Broken White: The Complete Series

by Amy Cross

  Elly

  Today

  "No," Jess gasps suddenly, pulling away. She stares at me with a look of absolute shock.

  "What's wrong?" I ask, looking down at my glistening, wet finger.

  "This is wrong," she says. "This is really, really wrong!"

  My heart racing, I look over at Mark and see that he's got the same impassive look on his face as ever. I swear to God, I can never really work out what's going through that man's mind, and right now I could really use some help. Instead, he seems to be acting almost as if he's watching a play at the theater; he's just staring at us, amused by what's happening but not even trying to help.

  "I'm sorry," Jess mutters, scooping up her clothes and hurrying, naked, over to the bathroom.

  "Wait!" I call out, running after her. I get to the bathroom door just as she slams it shut, and a moment later I hear the lock being engaged. "Jess!" I shout. "Come on, let's talk about this!" I wait for an answer. "Please," I continue, "I don't want this to be weird, okay? Just come out and talk to me!"

  Silence.

  "Maybe she needs some space," Mark suggests from the other side of the room.

  "Jess!" I shout. "Let's just talk about it! We can go somewhere else! Just you and me, yeah? Like the old days? We can go and work out what to do next! This was just a bit of a joke that got totally out of hand!"

  Silence.

  "She can't handle the situation," Mark says. "She's just -"

  "Shut up!" I shout, turning back to face him. "Can't you just stop?" I stare at him, almost shaking with anger. I feel as if I'm on the verge of losing the best friend I've ever had, and Mark seems to view the whole thing as a kind of spectacle, as if it's all designed to amuse him. "Just let me talk to her," I continue, managing to calm down a little. "She's upset. I need to make sure she's okay".

  "Why wouldn't she be okay?" Mark asks.

  Sighing, I turn back to the door and wait for Jess to respond. All I hear, however, is a faint shuffling sound from inside the bathroom. I guess she's getting dressed right now.

  "Things got out of hand," I say, banging my fist languidly against the door. "We got carried away in the moment, okay? We did a couple of things we shouldn't have done, but that doesn't mean we have to ignore each other, does it?" I wait in vain for a reply. "Jess, you're my best friend," I continue, "we need to -"

  Suddenly the door opens and I come face to face with her. She's fully clothed again, and she stares at me with the cold, hardened expression of a complete stranger.

  "Maybe we should talk alone," I say, hoping that maybe there's some way I can get through to her. From the look in her eyes, however, I'm already worried that I've lost her forever.

  "There's nothing to talk about," she replies, her voice sounding completely devoid of emotion. "It was just a little thing on the sofa, that's all. Nothing to worry about, really". She stares at me for a moment. "Come on, Elly. I know you've led a sheltered life, but try not to blow little things up into something they're not. It was a mistake. Big deal. Forget it. I should be getting going, anyway". With that, she pushes past me and hurries toward the door.

  "Wait!" I call out, hurrying after her. "Look, I get that you're embarrassed, but it's not like it was a big thing. You said yourself -"

  "I'm not embarrassed," she replies, fumbling with the door handle until finally she gets it open and steps out into the hallway. "I just think things went way too far, and now would be a good time to step back and let everything cool off". She pauses, as if she's waiting for me to say something. "Let's not make this weird, okay?" she continues eventually, with a desperate, panicked look in her eyes. "There's something about this fucking whole situation, like the money and the penthouse and stuff... It's like being up here is a different world, like it's completely separate from everywhere else. That wasn't us in there. That was..." She glances past me for a moment, as if she's looking for Mark. "Let's just cool it," she says, "and get things back to how they used to be. And be careful, okay? It's all just kind of weird up here".

