Time To Play

by KA Richardson

  Yolanda hit Elvie again, causing her lip to split and swell instantly. ‘You are dirty bitch. You will learn the hard way.’ She flung Elvie in the direction of the bed and left the room, slamming the door so hard that the whole room shook.

  Elvie tried to steady her breathing. The whole of her right-hand side felt like it was on fire, and slowly she pulled herself to her feet. She lifted her dress to examine her ribs and wasn’t surprised to see them turning a dark shade of purple already. Her breath felt shallow, and her face pulsed with her heartbeat where Yolanda had hit her.

  I need to get out of here. I cannot be here when she comes to send me back to that house.

  Elvie made her way to the window and fiddled with the catch. She was surprised to feel it open and pushed the window upwards. It screeched loudly, paint on paint, and she paused, hoping that no one had heard. Shoving with all her might, she pushed the window up until it locked in position – a mere couple of inches from the bottom. Definitely not enough for her to crawl through.

  Tears threatened as she looked around the room, searching for something, anything that could help her force the window open.

  But there was nothing to find in the sparse room. The beds had metal frames that required dismantling with a screwdriver. There was nothing else other than the bedside table and the lamp.

  She stared at the lamp for a moment.

  Elvie smiled as she suddenly realised something. When the bedroom door was opened by Yolanda or whoever, it wasn’t locked. They always left it ajar while they were in the room. The lamp could prove to be a useful weapon.

  She pulled the plug from the wall and placed it behind the door, so it was ready for her to pick up when she heard someone coming. She allowed herself to slip down the wall beside the door to a sitting position, ignoring the pain from her side.

  And she waited.

  Farne Islands, Northumberland – 4 November

  Marlo made sure her tank was secure and double-checked the oxygen pressure. She dipped her mask into the salty seawater, then spat in it and rubbed her fingers around before giving it another quick rinse. She didn’t know what it was about spit that stopped the mask steaming up, but it worked and that was what mattered. Popping the mask over her eyes and nose, she put the respirator into her mouth and tested it by inhaling.

  She was set.

  Sitting on the edge of the boat, she leant backwards and let her body fall into the water. Kicking her legs powerfully, she swam deeper.

  The boat had been coming out with a group of students and a small dive team, and she’d managed to hitch a ride. They were doing some kind of ecological survey, looking at the silt around the wrecks and checking it for nutrients to compare to other areas of the seabed. Or so she’d been told anyway. The two divers were students doing their final degree year.

  Either way, she was pleased to see them. It had saved hiring her own boat to take out. She’d contemplated buying her own several times, but she’d have to pay for storage, maintenance and everything else; sometimes it was just easier to hire.

  Before entering the water, she’d set her underwater watch on countdown so she wouldn’t miss her ride back. It’d be a long swim if she did. Her camera was round her neck and hooked to her vest so it didn’t stray while she swam.

  She spent a minute taking in the surroundings. Marlo had dived there several times, but the thing she loved about the sea was that it was always changing. You could dive the same place twice in two days and something would be different. The only thing that she didn’t like was the silence. A girl could really hear her thoughts when she was submerged under tonnes of water.

  When she’d first started diving, the silence had been the thing that put her off the most. All that time lost in her own thoughts had been a bad thing when she was younger. It had let her dwell on the dark stuff too much. But now it was more like a form of meditation. She could force her mind to empty and her body to relax.

  She swam to the north-east, keeping her eyes peeled for the underwater landmarks she knew were there. Marlo jumped as a seal suddenly swam past her at eye level. It looked back, its black eyes glinting as her torchlight flashed over them, then turned back and continued with its search for dinner. She refocused on the rocks in front of her and veered slightly to the left.

  Then she saw them.

  From the depths of the silt on the sea floor rose several pieces of curved wood. Grabbing her camera, she unhooked it and checked the digital screen at the back. The image was as clear as a bell. Snapping away as she swam around the remains of the wreck, Marlo gave the job her full attention.

