Disenchanted (7 page)

"That's weird." I
glanced out the window.

They were coming back.

Swearing, I ran downstairs. I
darted through a door off the kitchen and closed it as they entered the cabin.
I tiptoed down wooden steps into the dark cellar, my footsteps ringing like
ghostly screams. A spade caked with fresh mud leaned against the wall below a
line of shackles on hooks. Only one hook was unused. I turned a corner and
stopped dead. Lining the walls were cages.

No, not cages.

Prison cells.

Gentle weeping echoed in the
gloom. I edged forwards, my heart hammering. Cold sweat embraced me. My mouth
felt like a Muppet had died in there. The cages reeked of stale sweat, urine
and despair. If evil had a perfume range, this would be its signature scent.
Meagre light from a lantern allowed the shadows to play their twisted games. A
crimson trail bled from one of the cells. The cells either side were empty. I
crept along the narrow passage, peering into every cell.

Empty.

Empty.

Empty.

Empty.

Empty.

Occupied.

The teenager was curled up in the
corner, grime staining her face apart from tracks her tears made. Chains
clanked as she moved. She wore a schoolgirl outfit that would definitely not be
accepted in normal schools. I had the same one.

"What are you doing
here?" I whispered.

"I was meeting my boyfriend
in the woods. I saw this couple then something hit the back of my head and I
woke up here." She self-consciously tried covering her bra, which peeked
out the unbuttoned shirt. "They make me wear this. She wears one too, when
they take me upstairs. He forces me to," she choked on her tears, "do
stuff...with her."

I was never wearing mine again.
"Is she his prisoner too?"

She shook her head. "The
schoolgirl thing was her idea. She loves it more than he does. She won't let
him...play with me." I swore. "There was another girl. I haven't seen
her for a few days. I heard her screaming. She never came back."

The door opened.

"Oh god! He's coming!"

I frantically looked for
somewhere to hide.

"Don't leave me!"

"
Ssh
!
I'm not leaving."

I spied a gap in the corner
beside a cell, dropped to my knees and wriggled backwards into it. I held my
breath. Footsteps reverberated through the cellar. The man stopped before the
girl's cell.

"Please!" She sobbed.
"I want to go home."

"Sweet Baby Bear." He
crouched and stroked her hair. "Mama Bear says it's time for school.
Today's lesson is dance."

"No, please!"

"You don't want to anger
Papa Bear do you?" She shook her head, tears tumbling down her face. I
felt sick. I wanted to save her but he'd be on me before I'd dragged my arse
out of the hole. I told myself this would be her last time but I hated myself.
Now I understood Jazz's guilt. He dried her tears. "The camera doesn't
like to see tears. The camera likes to see you enjoying yourself."

Shit
. I hoped he meant a video camera. If it was a hidden one, they
might already know I was here. This was one time I didn't want to be on film.

"No!"

He dragged her out, her sniffles
fading. I crawled out of the hole and freed my phone. No service. I headed for
the stairs. They'd be occupied for a while. My foot hit the step. I stopped. I
couldn't leave her. I'm no angel, but if that was me, I'd want someone to save
me. I crept to the kitchen. Downstairs was silent. I crossed to the knife rack
and stole the biggest knife and a skewer. I checked my phone. Service. I rang
Jazz. He blabbered about encrypting his footage and sending it to the cops so
they'd think the Judge killed himself and the prostitute could go free.

"Jazz, they've got a girl in
a prison cell. They're keeping her as a sex slave...they're upstairs with her
now...I don't care what they do to me, I'm not leaving her. She's only a kid.
Get the police here now."

I crept back to the cellar. For
once in my life, I was going to do something good.

***

The house was silent. The girl
had cried herself to sleep in the dirt. I crawled out of the hole, rammed the
skewer into the lock and jiggled it until the door popped open. She woke up.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting you out."

"They'll kill you!"

"I can look after
myself." I used the skewer to pick her chains' locks. She rubbed her
wrists. I removed my jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She zipped it up,
shivering. I took her hand and led her to the stairs. My senses screamed for
light, for noise, anything except this never ending soundless darkness. I
opened the cellar door. The kitchen was empty.

I hurried into the living room
then out into the hall. I fumbled with the locks on the front door.

"What have we here?"
The man came down the stairs.

I got the front door open and
pushed the girl out. He grabbed me.

"Run!"

"I can't leave you. You
saved me."

"Just go! My boyfriend will
be here soon."