  I stand and watch helplessly as she hurries toward the elevator. Once she's gone, I stay in the doorway, trying to work out what just happened. I'm trembling, and I feel like I just made a huge mistake. The power of the moment seemed to overwhelm us both, and we definitely crossed a line that neither of us would normally even have approached. I've never had any kind of sexual attraction to Jess or to any other girl, and the thought is shocking to me right now, but for a few minutes this evening, Mark seemed to get into our heads and tease us until we weren't ourselves.

  "Elly?" Mark says after a moment.

  "Yeah?" I reply, not turning to him.

  "Jess left the money".

  I take a deep breath.

  "Maybe you should go down and give it to her before she leaves," he continues, his distant voice sounding strangely cold and small in the large apartment. "Or if you've got her account details, I can -"

  "Don't worry about it," I say.

  "She doesn't want the money?"

  "I guess not".

  "Well, if she changes her mind, let me know and I'll get it to her. I doubt she can afford to turn her nose up at twenty thousand pounds".

  "Did you do that on purpose?" I ask, turning to him.

  "What?" he asks, as he puts the money back into his pocket.

  "Were you building up to that the whole evening? Getting her naked and then getting us to... do things?"

  He shakes his head.

  "It wasn't some kind of master-plan?"

  He shakes his head again. "I just thought it was a bit of fun. I admit it kind of went too far, but she seemed to want to do it".

  "And how much further would you have been willing to let it go?" I ask.

  He shrugs.

  "Did you want me to..."

  He waits for me to finish the sentence. "It was a game," he says eventually. "A game within a game, actually. I was genuinely interested in what she had to say about morality. I wanted to put her ideas to the test, and I think we did that very effectively, don't you?" He pauses. "She seems to have had ambitions to abandon her sense of morality, but she couldn't go through with it".

  "It wasn't about morality," I reply. "It was about her getting turned on".

  "Exactly. And that's always going to win out over morality. The body beats the mind, every time".

  "Do you think Jess would be good at the game?" I ask.

  He frowns.

  "Serious question," I continue, still loitering by the door. "Do you think there are any circumstances in which you'd get Jess to be part of the game?"

  "I hadn't thought about it," he says.

  "You hadn't?"

  He shakes his head.

  "Well, think about it," I reply. "Do you think she'd be good at the game?"

  "The fact that she ran out of here suggests not".

  "Did you want to fuck her?"

  "Elly -"

  "Did you want to fuck her?" I ask again. "This whole thing with the game... It seems like, lately, the game has taken a backseat. You keep telling me that I have to go and see Mr. White, but it never actually happens. Is the game just this elaborate bullshit you've made up to get women?"

  "No," he says firmly.

  "Then why has everything stopped?"

  "In case you've forgotten," he replies, "the police are interested in the death of one of my former girlfriends. Don't you think that's a very good reason to cool things down for a while? The game can withstand a period of rest. Well, to be honest, the game doesn't like it very much, but some things just have to be accepted".

  "There you go again," I say, "making it sound like the game's alive".

  "It's late," he replies, checking his watch. "Maybe -"

  "I'm going out," I say suddenly, surprising myself. For some reason, even though it's the small hours of the morning, I feel like I want to go and see my mother. Just for a few hours.

  "Where are you going?" Mark asks.

  "I promised my mother I'd go and see her,"
I tell him.

  "Your mother?" He checks his watch again. "Elly, it's -"

  "I know," I say, grabbing my coat, "but I've got a key, and I'd like to surprise her in the morning".

  "Are you going after Jess?"

  "No," I say. "I'm really, honestly just going to see my mother. And I'll be back, I promise. I'll be back tomorrow evening, okay? Maybe we can do something a bit more normal, like go out to dinner?" I wait for him to reply. "Can we just go out to dinner like normal people?"

  "Maybe," he replies.

  "Maybe?"

  "Maybe".

  I sigh. When Mark says 'maybe', what he really means is that he'll need time to come up with an excuse. There's no way we're going to dinner tomorrow night. In fact, I doubt he's ever going to take me out to dinner. We're not a normal couple. Whatever we have between us, it's strange and weird and fucked-up, and although it's kind of exciting, I'm starting to wonder whether it's what I really want.

