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by Rachel Martin


  “Get off.” She violently shook her Mother’s hand off and began wailing even harder.

  She heard her Mother step away and stand silently behind her, she could hear her wringing her stupid hands together.

  “Right that’s it,” her Mother yelled suddenly. She grabbed Sadie by the arm and pulled her up onto her feet to face her. “I’ve had enough of this. What have we done to you, ay? What’ve we done that’s so bloody awful that we deserve this?”

  Sadie fell silent. Tears rolled down her screwed up face.

  “Ay?”

  Still silence.

  “Right then, guess what?” Her Mother continued.

  Still, Sadie was silent.

  “You’re grounded all by yourself for the next six months. So you’ll be going nowhere for a long time. And you’re forbidden, do you hear me, forbidden from escaping this compound and going back to that estate ever again.”

  “Six months!”

  “Yes, Sadie. Yes, six months. And right now I think that’s far too lenient. Just wait ‘til your Father gets home. Maybe he’ll have other ideas. I’ll tell you this for nothing though: We are not paying good money for an education you can’t even be bothered to turn up to. I will be checking your GPS and your microchip every day… do you hear me… every day. I promise you that. You’re not making fools out of your Father and me ever again. You won’t be able to hide from us anywhere. I’ll know exactly where you are every second of every day.”

  “So I am your prisoner?” Sadie screamed.

  “Yes Sadie, yes you are my prisoner.” Her Mother was nodding. She was looking better, stronger, tougher. All her sorrow had been transmitted into Sadie’s heart. “You don’t know what’s good for you, so I’ll have to force you to go to school, to increase that beautiful brain of yours. Trust me, it’s for your own good, even if right now you’re too dumb to see it. You have no idea how lucky you are to have parents like us.” She slapped the kitchen sideboard. “Heaven forbid how hard-done-by you’d think you were if you lived outside the compounds. You’ve been out there, but you don’t see. You have no idea about life Sadie.”

  Why does everyone keep saying that to her? What does anyone else know what she thinks? She had a better idea about life than they did. She was sure. They had forgotten. They were living on borrowed time. She fell forwards onto her knees and cried harder and harder. She clutched her own stomach, she could barely breathe.

  Her Mother grabbed Sadie’s arm, pulled her back up onto her feet, and shook her. “You have no idea about this country, about what’s happening, about what’s going to happen. You silly little girl.” She let her go with a push and walked around the island, hands on hips, staring up at the ceiling. “I’ll tell you this as well…” She was glaring at Sadie again and pointing. “No one in this God forsaken world cares about you Sadie. No one except your Father and me. No one. Don’t you get it! From now on I will be driving you to the school gates and picking you up. I do not trust you… I cannot trust you. Even if I wanted to, not now, you’ve blown it. And if I hear you talk to that Elise again, or hear you think about that dreadful estate, you’ll be grounded until you finish your qualifications. You’re going to be an asset to this society Sadie. God forbid that you are not.”

  “Muuuuum.”

  “I’m not having this argument with you ever again.” She picked up the kettle and filled it with some bottled water. “You have dug your own grave. Now that’s an end to it.”

  “But Muuuuum.”

  Her Mother clicked on the kettle. “I mean it, six months minimum. No school parties, no extracurricular activities, nothing. This is your fault. You knew not to go out there. You know it’s not safe. If something had happened to you how do you think we would’ve felt? How we’d still feel. And what about your little brother? Did you ever think about him? No. Of course not. You are selfish and immature. I promise you if you ever go out there again, you’ll be an adult before you’re free. And if I find out that you or any of your revolting friends had anything to do with Mrs Lanes car going missing you’ll know all about it.”

  “What?” Sadie blubbered.

  “Don’t think I don’t know that you were listening when she told us about her aid work out in the Estates. I know you were listening. I can’t put anything past you right now.”

  “I can’t believe you’d think I’d do that.” Sadie was genuinely hurt at the accusation. What kind of person does her Mother think she is?

  “Well, I don’t know you anymore Sadie. I don’t know what you are capable of.”