She ran. I drove the knife back
into the man's hip, hitting bone. He swore. I twisted and stabbed at him again
but I didn't have the right angle to drive the knife in deep. He punched me in
the face and flung me down on the stairs, shouting up to his girlfriend. I kicked
him in the knee as he grabbed me.

"Be a good girl and Papa
Bear will reward you," he whispered, dragging me up.

I
kneed
him hard in the balls. "Sorry Papa Bear but this Goldilocks is a very
bad
girl."

I drove the knife into his
stomach as he doubled over. He screamed in pain as his girlfriend thundered
down the stairs. She wrenched my hair back, screeching at me. I turned and bit
her hard on the wrist whilst pulling the knife free. I sliced her arm. She let
go, cradling it and reached for me again. I ducked, grabbed her and threw her
into the wall. She smacked her face and stumbled backwards. He collapsed,
bleeding heavily. Jazz wrestled the door open, knife raised.

"
Georgie
!
Run!"

The man grabbed my ankle. Jazz
stamped on his wrist then plunged his knife into his heart.

The girlfriend whimpered as she
dropped to her knees beside her boyfriend, blocking the door.

"You killed him!"

"He's not dead yet," I
retorted. "It'll take him a few minutes to bleed out."

"You bitch!"

She screamed and lunged for me. I
rammed the knife into her stomach and twisted it before yanking it out. She
dropped on top of her boyfriend, twitching and gasping as they died together.

"They're like Romeo and
Juliet," I said. "An obsessive love that results in the deaths of
everyone around them."

Jazz stared at the bodies.
"Hardly a
fairytale
ending."

I smiled. "
Fairytales
are twisted."

Master of Puppets

The blood red rose struck the
coffin. Rain drummed on it, as though feeble knocking echoed from inside. I
hoped he was still alive, listening to the dull thuds of the earth hitting the
lid as he desperately scratched the polished wood, realising the Reaper had
come for him and would make him suffer every second of his terrifying death.

I hoped he died screaming.

I couldn't stand to be around the
mourners, watching them cry for a man they never really knew. At least, they
cried for the side of him
they
knew.
That side was just a glossy political poster advertising something that didn't
exist.

I joined my brothers by the
hearse. Rob was twenty five and our father's favourite. He was the handsome
rugby player. The sun didn't just shine out his arse, but out of every orifice,
like a halo trapped in a cheese grater. It wasn't
his
fault he couldn't stay faithful when so many girls threw
themselves at him. It wasn't
his
fault he'd get drunk every Saturday night and end up in A and E or the cells -
he trained hard, he deserved some fun. It wasn't
his
fault he constantly borrowed money off our father and never
paid it back – celebrities had a lifestyle to maintain.

That's why our father left him
the house.

Pierre was twenty three and
ridiculously intelligent. He had three degrees, all in stuff that fried my
brain. It didn't matter he was a prick. Our father said intelligent people
often had social problems and I didn't know what a burden it was being that
brilliant. It didn't matter he never visited or phoned after he'd left. He had
an important job, he couldn't help being too busy to care about the ones he
left behind.

He got the sports car.

At nineteen, I was the youngest.
The disappointment. Our father said there was absolutely no excuse for my
faults. I got nothing. Except broken bones and mental scars to remember him by.
And the metal plate in my head that made airport trips embarrassing.

"I'm selling the
house," Rob told me. "I don't need it. Can you move out in the next
few weeks?"

"And go where? They don't
sell flats in
Lidl's
."

"I'll sell it quicker if
it's empty. Go stay with a friend."

"I don't
have
friends."

"Dad was right. You
are
a loser."

I kicked him in the shin and
returned to the grave. I put my MP3 Player earphones in and blasted Green Day's
'Ha
Ha
You're Dead'. I dangled one earphone into
Dad's grave. It was a fitting tribute.

"
Psst
!"

I looked around. Forsaken graves
stared back. Wilting or dead flowers lay scattered over the sunken grass, some
still in their supermarket shrouds.

"
Psst
!
Aidan!"

I rose and peered around a
headstone. A tortoiseshell cat glared at me.

"Hey Puss." I tickled
his head.

"Don't be so condescending."
He slapped my hand away.

"I think I drank too much at
the wake." I examined the claw holes on my hand.

"The wake comes
after
the funeral, dumbass. Frankly it's
the only reason people bother showing up to these things. They're so
depressing
."

"Wonderful. Nineteen years
of living with an abusive narcissist and when he's finally rotting in the
ground,
now
I get to escape into a
fantasy world? Maybe my metal plate has caused a malfunction."

