Pain Cages

by Kane, Paul

  It hadn’t been Jez’s idea of fun though. The voice had talked him and ultimately bullied him into things, terrible things. It hadn’t been content anymore to see him hurt himself, to stick pins in his arms or stub lit cigarettes out on his stomach. No. It had forced him to go out in search of others to torment as well. To inflict this madness on.

  Jez closed his eyes now and flashed back to the very first of them: a young girl, couldn’t have been more than twenty-something, out walking her West Highland Terrier near the bank of a canal. The voice had made him spy on her first, looking, recording the information. Then the voice had started to whisper to him, how good it would feel, how if he hurt her it would save him even more pain. Jez tried to resist, fought against it so badly, but the voice had ranted and raved until he thought he would actually go deaf from the shouting. And so Jez had obeyed, dragging her into a nearby thicket, hand over her mouth; watching as the dog yapped a couple of times and then ran off. “Go on, do it, DO IT!”

  Someone walked past him and brushed his shoulder. Jez flinched, his eyes snapping open.

  “Excuse me,” said the woman in the pink jumper and jeans. Jez attempted a smile but it came out all wrong. The woman carried on down the aisle a short way and found a seat, facing him at an angle. Jez caught himself staring and looked away. But his eyes kept flicking back to her every couple of seconds.

  “She’s nice,” said the voice. “Very nice.”

  The woman opened up a magazine and started to read. Jez noticed that every so often she would peer over the top.

  “Imagine what her insides would look like,” the voice whispered.

  * * *

  Tracy Simmons took one last look over the top of her magazine.

  He’s nice, she thought to herself. Cute in an understated sort of way. He had that whole Tom Cruise thing going for him, but his smile could use a bit of working on. God, not again. First the guy with the cases, now an innocent passenger in her carriage. How desperate can you get? Chance meetings just never happened for her, unlike everybody else it seemed. The amount of times she’d heard the story of how her mum had met dad. She’d probably hear it again another dozen times this weekend.

  “We just bumped into each other at the laundrette. It was love at first sight, over the spinning sheets and towels.” If only something like that could happen to her. But you couldn’t force it. You could no more control your destiny than those stupid horoscopes could predict it. Tracy flipped the pages and went back to reading her magazine.

  Gemini (represented by the twins): Gemini folk are people of the moment. They are instinctive, restless and always on the look out for an opportunity. Gemini’s are extremists. They swing from one extreme to the other––sometimes being generous and kind, and other times deceitful or even, in some cases, malicious. Because they are represented by the sign of the twin, this sort of ‘dual personality’ should come as no great surprise. Often Gemini’s will act as if they are two people trapped in the same body. They need permanence, but at the same time always want to be on the move. They value friendships and are generally keen to meet new people. Yet at the same time they might let these friendships dwindle once the first waves of curiosity about a person have been sated. Equally, there are times when they just want to be alone and won’t speak to anyone, then there are times when you just can’t shut them up! They are certainly versatile, adapting to given situations readily with an almost chameleon-like knack. They do, however, find it hard to express their feelings. For them it is much easier to deal in the realm of thoughts and ideas.

  Compatibility Match––Pisces with Gemini: There could be so many misunderstandings in this pairing it’s untrue. The Piscean will long for the Gemini to show their feelings more and not be scared to tell them what they’re thinking––but do they really want to know? The Gemini will be content to look upon this arrangement as little more than just plain business. They are likely to hurt the Piscean because they don’t fully understand them.

  Taken from Lifestyle Magazine

  Gemini: You’ll feel the need to break out in new directions more than ever now. See new places and do new things. Let others criticize you if they like, you’ll be having too much of a good time to care. Your individuality shines through at the moment, so don’t be a sheep anymore. There’s so much out there for the taking.

  Belinda Gould held on to the back of a seat as the train started to move. It was time to take a little walk.

  “Tickets, please,” she said to some of the newest passengers on board. A middle-aged man with neatly cropped hair gave her an orange and green card. She clipped it and handed it back. “Thank you, sir,” she said. “Hope you have a nice journey. Tickets please.” Belinda moved on to the next set of seats.

  Who’d have ever thought she’d wind up in this line of work? Not her, that was for sure. She’d long-since swallowed her pride though and accepted that the days when she’d be recognized by passers-by, or even passengers, were gone forever. They had been many moons ago. Her model looks and magnetism had got her far in the fledgling fashion industry, but that was over twenty years ago now. At nearly 50, she still retained some of her allure (her name, apparently, even meant beauty in Spanish), and her charm had never really deserted her––she could still sweet-talk her landlord into fixing the plumbing or heating when others in her block had to whistle. But she was a very different person today to the one who had posed for eager photographers back then. She’d learnt some very valuable life lessons, one of which was that nothing ever lasts.

  Sometimes, when she was feeling particularly nostalgic, Belinda would take out those magazine covers and look them over; relive her glory days. But it usually upset her too much to do so; brought back memories. Some good, some very bad.

