when she might have asked her to do those kind of things to her,
and felt really ashamed that she might have asked Clarke to do those
things to her also. Hard as she tried, she couldn’t remember asking
either of them, but they must have been telling the truth, she must
have done something to make them want to do this to her. Sienna lay 150
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there in perpetual confusion, paralysed into submission. She watched
as the girl below with long dark, nearly black hair closed her eyes so
she didn’t have to look at him. She watched how she turned her head
away from the smell of tobacco on his breath.
Sometimes the girl on the cloud made fun of the little girl below
whilst her mother loved her in that special way. She liked to touch
her, and told her that if anyone else found out they would send her
away and she would never be allowed home again. Sienna didn’t
real y understand why they would take her anywhere, but the thought
of being sent away terrified her.
Perhaps her father might not have left if Sienna was better
behaved, and she remembered thinking that if she could just make
her mother happy then he might come back. She spent many hours
sitting on the orange shagpile rug trying to figure out ways to make
him come home. Darren told her many times that it was her fault that
their mother was so unhappy. “If you hadn’t been born we would all
be a happy family. Mum says so all the time,” he would tell her. She
tried not to believe him although she knew in her heart that what he
said was true. She didn’t know what she had done to make her older
brother be so mean to her.
She didn’t like it when her mother touched her, she acted strangely
and breathed hard. Sometimes she did things that hurt, Sienna soon
learned to control her pain for if she cried the pain would get much
worse and then there were other times when her mother couldn’t stop
picking her up and hugging her. So she had learned to forget about
what Sienna wanted; more than anything Sienna needed to please
others and not make them mad at her, or make them feel bad about
themselves. What effectively had been born a blank canvas was now
an absorbent for other people’s pain. And that in essence became the
validating factor for her sense of self.
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She watched from her cloud as Clarke paused; hovering as he
slid on a deluxe condom already conveniently in his pocket and
then pushed himself on top of her; her underwear was on the floor
beside her feet, his trousers and Armani boxers around his ankles.
She started to laugh at the girl on the couch, who lay with her head
turned to one side whilst Clarke pushed himself roughly inside her.
“No one must know,” he told her as pushed inside her, “it would cost
me my job and my marriage, and to whose benefit would that be,
Sienna? That’s right, no-one’s.” His upper lip curled into a snarl and
for a brief moment she thought she saw pure hatred in his eyes, and
then she berated herself for being judgmental; for when she looked
again he was smiling at her and his expression was soft.
Clarke ejaculated violently and pushed off her, turning to clean
himself with an embroidered handkerchief that had been carefully
pressed by his wife that morning. Sliding off the used rubber, he
folded it inside the cloth and promptly binned it. He stood and
zipped himself up whilst Sienna scrambled for her underwear, her
face burning with shame as she stuffed them into her bag and made
for the door. She would dress in the Ladies, she needed to get out
of here, fast.
He leaned back against his desk, watching in amusement as she
fumbled for the door handle. She opened the door and made to step
through until he called her back.
“Sienna.” She stopped and waited without turning.
“Ward round in the morning, Sienna. Nine o’clock sharp.”
“Yes. Of course”
Sienna spent the bus journey home tormenting herself over what
she had just allowed to happen. She felt a hollowness when she
thought about what she had just done to her relationship with Jay,
she had taken a piece of it away and knew she could never get that
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back again. Beyond that, she felt a deep resentment and anger; anger
at Clarke, anger at Jay but mostly anger at herself. She wasn’t sure
she could stomach facing Jay right now, she was sure he would see it
in her eyes, she looked guilty as hell. She had no idea what she was
going to do. This was not how her life was supposed to have panned
out, none of it was supposed to have happened this way, where had
things gone wrong?
