The Panopticon (29 page)

My T-shirt is damp. I mind sleeping rough last year, and when I ran out of clothes I robbed a clothes line, but because it was winter all I could find was rows and rows of frozen jeans, and frozen jumpers and knickers and towels. I unclipped one pair of jeans and carried them away like a cardboard cutout.

It’s all buzzing too loud: the light in the lift and Isla and Teresa and Tash, all telling me – what?

The lift pings open. Four doors just stand there. A darts
commentator is making his low speech in someone’s living room. An audience claps. It smells like Fray Bentos pie on the landing. Teresa wouldnae let me eat processed food, apart from the only thing I
can
cook – Kraft macaroni. She would make an exception for that. Usually she got all organic stuff from the butcher. He would bring us chickens, or steak and chops – when he came around for his shags.

Hands shaky, and my legs. I just want tae get in bed with Jay, and watch cartoons, and smoke myself blind. I keep feeling like I’m gonnae pass out, cos I’ve had too much, but I want more. I want to forget.

I tap on the door, but there’s no answer – tap again.

‘Alright, Anais?’

Spin around. It’s troll. Troll Mark, who sells the shan wraps.

‘Alright.’

‘Jay’s expecting you, Anais, has he not answered? He’s fucking wasted, ay. You are looking great, by the way!’

He passes me a wee bong; it’s neat, really pretty green glass. I drag hard on it – and my spine goes numb.

He knocks on the door five times, then twice more.

‘Man, you’re growing up!’ he says.

‘Aye.’

‘Have another smoke, finish it!’

I inhale again, twice, hold it, then drag the last bit of the bong. My throat is burning and my legs are heavy as fuck. He knocks exactly the same way again, and I see it then. A big deep cross gouged into the door – somebody’s done that with a big fucking knife.

‘It’s marked?’

I turn around and the door is open and nobody is there.

‘Aye, it’s fucking marked!’ He slams his fist out and drags me in.

SLAM.

The hall is black; fear in my gut, I want tae go, need tae fucking go – now! He pushes me against the door and there are voices down the hall, and I dinnae ken what was in that bong, but it’s all falling away, the floor, my legs.

I’m being carried down a hallway. I know it’s a hallway because it echoes the way they do in the high-rise flats when there’s nae carpets on the floor.

The living-room door opens and it’s bright and there’s four guys. Four. One, two, three, four, and Mark makes five. One bald guy comes right up to take a look at me. He opens my mouth.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck!

‘I need tae use the bathroom,’ my voice says. I cannae-fucking-breathe.

‘Dinnae waste your time, Anais. The door’s fucking locked.’

Shit! My heart pounds. Dinnae let them know you’re scared, try to smile – maybe I’m just reading this wrong.

‘Sit down, have a smoke?’ The bald guy shoves a joint in my face.

Try to focus. Who’s in here? Count. There’s Mark, a skinny guy in a tracksuit, the bald one, an Asian flashy bloke and a short stocky bulldog fiddling with a webcam.

‘Nice ay ye tae help Jay oot with his debts, hen. You must be a right good girlfriend, ay?’

The windows are covered with bin liners, and I know for
fucking sure Jay’s in his cell. He’s in his fucking cell. I’m woozy, shit! There’s the floor, underneath me. I’m lying back against the wall, but I’m still dropping back, back, back. I can hear them, but I cannae lift my arms now, not even an inch. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

‘What did you give her?’

‘Everything: smack, roofies. She only smoked half, but she was fucking pickled anyway.’

I’m shrinking – there are colours everywhere so I cannae see clearly, but I can hear everything in here, I have crystalline audio vision.

Whoooompf. I need tae not float like this, along the ceiling, cos that strange wee body down there – I’m sure it belongs to me.

‘D’ye like movies, hen?’

The bulldog’s pulling my T-shirt off and I’m numb – the experiment are here. Watching, and they are clever and I am nothing.

‘D’ye hear that, lads – she likes movies. Nod your fucking head, hen. D’ye like movies, ay?’

‘Take her fucking bra off.’

‘Hit my fucking hand away again, hen, and I’ll rape your arse so fucking badly you’ll bleed for a fucking week, ya fucking cunt!’

Black. No colours. No light.

‘She’s gone.’

‘She can still hear – look, she’s listening.’

I’ve got a brand-new bike. It’s red and the wheels go round. If you were a flying cat, would you eat the eggs of kestrels?

Zip rips my gut – intae lurch.

‘Turn her fucking over.’