  “I wish I had taken it,” Sadie screamed.

  “There’s no such thing as a coincidence Sadie. I’ve had this awful feeling. It’s been getting worse and worse. I’ve been denying it, burying my stupid head in the sand. And now this. I can’t believe it. Well actually, I can believe it, what with the way you’ve been acting.”

  Sadie’s body was contorting and twisting in fits of rage and hopelessness.

  “Stop it. I’ve had just about all I can take of you. You’ve been in a foul mood for weeks, and we don’t deserve it.”

  “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!! You’re a big fat liar,” she screamed, her voice growing hoarser and hoarser with every word.

  “Well guess what? Right now I hate you too. I can’t look at you any longer.” Her Mother picked up Sadie’s satchel from the floor and shoved it into Sadie’s hands. “Go to your bedroom young lady, I don’t want to see your face again today.”

  “Fine,” Sadie screeched as she flew away and stomped up the stairs.

  “And you better do your homework, or you’ll know all about that too,” her Mother called out from the bottom of the stairs just as Sadie reached the top.

  Sadie slammed the door of her bedroom so hard the whole house shook. She ran and jumped onto her bed burying her face into a pillow. She was trapped in the grip of a sorrow so profound she felt as though her rib cage would be crushed. There was a pit in her stomach which her Mother had squeezed and twisted so tight, that she thought she might never feel normal again. She hugged herself and wept with reckless abandon. By degrees, her tears turned to fury. She began punching the bed and the pillow, screaming and screaming into it. The conversation was going over and over in her mind. She jumped up and turned her rap music up full blast. She rolled open her tablet. Her Mother had switched off the internet; she threw the tablet against the wall, it bounced off unbroken. The knot was turning into a black hole of rage sucking in every other emotion. It demanded being heard. Never in her whole life had she been so devoid of other dimensions, no happiness, no hope, no joy, nothing but pure unadulterated hatred. She looked up to the ceiling and screamed, despair emanated from the pit and rippled out from within. Who was her Mother, the liar, to tell her what to do? She fell on the edge of her bed shaking with a fury she had no idea how to contain. She never knew a person could feel such depth of passion she was suffering from right now. She leapt up from the bed and began furiously ripping down her childish posters.

  Her door swung open suddenly. Her Mother smashed off the speaker. They were flung into silence. She seized Sadie by both arms and shook her violently.

  “Stop it you stupid, inane child.”

  “No, I hate you,” Sadie wailed.

  Her Mother let her go and slapped her around the face full pelt. Sadie fell to the floor, her face stinging. Her Mother shook her hand in the air. Sadie stopped screaming. Her Mother pulled her up onto her feet again. They stared mutely at each other.

  “I thought we’d brought you up better than to act this way.”

  “You and Dad are big fat liars. I hate you both,” she rasped, coldly, trying to contain the violent anger.

  Sadie detected the faint metallic-tang of blood in her mouth. She burst into tears again, her whole body convulsed.

  “Where is all this coming from Sadie?” Her Mother asked stepping back away from Sadie, all the anger was washed out of her voice. “Tell me now, please darling.”

  “No,�
�� Sadie screamed, looking back at her Mother. “You’ll just lie to me.” She turned and fell back onto the bed face first.

  “I just can’t understand what’s got into you,” she said after a long pause. “Please calm down for God’s sake, you’ll burst a blood vessel.”

  “Why do you pretend to care about me so much?” Pillows muffled Sadie's cry.

  “I do care about you, Sadie.”

  “Then why do you lie to me?”

  Sadie felt her Mother’s weight press down on the bed beside her. She felt her breathing. Even that was annoying her. She shivered despite being boiled by the radiation of rage from within.

  “All you care about is what the teacher thinks, what the neighbours think, what the stupid Mothers at school think.”

  “That is simply not true Sadie. I care about you and your little brother far more than you can possibly know.”

