Are These Eyeballs?

by Garry Charles

  He’s not sure what he expected, after all, why should this haven for children have faired any better than the town that surrounds it like a dank shroud. He leans back with outstretched arms and inadvertently runs his finger over the lettering carved into the wood. He remembers when the markings were made and doesn’t have to look at them to know what they say.

  P.W

  4

  W.M

  Pamela Wade; nine months his senior, but his none the less. His first love and his first broken heart.

  They say that the first is always the hardest, but he will never know. He’s yet to meet the second. Not that he has spent his life alone; there have been numerous women, but none that could ever be called his love.

  Pamela.

  She’d had hair of the faintest blonde and eyes of the clearest blue. Her skin had been so pale as if to be white and unblemished, but this is not how he remembers her. In his memory her hair has been darkened with blood and her eyes are staring at him lifelessly. In the flickering light her skin had looked blue.

  Tears roll down his cheeks as he continues to trace out the P and the W. This is the memory he has come to confront, but it’s not to be done here.

  He wipes away the tears on his bare arm and transfers them to his jeans. Pushing himself up and looking across the field at the building that fills him with dread.

  The grass underfoot is brown, burnt dead by the sun and starved of water. It crunches underfoot as he makes his way cautiously towards the small brick structure.

  Deep down he knows that his fears are unfounded, the shrink has been paid well to convince him of this, but still he feels the fourteen year old boy inside shiver in terror. Despite the heat he is cold on the inside, a chill that has no cure but to face what he has run from for so long.

  He stops in the shadow of his destination, frozen by the harmless five letter word that looks down at him from above the door.

  Gents

  As he stands trapped in the gaze of that single, harmless word things begin to change. In his minds eye the old bulk head light above the sign flickers to life with a faint buzzing sound and the sky moves from mid afternoon to late evening. The windows repair themselves and it is no longer summer. It is twenty five years ago.

  It’s time to face his demons.

  ***

  He hears laughter and turns to see himself - albeit younger - walking hand in hand with his first love. She’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen and he’s filled with sadness that she’ll never reach womanhood.

  They don’t see him as they approach and even if they could they would think him a ghost, an apparition suddenly appearing from the ether. He makes to move to one side, but too late. They pass through him as if he didn’t exist.

  “HEY MASON.” He turns, but the shout isn’t directed at the man he is now, but at the boy he used to be.

  “Oh God.” He wants to leave this place, but he knows he must see it through. No matter how painful; the past must be reconciled.

  “Hey, Mason, you shithead. I’m talking to you.” James Kiddy and his friends appear from the dark and head directly for the lovebirds. “What’re you up to?” The mischief in their voices hints at malice.

  James Kiddy - the town bully and a coward - full of bravado when surrounded by his lackeys. But a quivering baby when suffering the blows that come from his father every other night.

  The young Wayne stops walking and Pamela pulls herself close to him. She is older and feels the need to protect him.

  “What do you want James?” She keeps her back straight and eyes forward.

  “I’m not talking to you bitch.” James dismisses her with a sneer, turning his attention quickly back to Wayne. “Ain’t you a little young to be courting?” The tone is one of derision and the boy shrivels under the bully’s hard stare. “You should fuck off home and leave her with us.”

  “Leave him alone James,” Pamela snaps, stepping between the bully and her love.

  “Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?” She flinches as James feigns to slap her.

  Instead he swings a fist into Wayne’s stomach, forcing the boy to his knees.

  “You bastard.” Pamela makes to lunge, but James freezes her with a sideways look.

  “Don’t make me hit a lady,” he threatens.

  She overcomes her fear and lashes out, finger nails cutting four bloody gashes along the side of his cheek.

  “Cunt.” The backhanded slap rocks her head and she falls at her boyfriend’s side. “You’ve upset me now.”

  “You know we’ll tell.” Between deep breaths Wayne uses the only defence he has.

  I’m gonna tell, I’m gonna tell.” James dances around them, kicking his victim in the chest. “Only if they find you.”

  He instructs his friends to pick them up.

  “Don’t be stupid, James.” Pamela spits blood as she’s dragged passed him. “They’ll have you back in borstal.”

  James laughs at the threat. “You won’t tell anyone.” He leans in close, licking the specks of blood from her chin. “Cos if you do I’ll cut you up bad.” He raises the knife in front of her and, as expected, she remains silent.

  “Throw ‘em in the bog,” James orders and the boys cheer, joyful at the idea of flushing heads down the crap laden toilets. “We’ll let them think over their options.” He calls them out before the fun can begin and slams the metal gate shut.

  He takes the chain and padlock, securing the entrance as he pushes his head between the bars and laughs at them.

  “Have a nice night sweeties.”

  ***

  The older Wayne watches them leave, shouting and cheering as they fade back into the night. With no more substance than a morning mist he passes through the locked gate and looks down on himself and Pamela.

  The night is far from over for them and he’s starting to wish he’d never come back. What good is to be done by witnessing what he has suppressed for so many years? He closes his eyes.

  Closure.

  At least that’s what the well paid shrink has told him. Closure is what he needs before he can move on. If he wishes to embrace his future he must first accept his past.

