The Grave (15 page)

The sobs subsided, the tears dried but she felt dead and
cold inside.  Tea and food had done little to lift her mood and even the sparky
company of this down to earth young woman made no real difference.

“That feel better?”

Lennie put down her cup and watched as Sylvie blew her nose
and tried to compose herself.  She attempted a smile which failed miserably and
gulped to head off a restart of the flood.

“I don’t know what the hell to do and that’s it.  I have
nowhere to go, not a bean, no clothes and...”  She shook her head, unable to
carry on.

“Tell you what, why don’t you come back to mine?  You can
get some zeds, have a shower if you like, whatever.  It’s not posh my place, a
bit grot really but you can come, if you like.”

Sylvie began to shake her head but stilled the response,
what choice did she really have.  Acknowledging she knew nothing about this
young woman she also had to recognise the kindness and generosity she had been
shown and the terrible cul de sac that had trapped her.  At least if she was
inside she would be less likely to come into contact with the police and an
hour to evaluate her situation could only be good.  She nodded.

“Thanks Lennie, it’d be great it really would.”

“Come on then, might as well get goin’”…

The flat was small, grubby and untidy.  There was one room. 
A bed was pushed into the corner under an old fashioned sash window which had
been dressed with flimsy pink curtains. The headboard was grey metal and pink
fairy lights had been twined between the bars.  The covers were thrown roughly across
the mattress and a battered teddy bear glowered on the pillows.  A chair and
coffee table took up much of the remaining floor space with a bean bag sagging
against the cream painted wall.  A plastic curtain partly covered a kitchen
alcove where a sink and cupboard unit stood in a dejected huddle with a small
fridge.  There was a door in the corner opposite the bed and Sylvie assumed
this lead to the bathroom.  It wasn’t a great space but it was warm, there were
posters on the walls and a small table pushed into the corner held a mirror and
a collection of bottles and tubes.  Plastic boxes were pushed under the bed but
there was no other storage space.

Lennie shrugged off her little jacket and hung it behind the
door.  An answering machine beeped urgently and she walked across to jab at the
button, the screen showed six messages waiting but she made no attempt to hear
them. 

“Make yourself at home.” 

Lennie indicated the chair with a sweep of her hand and then
turned away.  She straightened the kitchen curtain, pushed the bean bag further
into the corner with her foot and fiddled with a couple of the bottles on the
table.  She seemed twitchy and ill at ease, Sylvie felt a tension rising that
hadn’t been there before.  She had made a mistake, she shouldn’t have come.

“Look Lennie, I’m really grateful, I am, you’ve been
brilliant but I think I’d better go, see if I can get back to the hotel, maybe
I can get my stuff.” 

She knew it was a ridiculous thought, everything would surely
have been taken away but it seemed like a good reason to leave.

“I might be able to, you know, go to the bank, I have a bit
of money, if I tell them I lost my cards.”  She shrugged.

Lennie turned to look at her, a tear glinted in the corner
of her eyes, her face was drawn and sad.

“I’m sorry Sylvie, honestly I had no choice about this.  I
don’t wish you any harm but I didn’t have any choice.”

As her face creased in puzzlement alarm wormed its way into Sylvie’s
gut.  What was this?

A sharp slam and the sound of feet on the bare wood of the
staircase notched up her sense of alarm.  The door flung back and two men in
dark jackets and jeans filled the space. They strode into the room ignoring
Lennie who had backed against the wall, her hand pressed to her mouth, tears
now dripping across her cheeks.  She shook her head as her eyes sought out
Sylvie sending a wordless message of despair and shame across the meagre space.

Sylvie had backed as far as she could into the corner, fear
sparked on her nerve endings, panic took her breath away.  Her legs were tight
against the frame of the bed.  She bent her knees and shuffled backwards without
looking onto the bundled covers.  The two figures crossed the room before she
had the chance to do more than simply drag herself as far into the corner as
she could.  There was no escape. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

Lennie was sobbing now, crouched in the corner her skinny
knees drawn up in front of her chest.  As the two intruders grabbed Sylvie and
lifted her bodily, squirming and wailing, Lennie buried her head behind her
arms and sniffled quietly to herself.

“Piss off, let me go.  Christ let me go.  What are you doing? 
Who the hell are you?  Help me, Lennie, help me.”

There was no help.  With a rough hand pressed across her face
to quieten her and lifted from her feet Sylvie was hustled down the narrow
staircase.  Once outside they threw her across the back seat of the black four
wheel drive which had been parked on the yellow lines outside the building.

“Shut up bitch, shut up or I’ll shut you up.  Stay down,
keep quiet.”

The door slammed.   No way was she keeping quiet, Sylvie
scrambled to kneel on the seat and hammered on the tinted glass of the windows.

“Help me, help me someone.  For God’s sake help me.  Lennie,
Lennie. Shit, somebody help me.” 