"Dude, I'm a cat. They don't
let cats take psychology degrees, so don't start telling me your life's
problems. I'm not running a suicide helpline. Wait, I'm getting
something." He waved one paw, like he was batting moths. "My superior
senses tell me...you're a jerk." He poked his tongue out.

"I'm finally rid of that
child beating monster, my brother's just screwed me over and now a cat's
talking to me."

"I'd say this is the best
thing that's ever happened to you, given those examples." I looked at him.
He stared straight back, looking bored. "I can make you rich."

"
Cats
are running pyramid schemes now? Why am I not surprised? You
are
the psychopaths of the animal
kingdom."

"If cats are psychopaths,
dogs are sociopaths. You humans really think they like you with their tail
wagging and smiles? They think you're idiots. Now. How about letting me help
you?"

"Fine, come with me. But I'm
giving you a name. How 'bout Patches?"

He glared. "How about I call
you
Fat Arse?"

"What the fuck?"

"Oh I'm sorry, I assumed
because you named
me
by my most
obvious feature, I would be allowed to return the compliment."

I rubbed my forehead. I was
definitely losing it. "I don't have a fat arse."

"Dude, you're so skinny, if
you walked across a cattle grid, you'd fall down it. Your arse is the only
thing that stops you looking like a pencil."

"Choose your own damn name
then."

"Mephistopheles."

I walked on. "C'mon on
Meph
." I whistled.

"Don't call me that, it
makes me sound like a programme for
smackheads
."

He trotted ahead of me, his tail
waving like a flag of victory. The rain made the graveyard bleak and
depressing. Raindrops splashed the headstones like a million tears from
sky-bound spirits.

"Aidan! You coming?"
Rob gestured to the funeral limo.

I flipped him off. "There's
your RSVP."

Mephistopheles turned around
impatiently.

I followed him out of the
cemetery and along the pavement. If I caught up, he'd walk away, pretending he
wasn't with me. Rain snaked down my back. I shivered and hitched my jeans up.
The cuffs were wet.

"I'm going to teach you how
to survive on the streets," Mephistopheles said.

"I have a home."

"Not for much longer. See
that businessman?" He tilted his head in a portly man's direction. He was
sitting outside a café. "Take his wallet."

"No!"

"Dude, you can't
afford
morals. Hell you can't even
afford a pack of Jelly Babies. Go and steal his wallet. It's right by his
side."

"What if I'm caught?"

"You'll have a bed, a roof
and food provided by Her Majesty's Pleasure. Win-win."

He trotted over to the café. I
looked around then followed, sweat prickling my underarms. Mephistopheles
rubbed his face against the man's leg then stood up and put his paws on the
chair, purring. The man ignored him.

"Dude, now!"

I grabbed the wallet as I passed.
Mephistopheles purred louder, then bit the man's wrist and fled. My heart
pounded as I rounded the corner. Mephistopheles joined me from the other
direction.

"Good work grasshopper. Now
give it back."

"You just made me steal
it!"

"Nobody put a gun to your
head. How the hell do humans live so long? You're rejects. Nature clearly
evolved you for a
joke
. Give the fat
man his wallet, tell him you saw someone steal it and you retrieved it."

I wiped my sweaty hands on my
jeans. Mephistopheles used my leg as a scratching post until I surrendered and
walked back to the café, certain everyone was staring and knew my guilty
secret. I tried swallowing but my mouth was dry. I'd never spent time in a
police cell and I was proud of that. I stopped by the table and glanced back.
Mephistopheles rubbed his chin against the corner of the wall and flicked his
tail.

"Um." I might as well
write 'GUILTY' all over my naked body and dance through the streets shaking
maracas. "I uh saw a guy take your wallet." I dropped it on the
table. "I got it back for you."

I swore my heart stopped. I
jammed my trembling hands in my pockets, feeling sick. Mephistopheles sat
neatly on the pavement, looking unimpressed.

"Thank you! I didn't even
notice! Here, let me give you something."

"No, it's fine."

"I insist. It's rare to find
someone so honest."

I bit my lip, my stomach
clenching. He opened his wallet and gave me twenty pounds.

"No, really, I don't need
it."

"Please take it. The wallet
was a gift from my father. I would've been devastated if I'd lost it."

I thanked him and scuttled off,
guilt burning a hole in my guts. Mephistopheles chased me.

"Wow you're not so dumb
after all. There was me thinking brains in humans were an optional extra."

"Why did you make me do
that? I can't take his money. I'm giving it back."