She unlocked the door and slipped in quietly, grateful for once
that Jay lay on the sofa snoring loudly, surrounded by empty wine
bottles. Slipping quietly upstairs with Freya, she ran herself a bath
and contemplated sadly the slow demise of their relationship, she
could remember once upon a time when Jay had been her sole reason
for breathing and she felt asphyxiated if she was apart from him for
too long. She had dissolved at the touch of his fingertips. Nowadays
they barely communicated; when he was awake he was trashed, and
otherwise he was sleeping it off. She couldn’t remember the last time
they made love; she wondered if this was how all relationships turned
out, eventually.
Agitated and restless, Sienna got out of the bath, smoked three
joints consecutively, downed half a bottle of red, and popped a valium.
Clarke had prescribed them, to aid her sleep, he told her, after Linda.
Sienna woke with a feeling of nausea in the pit of her stomach that
burned its way up her gullet and into the back of her throat. Shame
and guilt burned in her face at the memory of what had happened.
Clarke. She reached for her cigarettes and her puffer simultaneously,
and then popped a valium before struggling out of bed.
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Chapter 19
Of one thing you can be certain; whatever you give out you will
receive back tenfold. This is the universal law of attraction and the
universal dictate of every human being. If you feel your life isn’t
going too wel , maybe it’s time to reflect on what it is that you are
sending. You may also be mindful that karma does not always present
itself with trumpets or sirens; it may often arrive in the form of
something small and ordinary. Karma also arrives in the form of
another person, so you need to hope that it is someone that arrives
with good intention; this again depends on your own actions.
Creative Goth
Gavin’s sleep was rudely interrupted by the presence of
someone else in his room; he instinctively thought it was
April and he reached out with the intention of slapping
the bitch for disturbing him, when he remembered that she had left
two weeks ago and gone God only knew where. He hadn’t pursued
her because he felt cocksure she would return at some point; she
couldn’t cope without him for too long.
Before he had time to fully open his eyes, he felt the barrel of a
gun pushing against that tender part of his left temple, right above
his ear, and he froze. With horrified realization, he registered more
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than one individual in the bedroom as the bedside lamp clicked on.
The gun holder smiled, revealing a black space where his front teeth
had once been.
“Hello, Gavin.”
Gavin went limp with terror.
“My name’s Beefcake . . . . Sure we’ve not had the pleasure yet.”
Gavin stared at the overweight, tall, built like a brick shithouse,
ugly bloke. His head was shaved. His right ear held a large gold
hoop. “What the fuck . . . ?” Gavin’s brain scrambled wildly for
rationalization. “Who are you . . . what do you . . . ?”
Someone else laughed; Gavin turned his head and took him in;
small, skinny, weasel-like face; angular limbs that made him seem
awkward. He strode in front of him and stroked him gently under
the chin. “What say take this dick’s money first, and then do him?”
“Easy, Longfellow, don’t want him going anywhere just yet.”
Beefcake dragged him into a sitting position at the edge of the bed,
“Isn’t that right, Gav?” He dragged on the last of his cigarette and
flicked it carelessly into a half empty whiskey glass on the bedside
table.
Longfellow turned and nodded towards a third male who stood
behind himself. His companion smirked and approached Gavin,
leaning in his face; a tall lanky man with greasy, stringy brown hair
hanging in his eyes. He looked sallow and gaunt; carried a deathly
pal or. Gavin wrinkled his nose when he spoke, the breath was rancid
and his teeth half rotten away.
“Rimmer, by the way, before you feel the need to ask.” He stood
upright again, turning his conversation to Beefcake. “I’m with
Longfellow on this one, I just like to get on with the job, you know
how I work.”
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Gavin’s eyes welled with tears; he looked pleadingly from one to
the next. “You want money? I got money, lots of it; you can have it
all.”
Beefcake cracked the handle of the firearm around the back of his
skull. “Stay still now, Gavin, there’s a good boy, I’d like you to meet someone else, let’s see . . . let’s call him Karma for now.”
They all started laughing at this comment. Gavin wondered what
was so funny.