She didn’t see the blow coming, she felt the jolt as her
head was jerked violently to the side, she felt her lip split and the spurt of
blood and then there was nothing.  Darkness wrapped her around and she slid to
the floor of the big car her arms and legs a tangle in the confined space.  The
man who had hit her threw a tartan blanket on top of the bundled body, slammed
the door and climbed in beside his mate who was already indicating and drawing
away to join the stream of traffic.

Waves of nausea marked her return to consciousness; Sylvie
rolled instinctively to her side as her mouth filled with saliva.  A spew of
vomit splashed onto the grey concrete floor.  Her stomach heaved again.  Slime
covered the side of her face and slipped under her hand as she tried to push
away, the stink of it was sour and vile in her nostrils.  Her eyes streamed
with reaction, to the pain, the vomiting and the terrible nameless fear.  She
groaned.

“Shut up.”

She was cold, shivering convulsively, her head pounded and
her throat felt raw.  She lay back wanting the darkness to carry her away
again, this was too much now. It was time for it to be over, she was desperate
to make it end.

A push against her side moved her; she tried to roll away
from the jabbing foot.

“Get out of your muck bitch.  Come on you’ve had long enough
feeling sorry for yourself, shift.”

When she opened her eyes this time the walls held still. 
She moved her head, peering into the gloom.  This was a big space, it wasn’t
possible to see the edges of the room.  The roof was high above, steel girders
and dim grey windows. 

Now, better able to take stock it was clear the pain was
mostly in her head and neck.  The rest of her body seemed relatively unhurt
though her feet were numb and cold.  She shuffled and squirmed, dragging
herself into a sitting position.  Her knees were bent and by holding onto them
with her hands clasped she was fairly steady.  A rope around her ankles was
threaded through a ring let into the concrete floor.  She could feel him near,
the man who had spoken, but couldn’t see him.  As she tried to turn rough hands
grabbed the sides of her head. 

“Enough, keep still now.  Keep very still, face forwards. 
Do as I tell you, don’t you dare turn round.” 

Sylvie gulped, tears flowed, yet more tears. She sniffed and
mopped her face with the sleeve of the nasty grey top.  Despair overwhelmed
her, she had no idea where she was, who she was with or what they wanted from
her. 

Lennie, why
?  The memory of those haunted, guilty
eyes came to her.  Sylvie knew only too well how life would push and pummel
until you did unspeakable acts.  She tried to push these thought away, there
was no space in her mind now for anger all that mattered was survival, possibly,
or at least for this to finish quickly. Now her mind filled with only the wish
that the end would be swift because surely this could only go one way.  She
prepared to die.

He was very close now; she felt him, a presence, his breath
on her neck and the heat from his body a spectre against her skin.  She was
plunged back into darkness, a physical darkness this time.  She couldn’t
breathe, her nose was blocked and her mouth, there was roughness against her
face, she couldn’t tell whether her eyes were open or closed.  A sack or a
cloth, something was over her head and his hands were at her neck, a noose
tightening, tightening.  Another scream rose in her throat but horror stole it,
rendering her dumb. He would strangle her now, or hang her.  She squirmed
against his grip, flailing blindly in the dark till her hands were snatched
back and sharp pain in her wrists told her they were tied.  Now there was
movement around her ankles, clawing fingers, pulling and scratching.  The ropes
were loosed.  She kicked uselessly against the weight of him leaning on her
legs.

His hand groped and fumbled around her waist.  His nails
rasped on the delicate skin as he tore away the cheap trousers.  She heard him
laugh as the paper pants were ripped away.

“Nice, classy.”

“No, no, please don’t, please don’t.”

Her pleas rippled in the silence, as the knowledge of what
was happening crawled into her brain.

He struck her then, through the sacking.  Her face hit the
concrete with a dull smack.  More hands now, other hands, gripping her legs
pulling them, stretching them apart.  Still she screamed, and she fought. 

“Hold her Si, keep her still.”

“Don’t please.  No.”

Now there was no way to fight, there was nothing but to try
and bear it, the pain and the fear and the horror as he grabbed at the tops of
her legs, thrust his fingers roughly into her body. Then as her insides blazed
with agony she felt him pushing inside her, thrusting, tearing and destroying… 

It was over, she felt him stiffen and moments later he rolled
away with a grunt.  She was numbed, appalled, disgusted and swept with misery. 

“Hold her, grab her legs. Shift over Mo, my turn. ”

Her struggles now were feeble, what was there left to fight
for? she simply lay on the cold floor as tears trickled across her face and she
lost herself in the world of pain.  Now the other man took his turn, he wanted
fight, something to fulfil his need to overwhelm her.  He slapped at her face,
dragging the sack upward till it covered only her eyes, he grabbed at her
cheeks and twisted and pinched at the tender flesh. 