  She didn’t see the other diver swimming up frantically behind her until he grabbed her leg to get her attention.

  Marlo jumped and kicked back instinctively, using the force to push off and turn. She’d already grabbed for the knife she kept on her belt, and her heart was pounding so loud it could have been hooked up to an amplifier.

  The other diver waved his hands at her, silently telling her he was no threat. He used hand signals to beckon her to follow him, and even through his mask, Marlo could see he looked afraid.

  She hooked her camera back onto her chest, placed her knife back in its holster and followed rapidly.

  As soon as she arrived, she saw the source of his panic. One of the other students had become entangled in a fishing net and was struggling to get free.

  Bloody kids. They should both know to carry a dive knife with them, and not to panic if they get trapped. Jesus, the way she’s flailing about I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t rip my mouthpiece out.

  Despite her thoughts, Marlo knew what to do. She grabbed the male diver’s arm and pointed upwards, silently telling him to head to the surface and let the boat know to expect them. He swam towards the light shimmering above.

  Turning back to the female diver, Marlo realised the girl had dislodged her own mouthpiece and was panicking as water threatened to enter her lungs. The struggling caused the mouthpiece to get caught up in the net also, and the girl was unable to pull it free. Her eyes were wild, helpless as she fought against the net.

  Marlo approached, took a deep breath and put her own mouthpiece in her hand, motioning with her other hand for the girl to take two breaths. She knew how hard it would be for someone in panic mode to hand it back, so kept hold of it as the girl took in two long breaths. Marlo replaced the mouthpiece in her own mouth, not having time to think about potential germs, something that normally bothered her greatly, and pulled the knife from her belt. Working methodically, she cut through the netting, freeing the girl’s own mouthpiece and placing it in her hand.

  Then she bent double and started cutting through the rest of the netting to get the girl free. It seemed like it took forever, but finally Marlo cut through the last piece that held the diver in place, and glanced up, wondering why she wasn’t swimming to the surface.

  The diver’s mouthpiece hung limply by her side, and Marlo realised she’d been too scared to put it in her mouth when Marlo had handed it to her.

  Damn it, come on, lovely, let’s get you to the boat so we can get you breathing again.

  Swimming with urgency, Marlo swam powerfully towards the surface, her arms securing the girl to her chest. As her head burst free of the water, Marlo pulled the mouthpiece from her mouth and took in a deep breath before pinching the diver’s nose and exhaling into her mouth. She breathed another breath into the girl before turning to the boat and passing her to the other students who were waiting with arms stretched out.

  Give them their due, they all looked petrified, but there were no tears. The male diver pulled Marlo’s outstretched arm, helping her into the boat.

  Marlo laid the girl flat and tilted her head back, checking her pulse while she used her cheek to feel for breath. There was nothing.

  Breathing two long breaths into the girl, Marlo started chest compressions. Counting the compressions out loud, she got to thirty and leant to give the girl oxygen again.

  Suddenly, the girl
coughed, and Marlo turned her head to the side, so she didn’t choke on the seawater.

  ‘Easy, love, you’re all right now. Just try to breathe.’ Turning to the other kids, she added, ‘I need something to warm her up. Blankets, jackets, whatever?’

  The boat was already cutting through the waves on its way back to shore. The male diver handed Marlo a couple of blankets and knelt beside his friend.

  ‘You OK, Gemma?’ His hand stroked hers softly and Marlo realised the pair were a couple. Gemma nodded back at him, tears glistening in her eyes.

  Twisting to face Marlo, she said, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Next time you guys go diving, remember your diving knives. When did you do your qualifications?’

  ‘We did the PADI course when we were in college. This was our first dive in three years.’