Shaking with fear, he turned his head a little, seeing his captor
nod in the direction of the doorway, and yelped at it being forced
back down so he could only stare at the floor and his feet. His breath
became shallow, he broke out in a cold sweat as he heard someone
else enter the room and approach him. Gavin watched a black pair of
biker boots come into his line of vision, and stop in front of him. He
could only see long legs clad in black canvas. The owner of the boots
slowly lowered onto their haunches and came face to face with him.
Gavin stared hard, had no idea who this was. And Gavin could have
also slapped himself, feeling pretty blown away by the male he was
looking at; he didn’t think he had encountered such a beautiful face.
Gavin continued to stare at his observer for a few seconds; watched
how his lips dragged on a cigarette, how his startling emerald colored
eyes narrowed momentarily as they studied him, and how he flicked
the ash to one side over April’s pristine white carpet. His raven
colored hair hung straight and loose over his shoulders, the glossy
sheen catching the light when he moved; he put Gavin in mind of a
vampire. The guy spoke quietly, an accent Gavin couldn’t place but
knew was southern; his voice was like silk; Gavin tried to turn his
head away in discomfort, as smoke was exhaled directly into his face
with purposeful aim.
“Hello, Gavin . . . I’m Damon.”
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Gavin frowned, and tried to place him. “I don’t know you, what
do you want from me?”
Damon inclined his head a little, stuck the tip of his tongue out
between his teeth in careful contemplation; Gavin noted the glint of
a silver tongue bar as he did.
“You raped my girlfriend.”
Silence ensued with deep threat, no one moved.
Gavin’s thoughts raced, he didn’t understand, he stared with
incomprehension at the vampire before him. This made no sense;
his words came in a flurry of garbled defense. “I raped WHO? I’ve
been nowhere near your girlfriend, I don’t know what you’re talking
about . . . I’ve raped no one . . . . Who’s your girlfriend? Who said
I’ve raped her?” Fresh sweat broke out across his brow and formed in
beads over his upper lip. He had to make these guys see it was all a
mistake, complete mistaken identity.
Damon took the last draw on his smoke, dropped the butt on the
Axminster, and stamped it out. “I said you raped her.”
Gavin stared at him, completely bewildered, Damon returned
his gaze.
“She told me it was you; I decided to pay you a visit.”
Gavin watched him rest his chin on his hand; lean his arm on
his knee. “I raped no one, I DON’T FUCKING KNOW WHO
YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT . . . I DON’T . . . . ,” he began to
stutter, somewhere in his mind he knew he was on borrowed time, he
played his moral upper hand. “I DON’T KNOW WHY SHE SAID
IT WAS ME, I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU’RE TALKING
ABOUT . . . I’M MARRIED . . . I DON’T GO WITH OTHER
WOMEN, I’M FUCKING MARRIED.”
Damon gave a half smile. “I never said you went with any woman
outside of your marriage, I said you raped my girlfriend.”
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It hit him like a thunder bolt. Gavin took an audible sharp intake
of breath and held it. His eyes widened in complete dismay and
horror, his stomach contracted at the realization and he thought he
was going to be sick.
Damon registered his epiphany.
“Are we getting it now, Gavin . . . Do you know who I’m talking
about?”
Gavin’s mouth began opening and closing. He searched his mind
desperately for something to say; he said the only thing he could find.
“It wasn’t rape, what the fuck is she doing with you? We are married;
she’s a lying fat slag . . .”
Damon’s expression hardened, and Gavin physically shrank back
from him and wished he hadn’t opened his mouth. He leaned forward
and gripped his jaw with one hand, pulling Gavin into himself; long
pale fingers splayed, feeling to Gavin like cold death; hard sharp
black fingernails dug deep to his bone. Gavin squeezed his eyes shut
and whimpered at his touch; Damon’s arm pressed into his chest, his
mouth was so close to Gavin’s ear, his lips brushed the surface of the
pliable skin. He felt Damon’s heat through his thin t-shirt; he smelt
the worn leather of the jacket he wore, the fresh cigarette smoke that
clung to him; the underlying essence of soap, shampoo; something
clean; and then he whispered in his ear.