  Sadie almost choked on an ironic laugh, before falling into another fit of tears. There was nothing else for it, anger was getting her nowhere. Her Mother laid her hand on her back and stroked her, trying to soothe her. This time Sadie did not fight. All the fight inside her had disappeared, for the moment. Her Mother kissed the back of her head and ran her fingers through Sadie’s hair.

  “I love you darling. I don’t know what’s got into you.” Her Mother got up from the bed.

  Sadie heard her cupboard door open and close.

  “You’ll feel better after some sleep. We can talk later. You can tell me anything. I promise I won’t get mad.” She laid a blanket over Sadie.

  Sadie didn’t look up. She just cried ever more as her Mother disappeared out the bedroom door. She threw off the blanket and stood up. In the mirror, she could see a red hand-print on her face. Bitch, she thought. What a bitch. There was no way in a million years she was going to let herself be imprisoned for six months. She walked over to the window, crossed her arms, and stared down at the garden below. ‘What am I going to do now’? she thought.

  Eight

  Ashley stood on the platform edge. He was hiding in the shadows of the ill-lit cavern, just like everyone else. They were bumping up against him, shoving him from behind. He tried to imagine an impenetrable bubble surrounding him, where no one could get close. It was the only way he could keep a straight face while she watched. He pushed his hand into his pockets and gripped his wallet. No one was stealing that, not today, not ever. Let them try, he thought, just let them try. But not yet, he willed. He maintained a forced smile, for her benefit, while in the other pocket he gripped the knife. The darkness inside him was rising, higher and higher. He begged the train to start up and disappear before he fell into a rage.

  Sadie was looking at him through the train window. She was squinting to see him in the darkness of the underground station. She was completely innocent, he thought, but he could tell that the people out here were wary of her. They were actually afraid of her. They had learned to be suspicious of someone so alien. There must be something up, they thought. She was a trap, they thought. That’s precisely what he had thought of her at first too. It was how she managed to get so close. It wouldn’t be the first time they had used children to weed out the paedos and the muggers and the proper desperates. They were always on the lookout for people to snatch, and the sickos were an easy target. That way, they had an excuse, no one could argue about a paedo being taken. But more recently anyone could be a target. They knew that taking people destroyed morale, and the soldiers loved to destroy morale among the citizens. They laughed and joked as they dragged the victims away. Yes, it was Sadie’s innocence that was keeping her safe out here. But, still… he wondered how much longer it would be until someone cottoned on that she wasn’t bait. She couldn’t come back.

  He hoped he had said enough. But, somehow, he doubted it. He doubted a lot, all the time. He wished he was different. He wished he had said more, he wished he had thought a bit more about her, but she wouldn’t listen anyway. No one listened to him. Maybe he should take her with him when he goes. That way he would be sure she was safe. He actually liked Sadie, he realised, and the only time he ever felt like a real person was when he was around her. She seemed to see him for who he really was. A genuine smile lifted from the corners of his mouth. With people like her, there was hope for this world yet. She radiated a sense of hope, and he enjoyed it. She made him feel like he was someone who had a chance, someone who could actually achieve something, something more than the grey misery of the slums could offer. He felt more alive around her. He wanted to protect her. The people around him began nudging him. He had to hold the rage in.

  He kept up his smiling façade through the anger, while the train seemed to hang in suspended animation. Finally, the over-packed, old tin-can hiccupped into life. The train began rolling sluggishly away. Sadie waved through the window. She was smiling hugely, all her perfect white teeth on display. He waved back, awkwardly. Slowly, she disappeared into the distance, out of view, heading straight into the safety of the compound. He was glad of it. She was going back to where she belonged.