  "I'll be back tomorrow," I say, stepping out into the corridor. "I just really want to check up on my mother, okay?"

  "Okay".

  Pulling the door shut, I stand in stunned silence for a moment. After everything that's happened tonight, Mark doesn't seem to give a damn about where I'm going, or even whether I'm truly coming back. The truth is, I'm not sure I am coming back. Until tonight, I've enjoyed spending time with Mark and I've had fun fantasizing about the game and about the kind of things I might experience; I've wanted to explore myself sexually and to get involved with things that are a little dark and kinky. Right now, however, the whole thing feels cheap and tawdry. It's as if I've been caught up in this strange bubble, and now the bubble has burst. Turning and walking away from Mark's penthouse apartment, I'm overcome by the feeling that I'll probably never come back. Not unless he shows me that he cares, anyway.

  Jonathan Pope

  1901

  I spend hours trying to pick the lock, but the broken piece of bone is too big and eventually I have to stop and make it narrower. The process is slow and time-consuming, but soon I'm back at work, jiggling the piece of bone in the lock and trying desperately to get the door open. With proper tools, the job would have taken just a few minutes, but with a piece of bone it's a much longer process. At times, I feel as if I should give up and accept my fate, but I force myself to keep going and eventually, just when it seems as if all hope is lost, I feel the lock's internal mechanism flick aside, and the door swings open.

  "Sorry, Gregor," I say, glancing back at the dead body. "Turns out there is a way out after all. Couldn't have done it without you, though".

  Barely able to believe that this desperate plan has worked, I sit in stunned silence for a moment. Eventually, however, I get to my feet and stagger out into the dirty, rat-infested corridor. There's no sign of any of the guards, but I still need to be careful; if the other prisoners realize that I've escaped, they'll call for me to open their doors, and I don't have time to do anything other than find a way out of here. I've been in some desperate situations before, but I've never felt so focused on a single goal: I have to get out of this place and kill Harrison Blake. I've killed men for many reasons in the past, but never pure, old-fashioned revenge.

  I push my cell door shut before making my way quietly along the corridor, gripping the piece of broken bone in case I need to use it as a weapon. Although I've achieved a great deal simply by getting out of the cell, there's still a long way to go before I'm out of Sodmarsh. This is one of the largest prisons in London, and its labyrinthine corridors stretch and wind for miles; it's almost as if the place was deliberately built to be confusing, so that prisoners would never be able to find their way out.

  Hearing some voices up ahead, I step into an alcove and wait while some guards pass at the next intersection. Their interminable conversation drifts along the corridor, and for a moment I'm tempted to go and attack them. Finally, however, they part ways, and one of them heads off along another corridor while the other starts coming in my direction. I wait until he's almost upon me, and then I rush at him and ram the bone straight into his neck, while clamping my hand over his mouth in order to ensure that he doesn't scream. There's a brief struggle, as blood flows from the wound in his neck, but I manage to drag the sharp edge of the bone down the side of his neck and finally I'm able to overpower him. I have to hold him tight for a few seconds while he struggles, but finally the blood stops flowing quite so freely and he falls unconscious to the floor. I drag his body around the next corner and then I strip his clothes away.

  A few minutes later, wearing the guard's uniform and with his keys jangling from my waist, I make my way along another corridor. I still don't know how to find the exit, and I know that sooner or later someone's going to realize that I'm an imposter, but right now I figure I just need to walk confidently and try to get to the main gate. Prisoners jeer at me from their cells as I pass, and it's clear that they, at least, have been fooled. Still, I can't afford to relax, even if there's a part of me that would dearly love to open every cell door in the entire prison and let these rotten, convicted men flood the building and slaughter the guards. Sodmarsh is home to some of London's most notorious murderers, and I'm sure they'd very much like to get their hands on the sadistic bastards who've been keeping them locked away for so long. Still, I don't have time to indulge in such fantasies. I need to get the hell out of here, rather than starting a riot.

