Part 12 (2/2)

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 s.h.i.+fted, coming across the concrete, tall and skinny, nervous and jumpy but getting nearer.

”It's me, G.o.d 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 G.o.d, 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 s.n.a.t.c.hed at the skinny hand.

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

They wobbled across the great s.p.a.ce 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.

Chapter 47.

”I've run a bath, I put some antiseptic stuff in it. I think you should go to the hospital though, you're bleeding and you look really bad.”

”No, no. I can't. I know they'll call the police and I can't have that. Just let me try and get clean. Can I go now and get in the bath.”

The room was small, dark and dingy, the pink wall tiles were rimmed with mould and the taps had long since lost their s.h.i.+ne but the water was hot and the radiator held a big pink towel warming ready for her. With gasps of pain Sylvie lowered herself into the warm tub. The water turned to pink as the blood washed into it, she felt a wave of nausea but turned her face away. She felt dirty as though her body was ingrained with filth and would never be clean again. She could feel the ghost of his hands, on her ankles, around her waist and the tops of her legs. The soreness in her v.a.g.i.n.a and all around the area from tears and bruising was beyond belief and though she had refused the hospital her body was telling her there was damage deep inside. She would have to trust in fate that it would heal and there wouldn't be permanent harm. Her arms and legs were scratched and reddened from the rough treatment and the bindings, her face was sore from the beatings and her heart was broken from it all.

There was a knock on the door, ”Are you okay, do you need anything.”

She couldn't let Lennie look at her, the darkness at the warehouse had hidden her shame and the blanket in the car had wrapped her round. As she looked now at her battered body she couldn't bear to let anyone see.

”I'm okay I think. Do you have any aspirin and any underwear, maybe a sanitary towel.”

”Yes, 'course, I've got a dressing gown for you and I've turned the electric blanket on. You need to get into bed. I put some soup on, it's only tinned but it'll make you feel better. Well, I think it might.”

The kindness reduced Sylvie to fresh tears and she let them flow, a salve to her soul as the water soothed and gentled her physical self...

Wrapped in a soft dressing gown and snuggled under the duvet she sipped at a mug of soup. Lennie had hardly spoken but held the bedding as Sylvie slipped underneath and then tucked a towel over the covers before handing her the soup. Now she came and gingerly perched on the edge of the bed.

”G.o.d, Sylvie what can I say. I am sorry, so very sorry. If I'd known what they would do, if I'd had any idea I wouldn't have brought you back here. I would never.”

”Did you know? all the time in the park and the cafe, did you know who I was and how they wanted me?”

”Yes, well some stuff, what they told me. They brought me there, pointed you out. They told me you'd nicked some gear from 'em. Sylvie, I know it's no excuse but I owe 'em. Big time, I owe 'em and they said if I brought you back here they'd let me off some of it. I thought if you'd nicked some stuff, well you'd be 'ard, able to look after yerself. Then when I got talking to ya and saw you weren't like that I was in too deep, I couldn't get out. They wuss watchin' us all the time and they followed us back and G.o.d, I didn't want to do it but I couldn't get out of it.”

She buried her head now in her hands and sobbed, ”I'm so, so sorry. I thought they'd just give you a bit of a beltin' and we've all 'ad them 'aven't we? I never thought they'd do this, all this.”

”I wish you hadn't done it, I'll always wish that, but I think I understand. I know what it can be like. I was with some people before and I've seen what happens. I don't blame you, really I don't but I don't know what to do next.”

She held out the folded note and watched in silence as Lennie read it and handed it back.

”Christ, they mean to kill him don't they?”

”I suppose they think he shot the other bloke. There's other stuff as well from before. He's been running from them for years and he was doing okay until he got mixed up with me. I don't know what to do now. I have to help him.

”How are you mixed up with them Lennie? Do you do drugs?”

”Me, no. Not any more, I did once but not now, I'm clean.”

”But you said you owe them.”

”Hmm, it was for Brian, my brother. He's dead now but before he died I got him some stuff and I didn't pay 'em and...”

”I'm sorry, about your brother.”

Lennie nodded, ”Yeah, well he couldn't 'elp 'imself. He tried a few times, to get clean, went on the Methadone programme, all sorts of stuff but no, he didn't make it in the end.”

The statement was bald, almost devoid of sentiment; this girl had been through much and survived, like Sylvie herself. A kindred spirit. As the thought began to take root it was followed by another and Sylvie felt the anger start to rise and with it a desire for vengeance.

For now though, the warmth, the relative safety and reaction to the trauma of the last hours overwhelmed her and she allowed herself to drift away. Lennie looked down at this poor creature, guilt and sadness swept her and then she felt the anger start to simmer.

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