moment,” Bish said, going outside into the hallway. “Michael? Get down here and give me a hand!” he bellowed.
“Tim,” Craig frantically hissed. “Wake up, for fuck’s sake.”
Tim groaned, and Craig breathed a sigh of relief.
He’s not dead. Yet. But he sure as shit ain’t moving either…
The dead weight of Jessie’s arms bore down on his chest and as much as he longed to shake them off, he didn’t dare.
“Craig,” Tim called out in a hoarse voice. “I can’t move man, I’m fucking paralysed. I can’t feel my legs, I can’t feel a fucking thing. Where’s Jessie? Have you seen Jessie?”
“Shit, man,” Craig replied, his heart breaking all over again.
Craig assessed him. There was nothing obviously wrong with him that he could see. Apart from his fucked feet, that is. He was missing the toes of his right foot and the side of his left foot was a pulpy mess. But surely that was no reason for paralysis? In that split second Craig was just grateful that he wasn’t able to turn his head and see his dismembered girlfriend draped over him in segments. The long wooden table on which Tim lay on long ways was the same as the tables in the pub, complete with long wooden benches running either side of it. It must have been over twelve foot and almost ran the length of the room. At either end of it were two, plain, wooden dining chairs.
The room itself was spartan and the window was boarded up.
On closer inspection Craig saw that Tim was lying on what looked like the biggest, fuck off wooden chopping board he had ever seen in his life.
Fuck man, that’s not good…
“ Craig. You didn’t answer me. Where’s Jessie?”
Craig was saved from answering by the arrival of Bish, accompanied by man mountain Michael. Without a word Michael scooped up a leg and an arm of Jessie’s and exited the dining room.
Three trips later and Jessie had been completely removed.
Next Michael unbuckled Craig and effortlessly threw him over his shoulder.
Craig screamed in agony, his stump bashing against the man’s chest.
Humiliation mixed with terror when he felt his jeans and underpants being tugged down his thighs. Cool air hit his bare rump and inside he curled up and died of shame.
He was dropped into a chair at the end of the table. He landed with a painful thump on his backside, knocking the blood curdling cry out of him with a hard whoosh.
“Get off me,” he sobbed, fresh pain so extreme coursing through him his entire body convulsed.
“Oh God man, I can’t feel a fucking thing,” Tim said, crying softly all the while.
Craig had no idea what to say to him. He was sick to his soul of this grotesque nightmare that there was no waking up from.
“What are you cunts doing?” he said.
All he could do was sit there sobbing, mentally and physically exhausted as Michael proceeded to tie him to the chair with a length of thick rope.
Bish sat down on the bench next to him and regarded him thoughtfully while Michael silently finished the job at hand, then left the room.
“ The family’s coming round for dinner. There ain’t many of us left. Apart from the kids, of course. Michael’s making a stew of Jessie and yer arm. Us grownups will eat first, and then the kiddies get to feed afters.”
Tim didn’t speak, he was trapped in his own nightmare and trapped in his own body. He made funny little mewling noises, sounding very much like a run over cat dying in a ditch.
“Why can’t he move? ” Craig whispered, refusing to avert his gaze from the old man’s watery blue eyes, despite how much the cold gaze filled him with terror.
“He’ s been paralysed. When I was seeing to you and your girlfriend in the shed, Michael came to pick him up. He’s been waiting here on the table ever since, ain’t you Tim?”
Tim just groaned.
“What do you mean, paralysed ?”
“I mean his spinal column’s been severed in various places, you dumb shit, what the hell else do you think I mean?”
Craig’s head
“Tim,” Craig frantically hissed. “Wake up, for fuck’s sake.”
Tim groaned, and Craig breathed a sigh of relief.
He’s not dead. Yet. But he sure as shit ain’t moving either…
The dead weight of Jessie’s arms bore down on his chest and as much as he longed to shake them off, he didn’t dare.
“Craig,” Tim called out in a hoarse voice. “I can’t move man, I’m fucking paralysed. I can’t feel my legs, I can’t feel a fucking thing. Where’s Jessie? Have you seen Jessie?”
“Shit, man,” Craig replied, his heart breaking all over again.
Craig assessed him. There was nothing obviously wrong with him that he could see. Apart from his fucked feet, that is. He was missing the toes of his right foot and the side of his left foot was a pulpy mess. But surely that was no reason for paralysis? In that split second Craig was just grateful that he wasn’t able to turn his head and see his dismembered girlfriend draped over him in segments. The long wooden table on which Tim lay on long ways was the same as the tables in the pub, complete with long wooden benches running either side of it. It must have been over twelve foot and almost ran the length of the room. At either end of it were two, plain, wooden dining chairs.
The room itself was spartan and the window was boarded up.
On closer inspection Craig saw that Tim was lying on what looked like the biggest, fuck off wooden chopping board he had ever seen in his life.
Fuck man, that’s not good…
“ Craig. You didn’t answer me. Where’s Jessie?”
Craig was saved from answering by the arrival of Bish, accompanied by man mountain Michael. Without a word Michael scooped up a leg and an arm of Jessie’s and exited the dining room.
Three trips later and Jessie had been completely removed.
Next Michael unbuckled Craig and effortlessly threw him over his shoulder.
Craig screamed in agony, his stump bashing against the man’s chest.
Humiliation mixed with terror when he felt his jeans and underpants being tugged down his thighs. Cool air hit his bare rump and inside he curled up and died of shame.
He was dropped into a chair at the end of the table. He landed with a painful thump on his backside, knocking the blood curdling cry out of him with a hard whoosh.
“Get off me,” he sobbed, fresh pain so extreme coursing through him his entire body convulsed.
“Oh God man, I can’t feel a fucking thing,” Tim said, crying softly all the while.
Craig had no idea what to say to him. He was sick to his soul of this grotesque nightmare that there was no waking up from.
“What are you cunts doing?” he said.
All he could do was sit there sobbing, mentally and physically exhausted as Michael proceeded to tie him to the chair with a length of thick rope.
Bish sat down on the bench next to him and regarded him thoughtfully while Michael silently finished the job at hand, then left the room.
“ The family’s coming round for dinner. There ain’t many of us left. Apart from the kids, of course. Michael’s making a stew of Jessie and yer arm. Us grownups will eat first, and then the kiddies get to feed afters.”
Tim didn’t speak, he was trapped in his own nightmare and trapped in his own body. He made funny little mewling noises, sounding very much like a run over cat dying in a ditch.
“Why can’t he move? ” Craig whispered, refusing to avert his gaze from the old man’s watery blue eyes, despite how much the cold gaze filled him with terror.
“He’ s been paralysed. When I was seeing to you and your girlfriend in the shed, Michael came to pick him up. He’s been waiting here on the table ever since, ain’t you Tim?”
Tim just groaned.
“What do you mean, paralysed ?”
“I mean his spinal column’s been severed in various places, you dumb shit, what the hell else do you think I mean?”
Craig’s head
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