As a quietly weeping Henry began to cut away the tape at my wrists, Coyle got to play once more. He ripped the tape from Finn’s mouth and squared up to his defenceless opponent. He postured and swaggered like a martial arts expert before kicking Finn square in the chest so that the chair toppled backwards. Once he was on the floor, Coyle began punching and kicking him with an unfettered pleasure that bordered on orgasmic.
As Henry gathered me in his arms and carried me from the kitchen, my pethedine-dulled brain realised Finn had not cried out once.
When Coyle had finally exhausted himself, he simply walked out of the kitchen with a slurred, ‘I need a fuckin’ drink ,’ and left me crumpled on the floor, still tied to the chair. It was a sign of his incompetence that I was still conscious: at that moment I’d have relished a few minutes’ respite, or even better, permanent brain damage. As I lay there, I urged myself to hurt more so that I could block out the sound of Lilith’s scream as Coyle had broken her.
With the one eye that would still open, I could see Henry’s collection of hand-made Japanese kitchen knives on their magnetic strip next to the stove and I cursed Coyle for not releasing me before he left. I reckoned I had just enough energy remaining to draw one of them down my wrists.
‘Finn?’ The glow of a lamp cast a circle on the floor by the doorway and I recognised Doctor Parnell’s reedy voice. It sounded even more insubstantial than usual; I supposed this scenario was a pretty high price to pay for a few dodgy prescriptions and a couple of bottles of ‘lost’ valium. ‘Lady Albermarle asked that I check you over.’ She began to cut away the duct tape with a pair of surgical scissors and as my hands and feet were released from the chair frame I realised that I wasn’t in a condition to stand unaided, never mind cross the kitchen to grab a knife. With the doctor’s assistance I was just about able to sit upright with my back resting against a cupboard door.
‘This must be hurting you.’ She dabbed cotton wool soaked in antiseptic over the swollen skin around my eye. ‘Lady Albermarle insisted that I shouldn’t give you any pain relief. I’m sorry.’
‘How is she?’ I finally managed to ask.
Parnell looked away, pretending to retrieve something from her bag. ‘I’m not really meant to mention her.’
‘And you’re not really meant to keep Lady Albermarle’s pet whore supplied with a truckload of dodgy temazepam, but I can’t recall that stopping you.’
She winced. ‘She’s not too bad; both fingers have clean breaks. She’s a little groggy from the bump on the head and the pethedine, but that’s probably not a bad thing all things considered, is it?’
‘No, all things considered,’ I concurred. ‘What I meant... Where Coyle...’ I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
The assault wasn’t as serious as it looked. Just some superficial tearing, caused by a fingernail -’
‘
Just?
’ I tensed and the already terrified doctor flinched away from me as I swung a hand out to send the contents of her bag scattering over the kitchen floor.
‘That’s not what I meant,’ she began as she scooped up plastic bottles from the tiles. ‘I just mean, it could have been so much worse if we hadn’t arrived...’
‘Fuck you.’ I managed to kick the chair in at her. It missed, but the harsh clatter was satisfying against the silence.
Henry picked up the chair and set it by the wall. ‘That’s enough, Finn lad,’ he soothed. The cowardly little shit had decided to stay out of my sight until now. ‘Ingrid, perhaps you might want to wait outside?’
As the doctor gratefully collected her bag and scuttled from the room, I pulled myself upright and leaned against the sink for support. ‘Henry, you fucking
bastard
. What did
Blaine
offer you, huh? Staff discount?’
Henry’s eyes were already full of tears. ‘I have never thought of you like that.’
‘Yeah, I bet you haven’t.’
‘She had Mother on the phone, Finn. She was telling me about the nice young man who was there to take her out for the day, for pity’s sake! He could have killed her there and then!’
‘I wish he had, you pathetic little shit. I wish he’d strangled the senile old hag as she stood there and fucked her still-warm, pissing corpse whilst you were still on the line.’