Mephistopheles jumped onto a nearby
wall and slapped me across the face. Claws extended. "Listen punk. I've
adopted you as my...how can I put this? 'Dogsbody' sounds so demeaning. Carer.
I expect you to provide me with a home, food and a warm bed. Everything you're
about to lose. So unless you want to spend the rest of your life sleeping in a
cardboard box and giving sexual favours to ugly, pathetic men in exchange for
whatever toxin you'll get addicted to, to help you escape your shitty life,
you'll do as I say."

"What am I supposed to tell
the judge when I'm hauled into the courts? 'A cat told me to do it'?"

He put his paws on my shoulders
and butted his head against my forehead. His tail coiled around my throat.
"Drop me in it and prison will be the least of your problems. I can behead
mice with one bite. I wouldn't be that kind to you. And when you finally die,
I'll eat your corpse. I'll have such a delectable feast there'll be nothing
worth burying."

Marvellous. Not only was I
talking to a cat, I was talking to a psychologically unstable criminal
mastermind. Why couldn't he have been a dog?

He sat on the wall. "There's
a pet shop over the road. Swipe a pirate hat and boots for me."

"Are you going to make me
steal you a galleon as well? Can't I pay with my ill-gotten gains?"

He stared hard at me until I
surrendered. He followed me into the pet shop and jumped onto the counter,
parading back and forth. While the cashier was distracted, I stole a hat and
two pairs of boots from the boutique section. As I was leaving, Mephistopheles
snatched a collar from the counter and ran through the doors, setting off the
alarm. I hurried out then he returned the collar.

"You don't want that?"
I asked.

"It's not in your
size." He marched off.

We went around the corner then I
showed him the stolen items. He stepped into the boots and made me put the hat
on his head. He approached a shop window and walked up and down, admiring his
reflection.

"I look the
business
! I don't suppose they had a
sword?"

"Why would a pet shop have a
sword?"

"I'd look so badass with a
sword."

 
He moaned on and on about the damn sword until
I went into a home shop and stole a dagger shaped letter opener. He gripped it
in his tail and strutted proudly, occasionally threatening toddlers in buggies
with it.

I spent the rest of the day stealing
people's wallets, iPhones and even a laptop before handing them back for a
reward. By the time I returned home the next morning, I was exhausted,
guilt-ridden and richer than I was yesterday. Rob didn't acknowledge
Mephistopheles when we entered.

"What are you doing with
that stuff?" He indicated to the bowl, bed and box of cat food in my arms.

"It's for my cat,
Mephistopheles."

"Aren't you too old for an
imaginary pet?"

"I found him."

"I'm not having a cat
covering the place in fur and fleas when I'm trying to sell it."

"You're a real Prince
Charming, aren't you?" Mephistopheles hissed. "You cabbage patch
troll."

I inwardly cringed.

"What did you call me?"
He lifted me by my collar and slammed me into the wall.

"It wasn't me! It was-"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mephistopheles sharpening his claws with the
letter opener. I sighed and did the only thing I could think of - I head butted
Rob.

He stumbled backwards, dropping
me. I hit the floor then he kicked me in the ribs.

"Dad was right. You're a
useless waste of a life. You're not spending another minute here. I've put up
with your idiocy for long enough. Hell, I've even covered for you."

"When the fuck did you ever
cover for me?" I leapt up. "You stood there and
watched
while he kicked the shit out of me!"

"Look how he got rewarded
for it," Mephistopheles said. "What've you got for all the years you
were abused, demeaned, spat on?
Nothing
.
He doesn't deserve the house.
D'you
think he'll give
you any money from the sale? No, he'll spend it on whores and booze." He
held out the letter opener. "Teach him a lesson."

"You know what?" Rob
snarled. "You
deserved
it!"

I grabbed the letter opener and
stabbed it into Rob's neck. He fell to the floor, gurgling. Shock immobilised
me. The only other person I'd seen die was our father. Rob pulled the dagger
out. It slipped from his crimson grasp, his blood seeping across the floor. He
weakly grabbed my leg, his lifeless eyes staring into mine. Mephistopheles
leapt onto the windowsill and checked his boots for blood.

"You have to get rid of the
body. Get shot of the carpet too. He's ruined it by bleeding all over it. It's
disgusting anyway. Buy a time machine and send it back to the seventies."

"What have I
done
?" I ran my shaking hand over
my head.

"Do I need to recap it with
witty commentary and slow action replay?" He headed upstairs. "Which
room's mine?"

"What about the bed I stole
for you?"

"Why would I sleep in a
wigwam when I can have your bed?"

"You pestered me for that
bloody wigwam!"

"Dude, the Egyptians
worshipped cats as gods. I want you to remember that."