  Holding onto hope he opens his eyes again and allows the images to play out their story.

  ***

  “Are you alright?” Pamela runs a hand down his back, but he shrugs her away, embarrassed that he is crying when he knows he should be strong. “Don’t push me away.” She sits beside him. “I love you,” she says the words he has longed to hear for so long and they restart the flood of tears.

  “I’m sorry Pam.” He lets himself fall into her arms. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not you who should be sorry.” She too is crying. “It’s that wanker.” The last word is shouted out.

  “Don’t. They might come back.” Wayne has no wish for the thugs to return.

  “Why not, they can’t get to us.” She stands and approaches the gate. “They left us locked up safe,” she shouts, rattling the chain with a laugh.

  Wayne dries his eyes and joins her, looking out at the sky that is now darkening into night, the stars hidden by even darker clouds. The air has turned cold.

  “At least we have light.” On cue the fluorescent tube flickers once, twice, three times.

  “Don’t go tempting fate.” She lowers herself down and sits against the wall. “It looks like we’ll be here all night.”

  In the distance he is sure he can still hear the mocking laughter of James Kiddy. He retreats into the tiled room, his nose curling at the aroma of stale piss and something worse. He’s not sure what it is. The smell is faint, but it’s enough to taint his taste buds with its foul odour.

  He takes another step and the smell intensifies; a rank stench that causes his throat to close up. He wants to appear braver than he feels and manages to hide the almost vomit behind a cough. He returns to the doorway and the sanctuary of fresher air.

  “Do you think they’ll find us?” He tries to make co
nversation, immediately wishing he’d picked another subject.

  “Of course. That old fart Tally will be around first thing in the morning for cleaning duties.” She doesn’t sound as confident as she’d hoped. “And like you said, at least we have light.” This time the tube flickers twice and dies, only a faint glow at each end remains as a taunting reminder.

  “And you had a go at me,” he says, nudging her and faking a laugh as a shiver threatens to rack his spine.

  “I doubt we’re going to get much sleep tonight.” She slips an arm around his shoulder.

  “There’s better things to be had tonight than sleep.” The voice is low and sing song in nature. It strikes a new fear into the hearts of the lovebirds.

  “I hope you’re ready to play.”

  ***

  For what seems an eternity they do not move, held in the grip of terror brought on by the knowledge that they aren’t alone. It feels like hours before Wayne can bring himself to move, the sound of movement in the shadows spurring him on.

  “Quick!” He grabs her hand and pulls her towards the safety of the nearest cubicle.

  “Don’t be shy, I won’t hurt you,” the disembodied voice giggles. “Not much.” The giggle becomes a manic laugh as Wayne drags her through the narrow door and closes it behind them.

  He fumbles with the lock, an ancient brass affair with a stiff thumb screw. With a dull click the latch falls home and he breathes a sigh.

  “What…..” Pamela tries to ask but he raises a hand to her mouth and shakes his head whilst he mouths the word ‘Quiet’.

  She nods her acknowledgement and they stand silent as the voice moves nearer. A footfall on the ceramic floor is followed by the sliding drag of the other foot and then a pause. Wayne holds his breath, releasing it as quietly as he can only upon the second foot step.

  “Come out, come out. Wherever you are.” A door further up is swung open with a bang and Pamela has to bite back a scream.

  “Sssshhhh,” Wayne whispers the warning as another door is kicked open.

  “There’s no point hiding.” Nearer than before and accompanied by the cloying stench from earlier. “You’ll only make me mad.” The next door is torn from its hinges and thrown across the room.

  “We’re going to die.” Pamela has lost any courage she may have had and begins to cry.

  “Yes you are, my dear.” The hands appear under the door, grabbing her by the ankles and pulling her backwards.

  She falls forward, arms flailing in an attempt to halt the descent. She snatches at the toilet paper dispenser, but it shears from the wall and clatters to the floor.

  The sound of her head impacting with porcelain edge of the bowl is hollow and sickening. Her scream is cut short as her eyes flicker for a second and then roll up to show the whites.

  Her legs have vanished under the door and still Wayne hasn’t moved. He watches her head slide from the toilet and hits the floor. He steps further back as blood splashes towards his shoes.

  “Help me.” Her eyes come back into focus and she pleads with him, her words bringing him out of the trance like state.

  He kneels down and takes her arm in his hand, his feet slipping in the water puddled around the base of the toilet. He tries to pull her back, but falls on his rump.

  “Please,” she whimpers and is gone, under the door and into the arms of the unseen monster.

  ***

  As an adult he can only watch, as scared as the boy he once was. He has no memory of what happened to Pamela because he never saw it, but now he is forced to see her anguish.

  “No,” the word hangs on his lips and the beast pauses.

  “Stay out of this.” The beast from his past looks straight at him. “She’s mine, not yours.” Behind matted hair the left eye twitches in madness.

  “Can he see me?” He thinks to himself, but that isn’t possible. “It’s my mind playing tricks.” He backs away.

  He has no wish to see any more, but he must. That is why he’s here.