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘Oh yes I do.’ I took a breath that felt like I was inhaling fire. ‘You could have held out. You could have played stupid and denied it all, left
Blaine
to ring around and maybe, just maybe, think that it was some fucking huge coincidence that Lilith was in
London
that night. I know you can’t get away with shit like that forever, but for fuck’s sake we could have got Lilith off the island, instead of letting Coyle...’
‘Please don’t say it,’ Henry pleaded.
Talking hurt far more than I’d expected, but I was hitting my stride now. ‘You know what I think happened, Henry old chap? I reckon she saw you shitting yourself the second she got back to the island and read the whole fucking story on your face before you even had to open your mouth.’
‘I thought I could do it, truly I did. You and Lilith have this ability to keep your heads under the most appalling pressure and I hoped some of that courage had rubbed off on me, but Blaine took one look at me and I swear she just knew.’
‘So you told her everything.’
‘No, not everything.
Blaine
doesn’t know where Jake is. He’s safe...’
‘But you told her what Lilith had done. Let her take all that.
Christ!
’ I had to stop
speaking to cough, and my broken
rib made my chest feel like it had been wired to a car battery. I clung on to the edge of the sink and spat red foam onto the white enamel.
‘Please try to calm down,’ Henry begged, and placed a hand on my shoulders. ‘This is part of my punishment, you know that, don’t you? You and Lilith mean the world to me – that’s why she ordered me to stay and watch. Knew that seeing the pair of you hurt would be more than I could stand.’
‘What, more than being mauled by Coyle O’Halloran, or gettin’ hoofed around the kitchen, or havin’ a couple of fingers snapped for a laugh? More than that, Henry? That what you’re tryin’ to tell me, little man?’
‘No!’ Henry wiped his eyes. ‘Oh Finn, look at what they did to you – I’m so, so sorry...’ He pulled out a handkerchief and went to clean my face of blood-stained drool. It was too much.
I grabbed his wrist before he managed to touch me. ‘What’s this, Henry? Fuckin’ foreplay, huh? This your big chance to make a move? Tell you what, you just wait a few days ‘til Coyle’s had his chance to play with me, because I tell you now, I won’t be in a state to run anywhere. You can do what the hell you like to me, then. But for now, you lay a finger on me and I promise you I’ll do my best to break your treacherous fuckin’ neck.’
Henry let his hand drop, defeated. ‘I tried to warn you,’ he whispered. ‘All those weeks ago. Told you not to get involved...’
It wasn’t the most graceful punch I’d ever thrown, but it still broke Henry’s nose. I simply let the momentum carry us both to the floor, where I reckoned I might get to throttle the man before I passed out, especially as Henry didn’t seem particularly keen to fight back. He was just beginning to make some fairly interesting choking noises when Coyle returned from his pick-me-up and kicked me off Henry, managing to break the second rib of the morning.
‘Jesus, you don’t learn too quick, do you , faggot?’ He hauled me into a headlock to allow Henry to crawl away. ‘Come on, time to go and see your new cage.’
*****
Coyle’s buddies had prepared my room whilst he was dealing with me. My life’s possessions now consisted of the pyjama pants I was wearing, an ancient sweatshirt, a stripped mattress and a thin duvet. Worst of all, no oil lamp. The few things I had foolishly thought of as mine – just books for the most part, and my precious sketch of Bran – were nowhere to be seen. Fuelling a bonfire somewhere, no doubt.
‘You
stupid
little shit.’ He threw me to the back wall. ‘Jesus, if you thought you had a crap life before this, you’re going to love your world from now on.’ He crouched at my side. ‘Right, time for the ground-rules. One,’ he began to count off on his fingers, ‘and this’ll come as no surprise, no more swanning around like lord of the fucking manor; you’re either in here or you’re working. Two – you have
any
ideas about meeting up with our resident artist and I’ll hurt her in whichever way I fancy, and three, I’m in charge of that nasty little habit of yours. You get two visits a day, and I watch you swallow so you can’t stockpile and do anything stupid. If you’re a good boy I might up your dose, but if you kick off, you know I can give you just enough to keep you screaming on the edge of a rattle for days. Are we clear, you shit-stabbin’ piece of filth?’