“It is my understanding, that sex without consent, whatever the
circumstance, is the definition of rape. You are filth, Gavin. You
are disgusting. My inclination is to take you out where you sit, but
that would upset April because she’s too gentle and too forgiving
and I won’t do anything to upset her. Unfortunately for you, Gavin,
I’m not gentle and I’m not in the least bit forgiving.” Sliding a
switchblade from his back pocket, Damon flicked it open. Gavin let
out a strangled scream as Damon’s fingers prised down his bottom
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jaw and grabbed his tongue, stretching it out over his bottom lip. He
began to whimper as the switchblade was dug into the soft, yielding
flesh. “What’s it feel like, Gavin? What’s it feel like to be pinned
down and completely powerless? What does it feel like to be totally
at someone else’s mercy? You ever speak about April like that again
and I promise you faithfully that you will lose this by my hand.”
Damon slowly got off him and released his grip as he clicked the
blade closed and placed it back in his canvas pocket. “I’ll leave you
in the hands of my friends, Gavin, they’re not forgiving either.” He
tipped an imaginary hat. “Have a good night.”
He nodded in the direction of Beefcake, who stood silently by
Gavin’s side, and stood up. He turned to go.
“If they do anything to me . . . . Anything at all . . . . I’ll . . . .”
Damon turned around and began to laugh. “You will what?” He
stepped towards him. “Just what will you do, Gavin? . . . Go to the
police? And what will you tell them? That you beat the shit out of
your wife and then raped her?” Damon cocked his head on one side.
“No, didn’t think so . . .”
Gavin felt his head bounce off the wall as Damon’s fist landed a
punch to the side of his jaw before he turned and walked swiftly from
the room. Gavin’s vision went blurry and everything seemed to be
shifting in and out of focus around him, as he spat mouthfuls of blood
onto the carpet and slid off the edge of the bed and onto his knees.
Beefcake smacked him hard around the ear with the muzzle of
the gun. His eardrum rang with the impact, stinging heat seared
through his lobe.
“Now then, where were we, honey pot? Where’s the cash?”
Gavin’s heart began hammering again, his speech was gabbled and
he began stuttering. “Downstairs, my wallet’s in the kitchen with
my credit card.”
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“Maybe it don’t matter shit”, yelled Rimmer, “maybe we just
gonna blow your brains out no matter what you do!” Rimmer started
laughing hysterically.
His voice rose rapidly; “my pin number is 3353, you can take it
all.”
“Get up, you cunt . . . . Get up now, you piece of shit!” Longfel ow
grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. “Get up fucking wife
beater . . . Fucking RAPIST . . . . You got any idea what they do to
RAPISTS in prison? Do you?”
Beefcake kneed him hard in the groin, “You think this piece of
shit would be bothered about that?”
Rimmer started to jump around excitedly as Gavin doubled over
and started retching. “This little baby looks like he takes it up the
ass, he would be dropping his pants and holding his ass as high in
the air as he could manage . . . It would be like fucking Heaven for
him.” Longfellow smirked, “Maybe we should just hand the nancy
boy in . . . Let him go find his natural vocation as a bitch?”
Beefcake shook his head. “Nah. Prison’s too good for this bitch.
See . . .” he paused and drew Gavin by his neckline directly up into
his face, “I don’t like wife beaters and I certainly don’t have any time for rapists . . . You fit both categories so in my book you’re pretty
much dead . . .”
Pushing him out of the room and down the stairs, Gavin
stumbled and slid heavily to the bottom. Longfellow glided past
him and dragged him to his feet. “Come on now, Gavin, no lying
down on the job. Plenty of time for that later.”
Beefcake let out a snort. “Let’s go for a little ride, Gavin.”
“Please, I’m sorry . . . . I’m so, so sorry.”