  ‘Didn’t you do a refresher dive?’ At his head shake, Marlo added, ‘Book in for some practice sessions if you’re planning on diving again. You need to be prepared under the water. Gemma very nearly died. She’ll be OK but she’ll need checking out at hospital.’ Marlo left them together and sat back on one of the benches, finally unhooking her tank and pushing it off her shoulders. Some days are good dive days, some days not so much. At least she’s OK, though. She shuddered as she thought of what would have happened if she hadn’t been there. Not for the first time, she appreciated Sharpie’s words of advice when it came to experience.

  Chapter Eight

  Wear Street, Sunderland – 4 November

  H e parked the car in the alley to the rear of the house. Like he always did. He knew no one would look twice even if he parked right out front. Nothing was ever noticed in this part of town, but he still knew he needed to be safe.

  Rocko had told him to be there before nine-thirty. It made him happy, the knowledge that this man would always make sure he was taken care of and let him choose a girl who suited. Sometimes the girls even came with recommendations. Rocko didn’t ask what he did with the girls. It was part of what made good business. As long as he paid the set fee then he could choose whichever girl he wanted, and no questions were ever asked.

  He silently fingered the wad of cash in his inside pocket as he walked round the street to the front door. Momentarily, he felt guilty. This money wasn’t really his. His own funds had run out some time ago. But he knew she wouldn’t mind. She would understand that he had been trying to help someone in need. He had to believe that she’d understand, or he’d go nuts. Besides, a grand was nothing in this day and age. It would barely even be missed, he was certain.

  He pushed open the door with the faded, peeling paint and stepped inside. His nose wrinkled automatically; he couldn’t stop it. It happened every time he walked in here. The smell of piss and shit with the sweet overtones of sweat and drugs, and the utter stench of desperation assaulted his nostrils, but he stoically marched into the hall.

  He was here to do a service, to find a girl and help her. And no smell was going to stop him.

  He nodded at the girl sat at the table in the hall, and she barely acknowledged him. He’d been there more times than enough now. There was no need for her to respond.

  His shoes clattered on the bare staircase as he made his way up to the attic. The room always made him cringe. Horrid things happened to the girls in there. He knew Rocko hooked them on heroin there, he also knew Rocko and the other men did things to the girls that he would never consider doing.

  But he couldn’t help them all.

  He picked only the ones that looked like they had fight, the ones that hadn’t been there all that long. Rocko nodded at him as he entered.

  ‘First floor, first door on the left of the staircase. You’ll find her suitable I think.’

  As Rocko held out his hand for payment, he pressed the money in with a soft smile. ‘Thanks, Rocko.’

  The rule was never to use real names in the house, and it was a rule that he obeyed easily. Rocko and the person he knew Rocko as outside of the house were very different people. He had never confused the two, and he never would.

  He closed the door and made his way back down to the first floor. The door was a little stiff, but he pushed harder, and it opened, letting out a creak that was worthy of any haunted house.

  Stepping inside, he turned his nose up again. There were two girls inside, one on the left-hand-side bunk who was conscious and obviously looking for her next fix, and another who was quite possibly dead. Her head had lolled backwards, and he could see vomit in her mouth. Her chest was still.

  Ignoring the dead one, he walked over to the bed and sat down.

  ‘I’m here to save you. Come with me and I’ll teach you how to deal with all this pain and misery. It’s what I do.’

  He held his hand out to the girl, taking hers in his, and stood, pulling her to her feet. She didn’t fight. She followed as he led her down the stairs and out of the door to his car. He knew she understood what he said, for all her olive skin and dark hair pointed to her being foreign. They all understood that leaving the hellhole he took them from would be preferable to staying. She was number seven, and not one had ever refused to go with him.

  Outskirts of Hetton-le-Hole – 4 November

  Elvie had been sitting by the door all day. She had dozed off at one point and woken with a jump thinking someone was in the room with her, but it had been a dream. Her whole body ached now. Breathing was like having someone stick a shard of glass deep into her side, and her face throbbed with every minute movement.

  She stretched slightly and pulled herself to her knees, intending to stand.