  As soon as she was gone, his smile dropped, and his elbows came out. Ashley pushed the people crowding around him out of the way. He ran for some open space. He had to get up the steps, and outside of the station. He needed to breathe some less dense air. The thought of descending back down into the underground to reach the other lines filled him with dread. But he had to do it. It was the only way. His plan needed him to. He stood staring at the station entrance, watching the people mill about mindlessly. His skin started to burn in the heat of the day. He closed his eyes and breathed in the hot, smoggy air before forcing himself to re-enter and descend, deeper and deeper down into the labyrinth of tunnels and caverns of the Underground. As he dropped down the pressure rose, the heat increased, and the oxygen thinned, his ears popped. He felt faint. He shook his head. Keep it together, he thought while caressing the knife still hidden in his pocket. If anyone comes too close… fuck them up. The smell of death and decay engulfed him, it was like he was heading into a putrid cloud. Out of the mist, people pushed passed him from all directions. He kept his hand gripped on his wallet in his pocket. At his feet, rats were brushing passed him. They were running along the edges of the tunnel before they suddenly disappeared entirely from view, gnawing deeper into the guts of the corpse of the underground. He picked up his pace. He was sure that if he stopped, even for a moment, they would chew his toes off through his worn-out trainers. But that was no worse than what happened to them. Someone, somewhere very close by, would find them, kill them, and cook them. He could smell the scent of fried rats now. These days rats were a delicacy. They were meat. Rats on skewers, rat burgers, ground rat mince. There was someone on almost every street corner cooking them up on an oil barrel cut long-ways with a makeshift grate on top. Blackened fat dripped down into the flames. The queues were always enormous, wrapping around buildings, snaking through the wasteland. He remembered his Mother telling him how amazed she was at how quickly everyone came round to the idea of eating rat. Yet, even so, the rat population thrived, much like the human population, he thought. They lived off each other. The rats ate the corpses on the streets, in the alleyways, anywhere they fell, and the people ate the rats. The circle of life. He shuddered.

  He fell over a pile of rubbish, and nearly fell face first into a stack of used needles. He felt sick. A syringe almost got him in the eye. He flushed and scrambled to his feet. He couldn’t breathe. He leaned forwards. He had to push the idea of catching hepatitis or worse aside. An old beggar woman was laughing at him. He stared at her. She stopped laughing. They stared at each other for an age. Her dead eyes revealed nothing but fear and hopelessness. He shook his head and looked up at the roof of the tunnel. It was coated in a yellowy, ashy, mouldy resin. It was almost dripping in places, hanging down like grotesque stalactites. He looked forward and kept putting one foot in front of the other, heading down, down, down, into the bowels.

  Eventually, he found his platform. He stood agai
nst the wall, trying to make himself as small as possible. The stench and the crowds were weighing on him. He looked directly forwards and allowed the heads milling about in front of him to merge into one as he focussed on the far wall, beyond the tracks. There were blood stains on it, like paint splatter. He closed his eyes and entered his own mind, trying to disappear from this place, if only for a few moments. He needed to concentrate. The plan. All the sounds around him blurred and faded away. It was going to be easy. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before. But usually he had lookouts, even though one of them was always Preston, the prick. The name still filled him with rage. He realised he was squeezing the knife in his pocket.

  A sharp push from another body squashing itself onto the platform disturbed his thoughts. His eyes sprang open in fury. It was useless planning anything here. Right now all he could think about was how much he would like to slice open the scumbag’s throat beside him. He was about ready to slice them all open and watch the blood cascade and paint the underground red. Anything would be better than this scum and filth. And still, more and more people scurried through the tunnel, arriving at the platform. People were being knocked over the edge onto the tracks. They would call out. He could hear them hit the tracks. He could smell burning. No one cared. Ashley closed his gaping mouth. Out of nowhere, out of the walls, men in riot gear and hi-viz jackets emerged holding cattle prods. The crowds parted for them. They came and moved the body. Somehow they were still holding it together. Ashley turned away. He didn’t want to see the human-shaped charcoal. The smell was bad enough.

  The sounds of the myriad shouting insults, crunching, burping, sucking rat bones all around him was haunting. Why has it come to this? He kept asking himself. Why? He closed his eyes and tried to ignore them. It was useless. There was that general pointless murmur all around him. He pushed up against the wall, trying to merge with it, anything would be better than spending another second with these hopeless creatures. I am not one of them, I am not one of them. He repeated over and over to himself.

 

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