The Evil And The Pure by Darren Dash

interest in a second trip – just the people it attracted.
    “Again?” Kevin groaned. “We were there at the weekend. How about Hyde Park? Nice evening, fresh grass, open air…”
    “Maybe,” Tulip said, and by her sullen tone he knew she had her heart set on the Eye, which meant they’d be going. Kevin couldn’t bear to disappoint his sweet little sister.
    They agreed on a fish and ch ips supper. Kevin would collect the food on his way back from work. Then the Eye.
    “Got to go now,” he said, wishing he could stay.
    “Already?” Tulip checked her watch and pouted.
    “The afternoon will pass quickly,” Kevin laughed. “You have your shows on the telly. And…” He cleared his throat.
    Tulip sighed. “Do I have to?” she muttered.
    “Of course not,” he said quickly. “You know I’d never force you. But you’ll get the shakes if you don’t. You know what you’re like. If you leave it until later, the night will be spoilt and you won’t be able to come out.”
    “Go on then,” Tulip sniffed. “Fetch it for me.”
    “I’m not your slave,” Kevin protested.
    “Of course you are,” she giggled and they smiled at one another.
    “Come inside,” Kevin said. “I don’t want anyone to see.”
    “Nobody’s watching.”
    “Still. It will be safer inside.”
    Tulip rolled her eyes but rose and followed him through to the bedroom. She sat on the bed while Kevin retrieved the box from a cubbyhole at the back of the wardrobe, dully watching him as he removed the tin foil, the lighter, the heroin. His hands were much steadier than hers. She sometimes chased the dragon all by herself, but Kevin prepared her fixes more often than not.
    Kevin carefully melted down the powder, then beckoned Tulip forward. She picked up the foil tube, shuddered as she thought about what she was doing, then leant forward and inhaled. She despised the drug and would have refused if she could. But its lure was powerful. She had smoked often (at Kevin’s sly bidding) and become addicted. She’d suffer withdrawal pangs if she went without. Besides, it helped numb her to what she had done with Kevin and their clients, what she would no doubt be asked to do soon again.
    Kevin left her in front of the TV, only vaguely focused. He kissed her goodbye and h urried back to work, feeling the cold, dark station walls close around him, cutting him off from the world and his sister, hating the place more than ever, surviving by imagining it was three years from now, the apartment sold, working in a rural rail station or embarked on an exciting new career, living in the countryside with Tulip, a cottage of their own, no one to interfere, alone except for when they entertained a few wealthy, understanding guests, Tulip having come to accept, enjoy and depend upon the appointments as much as he had. Bliss.
     
    Busy all afternoon. A couple of customers picked arguments with him. One had lost her purse and wanted her money refunded – seventy-four pounds, eighty-six pence exactly – while the other was an American in his sixties, moaning about the train schedules. Kevin could deal with most complaints himself, but these two kept yapping, wearing him down until he had to call his superior. Dan Bowen hated facing the public even more than Kevin, and always took it personally when one of his staff called him to the front lines — he thought they were doing it to spite him. Kevin knew Dan would spend the rest of the week thinking up ways to pay Kevin back. Once, after a similar incident, Dan had sent him down five nights in a row to clean the platforms. The fact that he’d have to sit and take Dan’s shit depressed him even more. He shouldn’t have to scrape to his boss’ petulant whims, but Dan’s father was a major player in the union and his brother was highly placed too, so there was no recourse there.
    Eventually the day ended and Kevin was free. Before clocking off, he tracked down Dan and apologised — probably wouldn’t do any