  Finally, I reach the main yard, and I see the gate nearby. I glance back the way I came, and although there are a few guards getting on with their duties, it seems that no-one has noticed me. I start walking over to the gate, while reaching into my pocket and double-checking that the shard of bone is still secure. It's hard to believe that I could have come so close to making my escape, but with the sun starting to rise in the distance, it's now or never: in just an hour or so, the guards are due to come and drag me from my cell, ready for my execution. All they'll find, however, will be the dead body of Gregor, with part of his arm missing. Sometimes, a desperate gambit can actually pay off.

  "Not so fast, Mr. Pope," says a nearby voice.

  Ignoring the voice, I keep walking. After all, it might be a trick...

  "Where exactly do you think you're going?" the voice asks.

  Stopping dead in my tracks, I pause for a moment before turning to find two guards watching me from nearby. I glance back at the gate for a moment, and that's when I make a run for it. Pulling the sharp piece of bone from my pocket, I slam into the gate and fumble for the keys. Just as I've got the right key into the lock, however, I'm pulled back and thrown to the ground. Lashing out with the piece of bone, I manage to cut the gut of one of the guards, but the other guard is able to crack my arm over his knee, causing me to drop my only weapon. Despite the agony, I try to get up, only to be kicked back down; seconds later, I'm rolled onto my chest and my face is forced down into the mud. I struggle again, and after a moment I realize that I can't breathe. Gasping for air, I end up with a mouthful of mud, but finally I'm lifted up.

  "We were told to keep a special eye on you, Mr. Pope," sneers the guard, leaning closer. "Orders from the top. The very fucking top, as it happens. Seems you've made some powerful enemies and they're very keen to make sure you hang. You're a smart fellow, I'll give you that, but you're not smart enough to get out of here. No-one's ever escaped from Sodmarsh, and no-one ever will".

  He hauls me up onto my feet and quickly cuffs my hands behind my back. While another guard tends to his injured colleague, who's rolling on the ground in agony, I'm led across the yard and around the side of the main building until, finally, I spot a scaffold glinting in the early morning light, with a noose hanging from the main support.

  "We might as well get this over with while you're out here," the guard says, pushing me forward. "Don't worry, though. I'm sure it won't hurt too much. Just a little pain in the neck, that's all".

  Elly

  Today

  It's 4am by the time I get to my mother's house. Figuring that
I should just let myself in, go to bed, and then surprise her in the morning, I slide my key into the lock as quietly as possible, before pushing the door open and stepping into the hallway. As I quietly push the door shut again, I find myself feeling hugely relieved that I'm back. I've missed this house, and the smell, and I've even missed my mother. I feel bad for having left her to rattle around alone in here for the past month, and this visit is long overdue. I don't know how she's coping with her new life, without my father, but I'd be a bad daughter if I didn't come and say hello every so often.

  Before heading up to my old room, I decide to go and get a drink. Lost in a world of thoughts, and still not entirely sure what I'm going to do about Mark, I wander through to the kitchen, and -

  Suddenly I come face to face with a naked man.

  Standing by the open fridge door, his body bathed in the cold electric light while he drinks directly from a carton of milk, there's a real, live, actual naked guy. He looks to be in his late forties or fifties, and he stares back at me with a look of total surprise.

  "Who the fuck are you?" I blurt out.

  "Um," he mutters, holding the milk carton over his penis. "You must be Elly".

  "Who are you?" I ask again.

  "Bob," he replies, pushing the fridge door shut and stepping behind the kitchen counter. "Bob Stokes".

  "Why are you here?" I ask. "Where's my mother?"

  "Right here, dear," says a voice from behind me. I turn to see my sheepish-looking mother standing at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a dressing gown. "What are you doing here?" she asks. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"