  Suddenly she heard it. Footsteps coming up the carpeted stairs to the room she was being held in. Moving quicker now, she stood, wincing as her body protested. She grabbed the lamp and raised it high above her head. Whoever came through that door was going to get it.

  The door opened quietly, and she saw trouser legs in the light from the landing.

  A man then, no doubt the nasty one.

  She tensed as she waited for him to come further into the room. And the second she saw his face she swung the lamp with all her might. It shattered as it connected with the man’s face and he collapsed with a loud ‘oomph’.

  Elvie didn’t stop to see who it was. She snuck past him and crept down the stairs. She was petite anyway, and her feet made no sound on the carpeted steps. As she rounded the corner and found herself at another staircase, she paused, listening.

  It was faint, but she could hear the sound of people talking, a television maybe.

  Silently, she crept further down until she found herself in the hallway.

  The front door loomed in front of her.

  Elvie went to step forward, but a hand suddenly appeared round her mouth, and she was pulled backwards. She struggled, trying to kick at whoever held her steady. The pressure on her mouth was hard and she could barely even express a whimper.

  ‘Shhh,’ whispered a male voice. ‘It’s Danny. Don’t scream.’

  He turned her around so she could see his face, and she had to stop herself gasping when she realised he had blood running down the left side of his face.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said, seeing her expression. ‘Come with me, I’ll get you out.’

  Elvie nodded silently. He had helped her before; there was no reason for her not to trust him. He led her through the kitchen at the rear of the house, and out of the back door to a large concrete section where several vehicles were parked, including the van she’d been brought to the house in.

  ‘You see that red car over there? You need to go and hide on the back seat, there’s a blanket you can cover yourself with. If you don’t hide, they’ll catch you. You’re miles away from anywhere. Do you understand?’

  Elvie grasped most of what he said, though some words escaped her. She nodded, fear tightening in her chest. When he pushed her towards the car, she didn’t hesitate. She climbed in and peeked through the window as he made his way back inside.

  Maybe he’s going to tell them where I am?
Maybe he’s gone to get the woman and she’s going to beat me again.

  She heard shouts from inside the house and ducked down as the back door was flung open. Crouching low in the footwells, she pulled the blanket over her and lay still, her heart pounding in her chest as shouting sounded all around the car. She couldn’t get out now even if she wanted to.

  Ryhope, Sunderland – 4 November

  Nita felt ill. Her nose was running, and her body ached and shivered with cold, but at the same time she was sweating. It felt like she was back in the container again.

  She didn’t know where she was, but it wasn’t home.

  Nita didn’t know what it was they’d been injecting into her, but it made everything OK, at least until it wore off. When that happened it was like a raw hunger that wouldn’t go away, and coupled with the horrible flu she seemed to have caught, she felt like death warmed up. In the room she’d been in, they kept the drugs coming fairly regularly so her withdrawal hadn’t progressed beyond that and she wondered when this man would give her the injection her body craved.

  She glanced down at her arm, and without realising what she was doing, she started scratching at the tiny scabs left behind from the needles; her nails ripping into her skin and causing red welts to appear. It gave her a focus, and she could feel the pain. In an effort to stop the shaking, she scratched harder.

  The car she was in suddenly pulled to a stop and the man got out. He opened the door for her, and she took the hand he offered. He’s going to hurt me, like the other man.

  But even that thought didn’t make her stay in the car. She knew that however he hurt her; he would give her the drugs first. And that was what she needed. Anything else she could handle.

  The man led her down a path to a building and silently pushed her through the door.

  A sudden prick of fear invaded her senses. This room didn’t feel right. It smelt like bleach and the walls were covered in grey material. She racked her brains to try to remember where she’d seen similar material before, but the location eluded her. She saw the cage, the line of tools hanging on the wall, and the chair with wrist and ankle ties standing in the middle of the room and knew she’d made a mistake.