“Yeah, sure you are, Gavin. Maybe you should have thought
twice about what you WERE FUCKING DOING WHEN YOU
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RAPED DAMON’S MISSUS. HUH? MAYBE?” Rimmer spat in
his face as Longfellow trussed his hands behind his back and Gavin
started to sob, twisting his head violently from side to side as Rimmer taped his mouth and pulled a bag over his head.
Someone grabbed him by the scruff of the neck; the door opened
and he was thrust into the cool night’s air. Rimmer started to cackle
loudly.
“Shut the fuck up, Rim.” Beefcake’s voice was hushed and held
some urgency. “We don’t want anyone seeing us with this cunt.”
He heard someone flick a lighter and the smell of tobacco filled his
nostrils as a door popped open and he was pushed head first into the
boot of a car. He landed face down, banging his head and split his
lip open as he hit against metal. The boot slammed shut and he was
engulfed in suffocating blackness.
He heard muffled voices, more doors opening and closing, and
the engine shuddered into life.
“You want some sounds on, Gavin? Let’s get this party on the
road then,” Rimmer yel ed in his direction, banging on the back seat.
“Listen up, Gav baby . . . This one’s for you.”
The sounds of Careless Whisper by George Michael blasted
through the speakers.
“Fuck, Rim . . . . Turn this shit off,” Beefcake yelled above the
noise. The car sped up, and Gavin lurched from side to side in the
boot. The nausea rose in his throat and he was thrown again as the
car swerved another corner. The journey seemed endless as the car
sped on, Gavin felt total y disorientated to time and place as he rol ed around in the boot and tried not to throw up. The car suddenly came
to a halt and the boot popped open.
“Get out, you wanker. Get the fuck out of my car; you make it
stink like shit. Get out.” Beefcake dragged him to the ground by the
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shoulders. He fell directly onto his chin, his lower body still inside
the boot.
“Fucking idiot . . . Fucking look at you . . . . Jesus Christ, act with some fucking decorum.”
Beefcake dragged him along the dirt and ripped the bag from
his head. Gavin inhaled long lungful’s of air through his nostrils,
his chest heaving as he adjusted to his new surroundings. He had no
idea where he was, they had driven down a dirt track into some kind
of parkland, dense with trees. There were no signs of life, not even a
passing car could be heard in the distance. It was pitch black and not
even the stars could be seen tonight.
“Enjoy the ride?” Longfellow’s eyes were dilated with madness.
He jittered around excitedly and dug his heel sharply into Gavin’s
ribcage, causing him to cry out. Rimmer kicked him hard in the same
spot. Gavin curled his legs up to his chest in pain.
“Settle down. Jeez. Don’t you go losing the plot like you did on
the last job.” Beefcake ground his cigarette out with his boot. “Let’s
get this sorted right away.”
Gavin let out a mewl of pain as Rimmer ripped the masking tape
from his mouth. “Scream as much as you want out here, bitch, there
ain’t no-one going to hear you.”
Gavin’s hands still trussed behind his back, Longfellow grabbed
him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him further into the
woodland until he could no longer see the dirt track.
“Don’t kill me, I’m sorry, don’t kill me. Please. I won’t do it
again.” He stumbled from tree trunk to tree trunk in the darkness.
“To be certain, Gavin, you most definitely won’t do it again.”
Longfellow pushed him onward. “You won’t do it again because you
won’t ever be going near Damon’s girlfriend again. Not ever. You
won’t go near her, you won’t contact her and you will not see her
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ever again. You will not go within a fifty mile radius of the woman
as long as you continue to live your fucked up, putrid, futile life.
Understand me?”
Gavin nodded furiously. “Anything at al . Just let me go. Anything
you want.”
“This’ll do.” They stopped moving and propped Gavin up against
a large Yew. Beefcake knelt in front of him and Gavin watched with
complete horror as Beefcake unzipped him, wrenched down his jeans
and boxers and grabbed hold of his flaccid penis. Pulling a flathead
screwdriver from the back pocket of his denims, Beefcake held it
up on full view of the moonlight that had slid out from behind the
clouds.
“No, don’t please, no.” He understood what was a