‘Fucking cunt bit me.’

‘Turn her fucking over!’

33

THERE ARE CASKETS
made out of bamboo and they swing along the forest roof.

The trees are tall and thin and there isnae a lot of leaves up there, so you can clearly see that each casket is open, and the bamboo’s woven in wide circles so you can see through them. Each contraption is about six and a half feet long by two feet wide. It’s the best way tae rot a corpse – did you know that? A bamboo cage at the top of the trees.

‘It’s very comfortable, Anais, you should join us.’ Teresa smiles down at me from a lovely old bamboo cage.

‘Where’s Isla?’

Teresa points along. There’s Isla, her mouth’s open. A centipede crawls out.

‘Mother Teresa?’

‘Aye?’

‘I dinnae feel well.’

‘You’re not well, Anais. Not at all. Dinnae be scared. You’ll stop breathing soon.’

Her kimono sleeves are so wide. Each inch of silk costs more than the person who made it can earn in a year. She’s holding my bone cigarette holder, and smoking, and reading
a book – she flicks her ash and it falls all the way down through the trees.

My neck is getting sore looking up. John’s in the basket next tae Teresa. She’s shifting her kimono so he can see her tits. He begins to wank frantically.

‘Nae offence, Anais,’ he shouts down.

The canopy of baskets sways. The monk is there. So’s Jay; he’s become a skeleton, but I know him by his shoulder blades.

‘Why?’ I’m croaking it out, but he cannae hear me. ‘Why the fuck did you do that?’ I try again.

The twins are playing with a feather headdress and a bouncy ball. Their basket is a double; it’s taller than the others, so they can stand up and play clap-a-hands.

I’m so tired. Lie down and stare up, my eyes are getting heavy.

‘Is it alright tae go tae sleep?’ I ask Teresa.

‘Aye. Just give intae it. Dinnae fight it. Just let go, Anais.’

Her teeth are gone.

I’m sinking into the foliage on the forest floor, and a giant centipede crawls across my stomach, but I dinnae care. I dinnae feel it, I dinnae feel its feet; just a tiny pin, jabbing into my forehead. Then another. It hurts. It’s fucking sore! I open my eyes. Someone is dropping something on my head, sharp enough tae puncture my skin. I touch where one has hit me and, when I take my fingers away, there is blood.

A basket above me is shaking – it’s Tash. She’s shaking her cage and her moustache unfurls – it curls right out through her bamboo cage and all over the sky until it’s dark. It hooks itself around the moon and drags it out the sky.

She’s shouting.

‘Wake up. Right
fucking
now, Anais. WAKE the fuck UP!’

Dry eyes, sour mouth – there’s burnt spoons on the floor and black bags taped over the windows and the room fucking stinks.

Where are they?

Push myself up. Fuck, I can smell vomit, it’s on my hand. Top lip’s burning, coldsores, cankers in my mouth; my tongue is huge, swollen, and I’m shrinking.

Get up, get fucking up! They’re not here, they’ve gone, the webcam’s away. Shit, retching, lean over. Stop. Stop it! Get fucking up: now, Anais. One foot up, then the other one, use the wall. There’s my jeans. Pull them on – fuck, it hurts! Wrap my arms around myself and sink down, sobbing.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Stop crying, get up, finish pulling your fucking jeans on. That’s it, pull them up, dinnae touch the bruises, dinnae stop; get out the fucking flat, now. I rip one of the bags off the windows. Look – there’s still a world down there, there are matchstick prams and Lego dogs. A wee speck of a laddie swings a lead.

Jay. I hope someone kills him.

There was five of them. There was five. There was a webcam. There was five. It’s one of those where a lassie looks all fucked up and underage. Fuck! I can smell them. I can smell them on me. Piss rises up from my jeans.

Toilet. Pull light on. Nobody’s in the flat now, just me. It’s just me, but I need tae go now. One minute, though. One minute. The water’s cold in the taps, my hands are shaky as fuck. There’s a tracksuit top on the floor. Pull it on.

Clever experiment.

I fucking, hate!

I was dreaming of Teresa – she was giving her old punter a hand-job and John was watching and wanking.

Tash kept dropping wee clocks on my face.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

34

I DON’T KNOW
how long it took me tae get back here. I cannae remember most of it. Angus was shouting and saying the polis were gonnae be able tae lock me away now, and Shortie was just standing on the stair staring at me.

