‘Irresponsible? That’s all?’
‘The incident shook spenders’ faith in the system. And that couldn’t be allowed to happen. Mid Spender areas must stay desirable otherwise they lose their attractiveness for the Low Spenders.’
‘The attractiveness of the Mid Spender areas! Is that all that matters?’
Sofia ignores me. Her voice pulls me back to the present.
‘With the taste of vomit still in my mouth, despite a part of me wanting to run away and never return, I followed Sebastian to another screening room. It was large, lit with vintage-style floor lamps in the corners. A thick scent of cigar smoke filled the air. The room was crowded with people sprawling on sofas. Sebastian ordered some caviar and champagne and we sat there for a long time with our feet up on a footstool. I was trying to convince myself that what I’d seen in the previous room was pretend, just for show, but I knew what I had witnessed with my own eyes and the smell of blood that filled the air couldn’t be faked. I gulped down some champagne to recover, to try and forget. Other people chatted, ate and drank, their eyes occasionally drifting back to the huge screen. I thought they were using this room as a place to relax. I couldn’t see any cause for excitement. The screen was divided into four smaller ones, each showing a different part of a period building. There were close-up shots of beds in different rooms but the cameras kept jumping to other parts of the building. In the corridors I occasionally saw a nurse walk past or what looked like patients, in bathrobes, most of them in their sixties or seventies, but some much younger. Sebastian pressed a small button on the side of the sofa and subtitles appeared on the screen: Termination Wing, Dignitorium, HS03 – Manchester, live broadcast.
‘What?’ I cry out. ‘Hidden cameras in the T-wing?’
‘You didn’t suspect that, did you?’
‘The bastards! The bloody bastards!’
I can’t hold back the tears and I keep hitting the arm of the chair with my fist. Sofia drives her armchair out of the room and I’m left alone with my horrifying thoughts. Minutes pass, I don’t know how many. When Sofia returns, I compose myself with what little composure remains. All I can think of is Philip, and how to get him out. I wipe my eyes and listen, fearing there’s far worse to come, that Sofia has just started to enjoy this.
‘Right now you look sicker than I do,’ she remarks. ‘Nothing very exciting happened in that room, as the odd infirm person was put to death. Occasionally there was an announcement to remind us in which Dignitorium the next termination would be and exactly when. The patients went to bed and fell asleep, forever. Before they went to bed, of course, there was often a scene with the patient refusing to make a Farewell Video, or begging the nurse to wait, wait just one more day, to see my son, daughter, grandchild, cat – anything for another day. I’m too young to die, I’m only sixty-five, or fifty-eight, whatever.’
‘I suppose it’s one thing to agree to it when you’re healthy, another thing to accept it when you’re about to die.’
For the first time she nearly smiles, like we are in agreement.
‘You know, that’s why I enjoyed watching them. Their usual arrogance disappeared in a moment when they realised they had been deceived, that no sedatives were given before the poison, and they couldn’t cheat death. High-Spenders were my favourite; I loved watching how their superiority collapsed in front of my very eyes. In their hospital gowns, with their messy hair and bulging eyes, they were unrecognisable. The piece of chocolate, given to them to take the taste of the poison away, was smeared across their horrified faces. It resembled dried shit. I have to admit, I couldn’t wait to turn twenty-one just to be allowed to see their smug faces transformed again.’
‘You’re lying! They are sedated so that they gently slip into unconsciousness!’
‘What would be the pleasure for us then?’ She snorts. ‘Silly little girl, still believes everything the adverts say.’
I feel vomit climbing up my throat. She continues without batting an eyelid and I feel filthy just for listening.
‘After our first visit to the Club, I was in serious shock. Sebastian was also reluctant to return, haunted by nightmares in which he was the man being hunted in the woods. I had nightmares too, but they were far more sinister than Sebastian’s. I kept being thrown among faceless demons, and they fought over my body, but after they had torn me to pieces I was still there, trapped alive in all of them simultaneously. The nightmares kept returning and I felt constantly sick.