  When she’d been plucked from obscurity after winning a sponsored beauty pageant to model for a well-known catalogue chain, Belinda never once thought she’d end up coming back full circle. The catalogue work had been good, and the money had allowed her to move out of home, but it had been well-known photographer Gerard Lewishon who’d really changed her life. He’d taken her under his wing and made her into a star, the pictures he’d produced accentuating every beautiful line of her face, and curve of her body. Today Belinda had more curves than ever before, just in all the wrong places.

  Gerard wanted nothing in return, but after spending so much time with her he’d been helpless when she decided she wanted them to be more than just friends. That was before his much publicized battle against alcoholism. She’d been so eager to believe he was the one for her, understood her like no one ever had, that she’d overlooked these faults for so long. A mistake that led to a very nasty split and Gerard’s eventual check in at a drying out clinic somewhere in Canada. They’d tried to patch things up several more times after that, but it hadn’t been the same. She often thought how much better it might have been if they’d simply stayed friends instead of complicating things. Her fault. They hadn’t spoken for so long now. But that was what life was all about: regrets and moving on.

  Which Belinda did with style, making a fortune in the process. She’d also spent a fortune too. By the time the work began tailing off, it was too late to put anything aside for a potential deluge. Belinda soon found herself penniless and jobless. She’d listened to the advice of far too many people, including a new agent who swore he only had her best interests at heart, and had chosen badly in terms of her later commissions. It was surprising how many ‘friends’ she’d helped out in the past suddenly stopped calling her up, or crossed her off their invitation lists at parties. Add to that some pretty vicious rumors about her sexual habits since Gerard moved out––rumors that were completely unfounded––and Belinda Gould, the international model, was no more. That comedown had been a hell of a thing for her to get over; in fact she wasn’t sure she was over it, even now. Unlike Belinda, people had short memories, and her face had been wiped from the history books by a succession of other gorgeous girls. When she thought about h
ow much they earned today for doing exactly the same thing…

  Times had been tough. There’d been days when she hadn’t even ventured out of her house, which she lost anyway when it was repossessed. And she’d piled on the pounds, binge eating chocolate to get her through the day.

  Then she met David, a charity worker from Essex: the kindest man in the whole world. He didn’t know who she was; didn’t care. All he cared about was her. If it hadn’t been for him coming along, she might have pressed the self-destruct button once and for all. Had that been why she’d married him? Out of gratitude? And maybe it explained why she’d had an affair with a carpet-fitter called Jim a few years later. That had carried on for some time, with Belinda having absolutely no idea who to choose. In the end it had been taken out of her hands. David suspected something was wrong and confronted her. Belinda didn’t even need to confirm it; just a downward turn of the eye and he knew. That look on his face, she’d never forget it as he walked out on her and the marriage. And when Jim declared all he’d ever wanted from her was a good time, Belinda had been left alone again. Her best friend and lover: gone.

  To somehow try and make amends, she’d started working for one or two of the charities David was involved with. Belinda had always been interested in doing this, mainly because of the way David’s eyes lit up when he spoke of helping others, so now she decided to actually get in there and try it herself. And it felt good. She did what she could: orphans, the disabled, third world. But there was so much more they needed. If Belinda could have her time back again, could have that money back that she’d wasted, she knew exactly what she’d do with it––no hesitation.

  As for her post collecting tickets, it was something she’d fallen into by accident again. While waiting for a train herself, she’d spotted the position advertised. It was better than the cleaning jobs she’d been forced to accept to pay the bills, and at least people would be looking at her again––would be forced to turn in her direction as she said:

  “Tickets please, thank you.”

  Finishing up in this particular carriage, she turned towards her admiring public. Then Belinda pressed the button on the doors and they hissed open.

  Libra (represented by the scales): Librans are people persons. They will go out of their way to make you feel comfortable, generally put others first and will do whatever they can to help out. As their symbol, the scales, suggests, they love balance and harmony. When things are out of kilter, they are at their most miserable. They can have a very relaxing influence on others, and can be eminently charming––thanks in no small part to their ruler, Venus. This also bestows upon them fantastic looks, so you might find they gravitate towards the beauty or fashion industries. And the more profitable the better, because they do love to blow their cash. But just because they like to see order in their surroundings, this doesn’t mean Librans can find peace within themselves. Quite the contrary. Often they are so busy trying to sort out problems and calm others down that they end up being a big ball of anxiety themselves. It is perhaps a good thing they can mask this so well. Another recognized characteristic of the Libran is their famous indecision. They are just terrible at making up their minds and are likely to be swayed by what others have to say rather than thinking for themselves. They tend to put their loved ones on pedestals, and will work hard at relationships to stop them falling apart. Having said this, they tend to make the same mistakes over and over and never seem to learn from them.

  Ed Pryce said nothing.

  He’d said nothing while they deposited the luggage in one of the compartments at the side of the sliding door; he’d said nothing as they’d located a four-seater table space and sat down around it––Katherine on the other side, with Fraser; he’d said nothing as the train pulled away from the station. He might not have been very good at winning arguments, but he could sulk for Britain when it came down to it.