“Slut, whore, you don’t even fight.”

He thrust himself inside her harder and harder “You like
this bitch, like it do ya.  Shall I give you something more to like.” 

His great hand closed round her throat, she choked and
gagged, bucking and squirming as her lungs cried out for oxygen.  Surely he was
killing her now.  Silently she prayed, please, please let me die, make it
stop.  Still he pounded into her body, her back rasped and scraped on the concrete,
her head was bursting, and now she could take no more.  It was unendurable and
her brain shut down taking her out, back to the dark.

The nightmare wouldn’t go away, Sylvie tried to escape the
pain and fear but it held her fast.  Her arms and legs refused to react, she
was shivering uncontrollably, her teeth hammered in her mouth and damp clothes
clung to her shaking body. 

Inside she was raw, red heat assaulted her belly, she felt
fluid between her legs and whenever she moved a gush of warmth told her all was
not well.   

Thunder pounded in her head and her face felt puffy and
unreal.  She kept her eyes closed, once she forced the lids open it would be
time to acknowledge the reality of her situation. 

Eventually and inevitably it was time to take stock.   The
seat was hard and her hands were fixed behind it.  Her shoulders had gone past
pain to numbness, her ankles were tied.  There was something locking her lips
together and the chattering of her teeth cut and rubbed at the inside of her mouth. 
The agony in the base of her stomach was the worst thing and was without doubt
the site of most damage.  She hoped it was huge and soon it would take her
away, she wanted to die now, this was dark and dreadful, too terrible to be
borne.

Life wouldn’t leave her, her body forced her to endure and
so through the pain and fear and despair she climbed back to consciousness.  It
was full dark now, she heard no-one near though her ears stretched in the
silence seeking the sound of breathing, the scrape of shoes on concrete or the
mutter of voices.

She heard moaning, a quiet pitiful sound and it was only
when she realised it came from her own throat that it ceased.

The knowledge that she was truly alone came to her slowly
through the veil of helplessness.  She shuffled on the hard chair, her hands
were tied but not tightly, with small movement she felt the binds begin to
ease.  She pulled and tensed and wriggled and in the midst of a dreadful pain
was able to free her arms and pull them forward.  She sat cradling her abdomen
and sobbing into the darkness.  In the end she had to acknowledge she lived and
living required her to act and so bending forward, grunting with the agony, she
was able to untie her ankles and then to rip the tape from her face.  Her eyes
found the paper, left in front of the chair.  Once she was free she reached and
lifted the note.  ‘
Take your stinking body back to your boyfriend.  Tell him
that we are watching, we are always watching and we are coming.  He is ours. 
He is a dead man walking’

The venom behind the words drew little reaction, her body
was ruined, her soul was scorched, mere ink on paper moved her not at all.  She
folded the white sheet over and over in her bloodied hands and then tucked it
into the end of her sleeve. 

Her legs and lower body were bare and covered in blood and
bruises.  She whimpered whenever she moved but knew she must.  The pants were
ripped beyond all redemption, the grey top fell short of the top of her thighs
covering most of her stomach but not much of her bottom.  She was alone, she
had no clothes, she was hurt, so very hurt and had no idea where she was.  A
tiny gasp escaped her mouth “Samuel”.  He couldn’t help her, she didn’t even
know if he was still alive and the mere sound of his name drew hot tears from
her sore eyes.  She had returned to the chair and now rocking back and forth gave
herself up to the grief.  Why not cry, surely she had earned the right to cry
and never stop. 

“Sylvie, Sylvie.  Is it you?  Don’t be scared, it’s me, it’s
Lennie.”

The silhouette moved and shifted, coming across the
concrete, tall and skinny,  nervous and jumpy but getting nearer.

“It’s me, God Sylvie, are you alright?”

“No.”

The single word was faint and pathetic. 

“I’m here to help you, they called me.  They said you were
waiting, told me I should come and get you. Are you hurt?”

“Yes, yes I’m hurt.”

Now Lennie had moved close enough to see for herself the
damage to the other girl.  Her eyes flooded with tears of shock and pity.

“Oh God, Sylvie. I’m so sorry.  Christ what did they do?”

She knelt now before the chair and wrapped her arms around
the small, shuddering figure. 

“Ssshh. Shhh.” 

She shrugged off her jacket and wrapped it around Sylvie’s
shoulders. 

“Wait, wait.  I’ve got a blanket in the car.  I’ll get it.”

Sylvie reached out and snatched at the skinny hand.

“No, don’t leave me.  Take me with you, take me.  Help me to
stand.”

They wobbled across the great space towards the sliding
warehouse door and then with Sylvie on the verge of collapse Lennie pushed her
into the back of a battered and rusted old car.  She tucked a soft blanket
around her, tears dripping onto the colourful pile, crooning on and on as
Sylvie laid back and gave herself up again to the bog of darkness.