This is life. Breathing in, and out. The bathroom is white. My legs are purple bruises. There isnae anywhere I dinnae ache, and I think if I died now, it would be peaceful. Tash would meet me, and Isla.

I want tae just slip under the water – but instead I am pulling myself up, and undoing the lid on nail-varnish remover, and cleaning varnish off my toes. I’m cleaning myself as careful as if I were a newborn.

I would rather do anything than be around people like that again. I want out. I want to watch a fire-breather as dawn comes up on the solstice.
They
cannae have this soul. They have taken everything else and it’s the only thing left that I own. I’m not telling Shortie what’s happened, or anyone else, but especially not Shortie; she’s had enough tae deal with. What would be the point of her feeling hurt as well? Nobody’s gonnae catch those guys, and the polis
fucking hate me anyway. What would they do? Clever experiment.

I go back downstairs, into the office, and Angus is still arguing with PC Arnold.

‘So tag her again!’

‘I dinnae think so, Mr Everlen.’

‘Anais, are you okay? You look really pale,’ Angus asks.

‘I’m fine.’

‘Are you going tae tell us where you have been, Miss Hendricks?’

‘No.’

‘Well, I have no other option than tae take you down the station for questioning,’ PC Arnold says.

‘Come on, look at her – she’s not well, and you cannae take her straight down there and off tae secure, Mr Arnold. She is allowed special consideration, if a family member has died.’

‘Aye, but that wee lassie wasnae related tae Anais, was she?’

‘That’s not the point. The girls develop unusually strong bonds in here, they are a family.’

‘Aye, but they urnay related, are they? We have an order here tae put Anais in John Kay’s. She’ll be kept there until she’s eighteen, I reckon, and that is that!’

‘But PC Craig has improved!’ Angus is almost shouting.

‘Aye, but Anais battered an
innocent
schoolgirl from our village, Mr Everlen. If that family decide tae pursue it, she won’t be done for grievous bodily harm; it will be attempted murder. She needs locked up.’

‘Tag her – I’ll take her tae school personally, and I’ll go at four o’clock and collect her at the gate. You can monitor
where she is: and the rest of the time she’ll be on total house-arrest. We let her go tae the funeral on Thursday – and then she’s all yours!’

‘I dinnae think so, Mr Everlen.’

‘Well, your sergeant said I could legally push for extenuating circumstances tae be taken into consideration, should we prove that Anais was in a state of extreme shock when she got in that fight.’

‘That’s what my sergeant said?’ he asks.

‘Aye, pretty much. And you better check with him before you take her anywhere, or you might be the one who gets in trouble,’ Angus says.

‘I’ll check that with the station.’

‘You do that.’

Angus shows him out.

I walk out behind them. Shortie runs up.

‘So are you gonnae tell me where you’ve been yet?’ she asks me.

‘No.’

‘Fuck off, Anais, what’s the big secret?’

‘I umnay going tae John Kay’s.’

‘How? Are they letting you off? Are they letting you stay here?’

‘No.’

‘Then, what?’

‘D’ye think Dylan could break intae the staff safe?’

‘Aye. How?’

Shortie squeezes my hand and she doesnae need me to tell her. I’m getting out. I dinnae care how. If I don’t, then I will only ever have been nothing, and no-one, and what is the point of surviving this – for that?

‘Anais?’

‘Aye, Angus.’

‘I have an order here, I got it from the head of the social-work department. Dinnae ask. He knows someone I know. Anyway, they are going to make sure that you can stay until the funeral – you have special consideration. I am meant tae take you to school tomorrow, but I trust you tae come back, and on Thursday we will go and see Isla off, okay?’

I well up, and he squeezes my shoulder.

‘D’ye want tae talk about it, Anais?’

‘No. But, Angus?’

‘What?’

‘Thanks.’

I am wearing all warm clothes. They call it dressing for the weather. I’ve never bothered before, but right now I want tae be warm, and safe. Head down the woods. Dinnae let the experiment see you planning.

This is what’s different from yesterday – I’ve got my hair cut into a bob, I dinnae want to smoke, I dinnae want food, but I will eat, and not just chocolate. I will eat soup, and bread, and cheese, and I will stop having a day on and a day off tae stay skinny. I will comb my hair, and brush my teeth and learn how tae be nice to me.

Run and catch the first bus; it gets me into town and then I get the second one. Folk from school are on it. It’s stuffy in here. I cannae believe they are making me go in for one day. I sit up the back and have a smoke, just so I have something tae do with my hands. I’m late for school, by like what … a few months?