  “You see my dear, no one here to save you,” the beast croons.

  Wayne sees a glint of blade in the beasts hand and turns away in horror, but still he hears her strangled scream.

  ***

  On either side of the cubicle door sits a different Wayne. One is fourteen and terrified, the other is an adult and in a state of shock. He knows what his younger self is going through and he holds a hand to the door and cries with him.

  “Shut up you simpering scamp.” Both Wayne’s jump in response to the snapped order. “She’s in a better place know.” They hear the sound of tearing fabric and then the monster begins to grunt.

  The boy has no idea of what is happening in the dark, but the man is older and wiser. He knows the humiliation the dead girl is being made to suffer.

  The grunting quickly becomes frantic, the air filled with a howl of perverse pleasure. And then a wet slap as the body is discarded, thrown to the floor. The neck is twisted and she faces the man, looking at him with eyes devoid of life.

  ***

  The boy has stayed quiet for what feels like a lifetime and has yet to hear any more noise. He has almost begun to believe that the monster has gone when the door rattles in its frame and he screams.

  “Let me in little piggy.” Grimy hands venture under the door, searching for innocent prey. “I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll gut you alive.” The young Wayne backs up alongside the toilet, urine running down his leg and his stomach threatens to lurch.

  He knows that he’ll never see his parents again, never play with his brother and never again will he go to school. He’s going to miss out on so much and Pamela is gone. These thoughts snap something in his mind and he’s filled with anger towards the unseen hunter.

  “FUCK YOU!” He jumps forward and crushes three enquiring fingers and feels a small triumph at the resulting yelp of pain.

  “Fuck me?” The hands retreat and the monster shouts. “I’ll fuck you, just like I did your pretty girl.” The triumph is short lived. “I’ll keep you alive though so you get to know pain.”

  ***

  “Leave me alone.” The older Wayne steps up to the screaming beast and yells at him.

  “I told you to stay out of this.” It turns on him and he feels the fetid breath and warm spittle on his face.

  ***

  The boy is confused. The monster has stopped taunting him and he’d swear it’s shouting at someone else. It sounds like a one sided conversation and it scares him more than anything.

  ***

  “I’ll kill you just like I did the girl.” It glares at the uninvited guest. “Just go away.”

  “No.” The older Wayne is defiant; he knows that none of this is real. It’s just his memory facing the past.

  “You’ll soon change your mind.” It charges at him with arms outstretched, passing through the man that’s not really there and colliding with the wall.

  The impact breaks its nose and stars dance before its eyes. It staggers on the spot and then collapses.

  ***

  Sat on the toilet, his feet curled up under him the boy has slept. He can’t remember letting his eyes shut, but he’s surprised at the dull light that has awakened him.

  The monster had fallen silent after its argument with no one and the young Wayne now sits and listens intently for any sign that it’s still there.

  He looks up at the source of light and sees the morning sky through the open skylight. For the first time in long hours he is boosted with the hope of escape.

  Leaving the safety of the toilet he crouches close to the floor, lowering his head until he can see under the door. He sees the monsters feet and legs – unmoving - to the left of the cubicle.

  Very slowly he stands and rests a hand on the latch. Then he turns it.

  ***

  The adult Wayne has been stood near the locked gate and is watching the sun crest the horizon when the crack of the latch brings him out of his thoughts.

  He spins around, ready to
face the end of the longest night of his life.

  ***

  The boy cautiously opens the door and peers out at the prostrate monster. He looks over at the skylight and is relieved to see that the sinks are indeed directly below it.

  In his mind he counts to three. “One, two, three.” He breaks from the cover of the cubicle and runs.

  “Not so fast, piggy.” The hand grabs his leg and he tumbles forward. “You don’t smell so fresh, pig boy.” The monster crawls up his body and leers down at him.

  He looks sideways to avoid the mad eyes and sees Pamela how he will always remember her.

  ***

  “This isn’t how it ends.” The older Wayne’s voice screams out as he watches the beast raise the knife, ready to strike with deadly precision.

  “Help me Mister.” The boy sees him and begs to be saved.

  “NO!” He’d not died that night, the stranger had saved him. “NO!” He screams again and throws himself at the beast.

  ***

  Suddenly the boy is free and the monster is rolling around on the floor with the man. He does not hesitate to consider the arrival of his rescuer, climbing onto the sink and jumping as hard as his legs can push him. He grabs the lip of the window and pulls himself up and out into the cleansing air of the morning.

  “I’ll get help,” he shouts down to his saviour before leaping to the ground and running as fast as he can towards the houses on the edge of the park.

  ***

  The beast fights back with an unexpected ferocity and Wayne struggles to focus as his mind spins out of control. He can’t believe what’s happening. But he can’t deny the heat of the blade as it cuts a swathe along his arm, slicing through and bearing the bone.

  Light is finally flooding the room and for the first time he gets to see the true beast.

  The beast is no more than a man. Long haired, ferrety faced and dirty as hell.

  “You bastard,” he yells, batting the knife away and sending it skittling across the floor. “You ruined my fucking life.” He punches a fist into the contorted face, overcome with rage.