resting on the floor as if to
anchor himself. A thick brown ponytail with sun-bleached split ends nestled like a pet snake in the nape of his muscular neck.
Dwarfing the bunk with his beefiness, he looked like a bouncer who had been in an all-night brawl: his T-shirt was torn in
several places, and his jeans were dark with dirt and bloodstains.
Stan pushed her inside, clanged the gate shut.
Mikey gave a muffled groan.
India shrank back and immediately her shoulders connected with the chill of steel bars.
The big black bat of fear returned to flutter through her entrails.
“Truly, you don’t have to do this,” Stan said, sorrowfully shaking his head at her.
You’ve been scared half to hell and back before, India told herself.
Don’t give in now
.
“Come on,” said Stan persuasively. “You don’t want to be shut up with the likes of Mikey, all for the sake of signing a little
bit of paper.” He was holding up the bunch of keys as if to tempt her outside, his expression sympathetic.
India glanced at Mikey, the way he was snuffling in his sleep. She shook her head. She’d never forgive herself for being tricked
into confessing to something she hadn’t done just to avoid spending the night with a man who—she reminded herself in panicky
optimism—she hadn’t even met yet.
Stan locked the gate. “Just give us a shout,” he said coaxingly, “and I’ll get you outta there pronto, no harm done.”
Dry-mouthed, India slid along the bars to the corner farthest from Mikey and slowly sank to the floor, listening to Stan’s
footsteps recede. She barely took in the walls, scratched with names and drawings of male and female genitalia. She was watching
Mikey the Knife sprawled on his bunk, sleeping sweetly as a baby.
F IVE
I NDIA WAS FIGHTING TO REMAIN AWAKE.
Mikey the Knife had slept continuously for about two hours now, and she had watched him, petrified of what would happen when
he regained consciousness. Would he beat her up first? Or would he rape her? Should she bluff it out and face him head on?
Or should she curl up in the corner and not move, and let Mikey kick the shit out of her until he tired of it?
But I know what broken ribs feel like,
she thought. I know what it is to have a man’s fist bury itself into your midriff so hard and fast you can’t help but vomit.
And when he punches you in your kidneys, just so, with a hard twist right up in the corner, I can recall exactly the thought
that goes through your mind: I want to die.
Don’t go talking like that, hon. It doesn’t do you no good.
Lauren?
Who else? And at the risk of sounding stupid, what the heck are you doing in there?
It’s a mistake, that’s all.
Well, just you watch out, girl. He looks mean enough to scare a scorpion into hiding.
I’ll act tough.
You do that.
India’s eyes suddenly flicked open. Mikey was still sprawled on his bunk in the same position. The fluorescent lights continued
to glare uncompromisingly.
It was just my imagination talking to Lauren
, she thought dazedly.
My subconscious can’t cope with the fact she’s dead. That she’ll never be coming to the rescue again. That I’m alone.
But what if I do have a grandfather here? Then I won’t be alone. Lauren said he was fabulous. Which means he’ll look like
Father Christmas with a shock of white hair, a thick curly beard and twinkling blue eyes … Huh! Knowing my family he may look
sweet, but he’s probably into chain-saw massacres in his spare time.
India closed her eyes. Almost immediately she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
She had no idea what time it was when Stanley Bacon returned. She was shocked awake by the loud jangle of the gate behind
her and immediately sprang to her feet, heart pounding.
“You look just about ready to do business,” said Stan with a sly grin.
She glanced at Mikey, who didn’t seem to have moved a millimeter since she’d first laid eyes on him. If a brass band had been
anchor himself. A thick brown ponytail with sun-bleached split ends nestled like a pet snake in the nape of his muscular neck.
Dwarfing the bunk with his beefiness, he looked like a bouncer who had been in an all-night brawl: his T-shirt was torn in
several places, and his jeans were dark with dirt and bloodstains.
Stan pushed her inside, clanged the gate shut.
Mikey gave a muffled groan.
India shrank back and immediately her shoulders connected with the chill of steel bars.
The big black bat of fear returned to flutter through her entrails.
“Truly, you don’t have to do this,” Stan said, sorrowfully shaking his head at her.
You’ve been scared half to hell and back before, India told herself.
Don’t give in now
.
“Come on,” said Stan persuasively. “You don’t want to be shut up with the likes of Mikey, all for the sake of signing a little
bit of paper.” He was holding up the bunch of keys as if to tempt her outside, his expression sympathetic.
India glanced at Mikey, the way he was snuffling in his sleep. She shook her head. She’d never forgive herself for being tricked
into confessing to something she hadn’t done just to avoid spending the night with a man who—she reminded herself in panicky
optimism—she hadn’t even met yet.
Stan locked the gate. “Just give us a shout,” he said coaxingly, “and I’ll get you outta there pronto, no harm done.”
Dry-mouthed, India slid along the bars to the corner farthest from Mikey and slowly sank to the floor, listening to Stan’s
footsteps recede. She barely took in the walls, scratched with names and drawings of male and female genitalia. She was watching
Mikey the Knife sprawled on his bunk, sleeping sweetly as a baby.
F IVE
I NDIA WAS FIGHTING TO REMAIN AWAKE.
Mikey the Knife had slept continuously for about two hours now, and she had watched him, petrified of what would happen when
he regained consciousness. Would he beat her up first? Or would he rape her? Should she bluff it out and face him head on?
Or should she curl up in the corner and not move, and let Mikey kick the shit out of her until he tired of it?
But I know what broken ribs feel like,
she thought. I know what it is to have a man’s fist bury itself into your midriff so hard and fast you can’t help but vomit.
And when he punches you in your kidneys, just so, with a hard twist right up in the corner, I can recall exactly the thought
that goes through your mind: I want to die.
Don’t go talking like that, hon. It doesn’t do you no good.
Lauren?
Who else? And at the risk of sounding stupid, what the heck are you doing in there?
It’s a mistake, that’s all.
Well, just you watch out, girl. He looks mean enough to scare a scorpion into hiding.
I’ll act tough.
You do that.
India’s eyes suddenly flicked open. Mikey was still sprawled on his bunk in the same position. The fluorescent lights continued
to glare uncompromisingly.
It was just my imagination talking to Lauren
, she thought dazedly.
My subconscious can’t cope with the fact she’s dead. That she’ll never be coming to the rescue again. That I’m alone.
But what if I do have a grandfather here? Then I won’t be alone. Lauren said he was fabulous. Which means he’ll look like
Father Christmas with a shock of white hair, a thick curly beard and twinkling blue eyes … Huh! Knowing my family he may look
sweet, but he’s probably into chain-saw massacres in his spare time.
India closed her eyes. Almost immediately she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
She had no idea what time it was when Stanley Bacon returned. She was shocked awake by the loud jangle of the gate behind
her and immediately sprang to her feet, heart pounding.
“You look just about ready to do business,” said Stan with a sly grin.
She glanced at Mikey, who didn’t seem to have moved a millimeter since she’d first laid eyes on him. If a brass band had been
Similar Books