  Everything he’d done in his life had been for his family. Okay, so he probably wasn’t the most dynamic person in the world. But he always did what he thought was right and tried his best to make his wife and son happy. Ed looked at the expression on his son’s face: the young boy appeared anything but happy. In fact, when was the last time he’d really seen him smile? Ed couldn’t remember. This atmosphere can’t be any good for him.

  Katherine was staring vacantly up the aisle. Ed remembered how happy he’d been when she agreed to marry him. Without a doubt their wedding day had to be the most fantastic day of his whole life. And yes, he knew that in spite of her complaints sometimes she really did love him. He saw it in her eyes when she looked at him, when they shared those special moments together away from the world. Heard it in the responses to his touch, as they lay down together. She’d come around when they arrived at the coast; who needed trips abroad? This silly bickering was pointless.

  Ed opened his mouth to say something, but Katherine got there first.

  “I think I’m going to get a drink from the buffet car,” she declared. “Do you want anything, Fraser?”

  Fraser shook his head solemnly. Katherine got up, brandishing her purse.

  “Could you bring me back a coffee, honey?” asked Ed. He smiled at her hopefully. Katherine blinked a couple of times and then headed up the aisle, towards the doors and beyond to carriage D.

  She’ll come around, Ed said to himself again. She’ll come around.

  Taken from The Daily Record

  Cancer: A problem that’s been plaguing you for some time will finally come to a conclusion. You can no longer ignore something that’s right in front of you, Cancer. Wake up and smell the coffee. Once you’ve done this, things should smooth themselves out eventually. And in all probability your troubles will be over by the end of the day.

  Zachary Tench instinctively looked up as the woman passed him by, purse in her hand.

  Seeing it made him grasp the holdall more tightly. There were more than just a couple of notes and a handful of change inside there. And now she was gone, her skirt’s swishing all he could hear. Zach let out a tired breath.

  The effects of the high had now worn off, but he daren’t chance going to the toilet again. He should try and keep a clear head now that he was finally on the move. And anyway everyone would be able to see exactly how long he was in there… with his holdall. Might raise suspicion. Zach couldn’t afford for that to happen. Not now.

  He should try and relax, maybe listen to some music. That always did the trick usually, although these were very unusual circumstances. Zach reached inside his pocket and pulled out a pair of earphones, only placing one in his ear so he could still tell if anyone crept up behind him. He switched on the small radio and tried tuning it in. He found a classics station first; not really his scene. Then there was some up-and-coming indie-band bashing away and singing about how terrible life was now they were famous, which was strange because all they’d ever sung about before was how terrible life was when you weren’t famous. Zach thumbed the wheel again, and came across the news on a local station.

  “… still looking for the murderer of five young women today, and are appealing for anyone with information to come forward. The first victim, Victoria Styles, was found last month dumped in woodland not far from her home. It’s believed that she was out walking her dog when the attack occurred. Since then the bodies of Kaelene Marsh, Lindsey Thompson, Donna Gates and Sadie Noble have also been discovered in similar states. Chief Inspector Arthur Bellingham, who is leading the investigation, had this to say about the man they were looking for: ‘We’re dealing with a very sick and dangerous individual. If anyone out there knows any––’”

  Zach thumbed on. Fucking police, there wasn’t a chance in hell they’d catch the guy. They were worse than useless. Appealing for information because they didn’t have a clue what they were doing. Was there any wonder people like Wyatt (people like him?) could get away with the things that they did.

  He closed his eyes and saw the face of Colette. The bargirl hadn’t deserved that, nobody des
erved what Wyatt had done to her. And all because she’d seen a little too much and wanted to leave the Casino. There was only one way you left Wyatt’s place once you were on the inside. Once you had information that could do him serious damage.

  You should have done something to stop it. You knew what he was planning to do. But you didn’t have the nerve, did you? Didn’t have the balls. Had enough to pull a fast one when nobody was looking, though, didn’t you? But you stood by when it was something important and you did nothing. Nothing at all. How does that make you feel, Zachary Tench? What exactly does that make you?

  Zach didn’t wish to answer that. He opened his eyes and spun the tuning wheel again, finally losing himself in a cavalcade of heavy metal music.

  Taken from Lifestyle Magazine.

  Scorpio: We can all sit around brooding about past mistakes and about what might have been. The sky is now offering you a chance to put all that behind you if you can. I know what you’re thinking, that’s easier said than done. But if you’re ever to find the lasting peace you’re looking for you’ve got to give yourself a few breaks first, Scorpio.

  The buffet cart wasn’t particularly full, just a couple of people before her in the queue.

  Katherine Pryce joined the line and waited for her turn. The figure in front looked around, and she recognized him as the man from the ticket queue back at the station. The man who had complained. Unlike Ed. His eyes caught hers for a fraction of a second longer than they should have done, and he smiled. Katherine did likewise.

  The man turned back, but not fully this time. He was trying to see her out of the corner of his eye. Katherine looked him up and down, from his shoulder-length hair to his shiny shoes. He was about 5’11’’ or perhaps more––a good few inches taller than her––and broad at the shoulders. Very broad. Katherine’s gaze lingered on him until he looked back at her again. She looked away, self-conscious.