‘A few days later, Sebastian’s parents were upstairs in their room getting ready for an outing to the Primavera Club. I was in the hall, the one you walked across. Walter, the hunter from the film we’d seen, was like a different person in his dark-blue tailored suit, with several golden rings on his fat fingers. He smiled at me like a predator, and asked me how I was. He walked closer to me as I sat at the table, browsing on my mini-screen. He knew he was not in the forest or at the Primavera Club this time; he had to behave himself. But he also knew I wasn’t one of them, and never would be. He kept coming closer. He stopped just behind me. An icy current ran along my spine. There was a long wait, and I prayed that Sebastian’s parents would come down. I heard a slight movement behind me, and I could sense Walter’s thick, red fingers on the top of my chair. Then they slipped onto my shoulders. His heavy grip caused me some discomfort, but stronger was the fear I felt. In that moment I saw myself for what I was, without embellishment. I was nothing, a nobody. A pretty face, one among millions. Behind me stood an Owner, one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the world, and a ruthless killer.
‘His hands came up to my neck; he was only giving me a massage, I told myself. My heart was beating so strongly I feared he would hear it. His left hand slipped beneath my shirt, and cupped my right breast, with his rough, sweaty hands on my bare skin. I was paralysed. I waited. He waited. The next moment he squeezed my breast so hard, I screamed out in pain. Luckily, my scream was masked by the sound of a door opening and voices upstairs, and Walter moved away, unhurriedly, as if nothing had happened. He went over to the window and pretended to look outside. Sebastian’s parents appeared in all their glory, heavily perfumed, ready for another night at the Primavera Club. His mum pressed a kiss on my cheek before joining the two men and wishing me good night. I watched them as they walked down the steps with their usual air of invincibility. I couldn’t believe that these charming, well-dressed people were going to revel in child murder or human torture, and would enjoy a lavish dinner while doing so.
‘Something died inside me that day. Do you remember when as kids we saw that film about the boy who put on his magic glasses and saw the world with ghosts and fairies in it? That’s what happened to me, but instead of fairies I saw rot and decay on a whole new level.
‘I’d witnessed my own defencelessness among the vultures. I didn’t want to be an Owner any more, despite knowing what awaited me as a spender, that my premature death in the T-wing would provide delightful entertainment for Owners. Suddenly I realised I had a home. Somewhere in the Mid-Spender area of north London I had a family waiting for me to return. I knew I wasn’t good enough for that family, but for the Owners I wasn’t bad enough. I belonged nowhere.
‘Once the helicopter carrying the three of them had disappeared, I could breathe again. But the terror didn’t leave me. I knew I had been lucky to escape Walter, but I might not be so lucky the next time. I’ve never known such homesickness before or since; all I wanted was to flee, to belong. I would have rather been an average Mid Spender than at the bottom of the Owners’ ladder.
‘That night I begged Sebastian to fly back to London, which we did, but even in his penthouse I didn’t feel safe. It dawned on me that I’d brought this upon myself, I’d chosen this over the security of my family. The next day I fled Sebastian’s city pad in panic while he was in the bath.
‘I wandered in Hyde Park for hours, watching people go about their simple pl
easures, playing games, cycling, chatting, walking their dogs. I fought the urge to go up and warn them of what awaited them. But I knew they wouldn’t believe me. Eventually the dark clouds that had been lingering ominously gave way to torrential rain. Not thinking of anyone else but themselves and their kids, the people let their masks of civility slip, as if washed away by the storm. They pushed each other out of the way in their haste to find shelter. That’s when I saw them for what they were, and I couldn’t bring myself to care about the herd any more. I just wanted to go to the only place where I felt safe. It was like the return of the prodigal son. I snuck back into our home that evening, burning to tell you all what the Owners were really about, to warn you. To be your hero. To give you another chance. I wanted you all around, to listen to me, to protect me, to tell me it had all been a nightmare. To assure me I would never again be valued for my market price.
