wrist, but his opponent was quicker, pulling him close and slapping his temple so hard that John-Paul lost his bearings. The next thing he knew, he was face down in someone’s garden with his teeth grinding dirt.
‘You can’t stop me, you cunt. I’ll stop when I’ve broken her.’
When Jen’s dad heard about the incident, he told Jen and John-Paul that he’d sort Zen out for good. They knew what he meant, but, rather than feel relieved, John-Paul felt impotent.
He was terrified of Zen. As soon as he’d accepted this fact, he felt better. Rather than hiding from the threat and hoping it would go away, he could create a solution. Zen had helped him acknowledge this fear in the park – he had crumbled. He cringed as he remembered the incident that took place three weeks ago. But he’d come close to dying, what else could he have done? He considered himself to be a tough individual, but there was always someone harder. Zen could be degraded too. He would be. John-Paul promised himself that he’d witness that. Imagining this, though, brought him closer to Zen and an iron lump pressed at his throat. Chills danced on his spine and he couldn’t make a fist. He had to talk to someone about this. It would mean sacrificing respect - his image would be in tatters – but he had to talk to someone. He had kept his dilemma secret because of pride. He couldn’t tell Jen. To her he was a rock, and to see him broken by Zen would send her plummeting to the depths of despair. No, he’d resolve this himself and Zen would pay. He couldn’t assure himself of this for very long, before he drifted into an uncomfortable sleep.
12
As Ryan wiped sleep from his eyes and waited for them to adjust to the daylight, he recognised the blur as Ginger’s unkempt hair. His friend was sat on a chair, grinning at him.
‘Wake up, boy,’ Ginger cried, ‘it’s the first of October, a whole new fucking month!’
‘Ginger!’ Ryan laughed. ‘How the fuck did you get in here?’
Ginger smiled mischievously. ‘Ways and means, boy. Good kip?’
Ryan yawned. ‘Yeah. What’ve you been doing?’
‘Ah, training – running, weights, that sort of shite. Why ain’t you got a TV set?’
‘Because I’m not paying a hundred quid for two channels of shite.’
‘Don’t pay then, watch it for free.’
‘I’ve got better things to do than dribble in front of a fucking screen.’
‘I get your point, lad, but you have to keep up with the news. D’you listen to the radio?’ Ginger asked.
‘No. It’s all adverts. They piss me off. I read the paper.’ Ryan pushed himself up and leaned over the side of the bed.
Ginger stared at Ryan’s naked body. ‘You’re in good shape, boy,’ he said. ‘You feel ready to put that muscle to good use?’
Ryan stared at Ginger and spoke seriously. ‘I think I’m ready.’
‘You killed before?’
Ryan closed his eyes and concentrated. ‘… I think so.’
Ginger laughed. ‘You fucking think so ? Jesus, you’re one in a million, boy. It’s not the type of job you forget!’
‘Well I remember people dying in front of me. I remember killing them, but I can’t separate fact and fiction.’
Ginger’s eyes narrowed. ‘I see, I see,’ he said. ‘So either it’s real, or you imagined it?’
‘Yeah, but I could have been dreaming.’
Ginger nodded. ‘Well, all that’s needed here is a bit of soul searching. Tune into your psyche and search for dates and times. Find names and locate the wounds. That’s all the information we need. I’ll be back. I’m just taking a shit.’
Ginger left the room. Ryan massaged his temples. Where was his past? He believed it was out of his reach now. So much of his time was spent fantasising that it was hard to tell what had really happened. Certain things could never be forgotten, but ordinary events he thought might have been real had blended with his imagination and appeared indistinct. It was so hard to focus on the past, but that
‘You can’t stop me, you cunt. I’ll stop when I’ve broken her.’
When Jen’s dad heard about the incident, he told Jen and John-Paul that he’d sort Zen out for good. They knew what he meant, but, rather than feel relieved, John-Paul felt impotent.
He was terrified of Zen. As soon as he’d accepted this fact, he felt better. Rather than hiding from the threat and hoping it would go away, he could create a solution. Zen had helped him acknowledge this fear in the park – he had crumbled. He cringed as he remembered the incident that took place three weeks ago. But he’d come close to dying, what else could he have done? He considered himself to be a tough individual, but there was always someone harder. Zen could be degraded too. He would be. John-Paul promised himself that he’d witness that. Imagining this, though, brought him closer to Zen and an iron lump pressed at his throat. Chills danced on his spine and he couldn’t make a fist. He had to talk to someone about this. It would mean sacrificing respect - his image would be in tatters – but he had to talk to someone. He had kept his dilemma secret because of pride. He couldn’t tell Jen. To her he was a rock, and to see him broken by Zen would send her plummeting to the depths of despair. No, he’d resolve this himself and Zen would pay. He couldn’t assure himself of this for very long, before he drifted into an uncomfortable sleep.
12
As Ryan wiped sleep from his eyes and waited for them to adjust to the daylight, he recognised the blur as Ginger’s unkempt hair. His friend was sat on a chair, grinning at him.
‘Wake up, boy,’ Ginger cried, ‘it’s the first of October, a whole new fucking month!’
‘Ginger!’ Ryan laughed. ‘How the fuck did you get in here?’
Ginger smiled mischievously. ‘Ways and means, boy. Good kip?’
Ryan yawned. ‘Yeah. What’ve you been doing?’
‘Ah, training – running, weights, that sort of shite. Why ain’t you got a TV set?’
‘Because I’m not paying a hundred quid for two channels of shite.’
‘Don’t pay then, watch it for free.’
‘I’ve got better things to do than dribble in front of a fucking screen.’
‘I get your point, lad, but you have to keep up with the news. D’you listen to the radio?’ Ginger asked.
‘No. It’s all adverts. They piss me off. I read the paper.’ Ryan pushed himself up and leaned over the side of the bed.
Ginger stared at Ryan’s naked body. ‘You’re in good shape, boy,’ he said. ‘You feel ready to put that muscle to good use?’
Ryan stared at Ginger and spoke seriously. ‘I think I’m ready.’
‘You killed before?’
Ryan closed his eyes and concentrated. ‘… I think so.’
Ginger laughed. ‘You fucking think so ? Jesus, you’re one in a million, boy. It’s not the type of job you forget!’
‘Well I remember people dying in front of me. I remember killing them, but I can’t separate fact and fiction.’
Ginger’s eyes narrowed. ‘I see, I see,’ he said. ‘So either it’s real, or you imagined it?’
‘Yeah, but I could have been dreaming.’
Ginger nodded. ‘Well, all that’s needed here is a bit of soul searching. Tune into your psyche and search for dates and times. Find names and locate the wounds. That’s all the information we need. I’ll be back. I’m just taking a shit.’
Ginger left the room. Ryan massaged his temples. Where was his past? He believed it was out of his reach now. So much of his time was spent fantasising that it was hard to tell what had really happened. Certain things could never be forgotten, but ordinary events he thought might have been real had blended with his imagination and appeared indistinct. It was so hard to focus on the past, but that
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