric from down the road. We went to school together until he left and apprenticed at the munitions factory ’cos he failed the mid-year aptitude tests and couldn’t stay in school. So he went to work, but we saw each other every night. He would have dinner with Granny and me and we’d all play Monopoly. Anyway, he made me this keyring. It’s cool, right?”

  “It’s lovely.”

  He stroked the dog gently and placed it back on the board, grinning at me as he did. “For luck.”

  “Of course.”

  “He joined up when he was sixteen and left, just as things got really bad. He wanted me to go with him, but I couldn’t, you know? Granny needed me. I needed to stay with her for as long as I could.” He stopped and stroked the dog again. “Anyway, let’s play.”

  It took hours with just the two of us. He told me about his life before. His grandma had raised him from young, and yet he still didn’t say what happened to his parents. He had been at school the day it had been bombed, trying to grab some sort of education. Olly had broken the news of her death to Ben, and buried her. He loved music and played the violin, until Olly took it away to use it in a reward system. He spoke of his love of board games and reading, his hatred of the dark. I learnt more of Ben in those hours than I had of Will during our fifteen days.