‘I got home late in the afternoon. I had imagined the scenes of warm hugs and forgiveness for which my heart ached so badly. All I wanted was to sit on my favourite seat in the conservatory, and be surrounded by loving family. But when I arrived, you were sitting there already, being admired. You, the spoiled princess, the perfect girl dreaming up the perfect life, a good husband, happy children, everything I didn’t have and didn’t want. And whatever I tried to do, I would always remain a second-class daughter. It was like an attack, right in my face. I sensed your superiority, that you were better than me. That I was excluded from the family idyll. I also sensed your discomfort that I had returned. Your gloating words, hoping I had broken up with Sebastian, have always haunted me. When I needed the most support, that’s when you let me down.’
She reaches for her drink, and gulps it down with trembling hands.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask why she didn’t tell me this there and then, but I quickly realise she’s right. I wouldn’t have cared.
‘Sofia, we were children. I was barely thirteen. I was immature, I know.’
She looks at me as if I’m a strange exotic animal.
‘You really want this money, don’t you?’
‘It’s because–’
‘I’m not interested.’
‘The sum is pocket money to you, but it would save our lives.’
‘Our lives?’
‘I spent all my savings to find you. To cut a long story short, if you don’t help me, the Dignitorium remains my only choice.’
Her face is unmoved. She asks me to pour her a fresh glass of water and I relish focusing on such an ordinary task for a moment.
‘Maybe you’re lucky,’ she says after taking a sip. ‘I might even grant you your wish. By now, any anger or desire for revenge have long gone.’
‘Time heals all kinds of wounds, doesn’t it?’
‘Time has just made things worse, magnified the painful memories,’ she says with irritation. ‘No. It’s because I finally found my gratification for all you lot have done to me.’
‘Gratification?’
She leans back on the chair, covers her feet with the blanket and tugs its edges around them. I empty my glass and prepare myself for another blow.
‘I had mixed feelings about the Primavera Club. I never had the stomach to re-visit the torture rooms or the hunter film. But I became a regular in the screening room that broadcasts live from the Termination Wings. What I found dull and uneventful at first, I quickly developed a taste for. I can’t even explain why. Was it cruelty or just nostalgia? A desire to feel after the long years of the numbness which all Owners experience sooner or later? Who knows?
‘Anyway, I found my gratification on the morning of a mild autumn day, four years ago. In my favourite screening room, with a tray of junk food on my lap, I watched the live broadcast from the Termination Wing of the Dignitorium in MN09.’
My heart stops beating, and cold sweat runs down the back of my neck. She reads my face.
‘Yes, princess. It’s what you’re thinking. I saw them when you couldn’t, and while you were weeping on the bench in front of the main building – there’s a camera right above the bench – Mum and Dad slipped into unconsciousness, not at all as peacefully as they’d been made to believe. They begged the nurse, like all the others, to give them one more day, to see their only daughter again – I never forgave them for that word, ‘only’. In fact, as a revenge for that one word alone I like re-watching the tape. I asked for a copy. You want to see it?’
‘No!’
‘You should. You should see the way they held each other’s hands, how Mum cried on Dad’s shoulder and the nurse nudged them to hurry up. World-class entertainment. The shock on their faces when it turned out that no sedation would ease the panic of their final minutes. How Dad tried to negotiate with the nurse, and when all else failed, asked for a double bed which they were given by pushing two single ones together. Once the nurse administered the poison – unlike in the adverts – there was no cuddling and hand holding, not a human word of consolation. The nurse just left the room and never returned. Dad died first, but Mum was still alive and awake. She crouched above Dad’s lifeless body and kept shaking him. She panicked and howled but no-one came, and then she was sick on the bedside and died in agony.’
I remember the dreams that have been haunting me for years, but I always pushed them out of my mind. Instead I believed what Dad had promised me, that they would leave happily, with smile on their faces.