‘Perfectly.’ My mouth now felt as though it had been stoved in with a housebrick.
‘Good dog.’ Coyle got to his feet and placed the tip of his boot on my latest broken rib and nudged his foot forwards. I cried out despite myself. ‘Oh, and talkin’ of useless mongrels, there’ll be one less in about, ooh, ten minutes’ time. A bit of target practice, if you get my drift?’ He mimed raising a shotgun and firing at me.
I got his drift. Bran was already as good as dead, and I’d killed her.
‘See you in a few hours for your next fix, faggot,’ Coyle called as he slammed the door. ‘As long as I don’t forget, that is.’
*****
I heard the muffled report of a shotgun being fired at close range. A terminal, numbing emptiness filled me as I lay down on the mattress, shut my eyes against the approaching darkness, and began to go quietly mad.
The first morning after the conflagration was the worst. Sleep hadn’t stopped the hurt: the night was filled with pethedine dreams of Coyle’s hard, jabbing fingers deep inside me, and the sound of my fingers snapping and Coyle’s boot slamming into Finn. I awoke shaking with fear and pain, and knew what I had to do if I had any intention of surviving. Every muscle screamed as I swung my legs over the side of my bed.
I tentatively placed my unbroken hand between my legs and checked my fingers. The bleeding had stopped and I clung on to this small act of healing as I dragged my trainers from under my bed using my clenched toes.
It was six thirty in the morning and I was still breathing. I was going for my run.
*****
‘Run’ was a misnomer. A meagre three circuits of the island took me the best part of an hour, but in that time I learned two important things: I was considered sufficiently tamed to be left alone, and I was still capable of putting one foot in front of the other so I could do the only thing in the world that might stop me going crazy with longing for Finn. No matter how difficult I found it, I knew the only way of keeping him safe for now was for
Blaine
to think I had learned my lesson.
A soft drizzle cloaked the rocks as I began my final lap. I pushed damp hair from my eyes and touched the stitches in my head; a row of tiny thorns. I cursed Coyle and walked on into the grey dawn.
I knew it was Coyle long before he appeared. Even if I hadn’t recognised the sound his customary heavy-footed swagger made on the bare stone, I could have guessed purely on the basis that he was the only soul I’d seen since the beginning of my confinement.
I wasn’t sure how long it had been; with no clock to keep measure of the time, and enough temazepam in my system to dull my vision to a monochrome blur, it could have been seven days or seventy. Long enough for my fear of the darkness to develop into a constant, low-level howl, and long enough for the noise of Coyle’s footfall have me slavering like a Pavlovian dog in anticipation of my next fix – that much I knew, at least.
Now the meagre light from the lamp-lit corridor hurt my eyes as Coyle kicked the door open and strutted in. He held a basin of water, and had a ragged towel, a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt that looked vaguely familiar draped over his left arm.
‘Stand up, fag.’ He was bored, drunk and belligerent. Always a winning combination. He clumsily set the bowl down so that water and suds slopped over the sides, then threw the clothes at me. ‘Get yourself washed, then get those on. You’re back working tonight – couple of fellas come all the way from the U S of A lookin’ for some hot twink action, you lucky, lucky bastard. Can’t have you stinking like the shit you are now, can we?’
I didn’t move. Initially it was simply because I couldn’t find the energy, but there was also something satisfying about Coyle’s irritation at my disobedience.
‘What the fuck you waiting for? Christmas?’
I decided to stay put.
‘You think ‘cos I’m not allowed to mark you, I can’t hurt you?’ Coyle submerged the towel in the water. ‘Because I’m telling you now, that’s a bloody stupid mistake to make.’ He brought the towel out and wrung it out tightly, sending fat drops of water splattering across the stone flags. ‘Now, get the fuck up.’
I watched him with detached curiosity, wondering when the talking was going to stop.