‘No! Stop it!’
‘You have no idea, princess, how long I’ve waited to see your lofty little world crumble and collapse.’
I can hardly breathe. I choke on my tears and turn away from her.
‘Will you watch it?’
‘No! Never!’
‘Fine,’ she says and drives her wheelchair to the door. With her finger above the button that opens the door, she glances back at me. ‘But you have to bear the consequences.’
I don’t know how long I’ve been crying, I’ve lost all sense of time. My knees are wet with my tears; I feel I have no strength in my body. I’ve lost. It’s over and Philip will die, just as my parents died, abandoned, howling, watched by the hungry eyes of the Owners.
Four
It’s ice cold in here, despite the crackling flames in the fireplace. The storm is still raging outside and the room has turned dim and cave-like, an orange patch of light flickering on the ceiling, reflected from the fireplace below. Sofia hasn’t returned yet. I can see Mum and Dad on the bed, dying then dead; I don’t have to watch the video to have it engraved in my mind’s eye. I want to scream, but I fear I won’t be able to stop. I want to run, to ease this unbearable pain that is eating my insides away. There’s nothing for me here.
I jump up from the chair and scurry out of the room, across the hall, ignoring my echoing steps on the floor. I press the button on the wall. When the door starts opening, slowly and heavily, I squeeze myself out and rush down the stone steps. I feel the eyes of the lions on my back, the eyes that have seen it all.
I cross the lawn, making for the dense forest. I run along on a narrow path, not knowing where I will end up. All I know is that I have to get away from here. Sofia won’t give me a lift; she wants to continue spewing out her venom, but it’s too much to take.
I don’t know how long I have been running. When I look back, I can’t see the house or anything else outside the forest. It’s semi-dark, particularly so beneath the ancient trees. I hear an owl, again. It must be right above me. There should be birdsong, but there’s nothing. I’m panting so heavily that I stop and lean against a tree trunk. It seems no one is following me.
I hear a noise behind me; it could be an animal – a wolf! I start running out of sheer terror, into the depths of the forest. I force myself to think rationally about what Sofia said about Walter and other hunters. Does it mean there are no wolves; was it all just a cover-up by the Owners to disguise their sick murders? Or to control the
places where spenders can go? But she didn’t confirm it. I must know for sure if I want to be safe. I look around but everywhere it’s only dark green, so dark it’s almost black.
It hurts me to admit it but returning to Sofia is the only – if extremely slim – chance to save Philip. I sacrificed so much to get here; I won’t give up on him now. I tiptoe to the edge of the forest, where trees are sparse and it’s lighter. I picture Walter in front of me, his thick fingers clutching at his rifle. Now my steps are quieter, to avoid the attention of whatever is out there, a wolf or a hunter. I don’t know which I should be more afraid of.
When I see the silhouette of the house and its many chimneys, I’m almost relieved. I move closer, carefully, so as not to disturb anything underfoot. Leaving the forest, I come to a clearing, just a stone’s throw away from Sofia’s mansion. I’m facing the back of the forbidden wing now, where the patio is. It’s a picture perfect view, but knowing the things that went on here, I find it hard to appreciate the architecture.
The sun has banished the black clouds; the sky is now still and impossibly blue. Sofia sits in her electric armchair on the sun-soaked patio, wearing oversized sunglasses. How different she is now! The way she’s holding her head, slightly tilted to one side, her mouth pulled into a smile, she almost looks carefree. There is gentleness on her face, something I would never expect in her. There must be someone with her, the way she is looking. She speaks but I’m too far away to hear what she’s saying. Maybe it’s safe for me go over, now that she has company. I cut across the clearing, and I see a little girl of about six in the swimming pool. At this moment Sofia notices me.
‘I hope your makeup is not smudged,’ she says, while I’m climbing up the steps.
‘I don’t wear makeup these days.’
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