SCHOOL REUNUION

AN EXTREME HORROR NOVELLA

by

SAM WEST

SCHOOL REUNION

AN EXTREME HORROR NOVELLA

by

SAM WEST

COPYRIGHT SAM WEST 2016

COVER IMAGE

ROCKING BOOK COVERS

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced or used in any way without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews. The characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.

‘We should forgive our enemies,

but not before they are hanged.’

Heinrich Heine.

CHAPTER ONE

Jasper Black pinned the last photograph to the corkboard and reversed his wheelchair so that he could view all six photographs at once.

The sight made him smile. This was going to be so much fun. His gaze was helplessly drawn to the first picture he had pinned to the board, just like it had been throughout the entire process.

Kendra Ball. The love of his life. At thirty-three, she was as gorgeous now as she had been then. More so, if that was even possible. The picture had been taken of her as she unlocked her car door, and her lustrous, brown curls whipped around her sweet little face. She was a doctor now. How ironic. He hated doctors.

His gaze shifted to the next two photographs which were side by side, just as those same two people always had been in school. Jean Glover and Maria Walker. The fucking, bitch slag whores. Jean was a porker now, a fat, single-mother with four kids by three different men.  Maria had kept her looks in a hard, washed-up kind of way. Maria was a two-bit stripper in some dive strip-bar and her photo had been taken as she twisted her toned body around a pole. Her breasts were unnaturally large and round, the skin over them stretched taut and thin. Her once-pretty face was etched with hard lines which no amount of make-up could erase.

His gaze settled on the next two photographs, also side by side. These were of Craig Ellison and Wayne Drake. The class jocks.

Or as Jasper preferred to think of them, the complete fucking cunts.

Just looking at those two fuckers made his lungs tighten unbearably, forcing him to reach for his respirator. He sucked down on the oxygen, each breath filled with hatred; hatred for them. It wasn’t fair that scum like them had the use of their legs, that they had the rest of their lives in front of them. He glared at the picture of Craig Ellison, feeding his hatred. His face was partly obscured by the pint glass, but there was no mistaking his narrow green eyes with the permanent arrogant glint. He was a fair few pounds heavier than he had been in school – all those beers and takeaways, no doubt – but he wore it well. Craig worked hard and partied harder, he was site-manager for a construction company and most weekends he boozed and picked up women.

His gaze drifted to Wayne Drake. Now there was a different story. Unlike Craig, Wayne appeared to have left his bullying ways behind him. He was married with two kids and had a job as an accountant, of all things. The thought of Wayne Drake crunching numbers when all he used to crunch was skulls was entirely laughable. He also looked like a completely different man; gone was the footballer’s physique and floppy blonde hair and in its place was a balding, bespectacled, middle-aged guy with a thickening girth. Of all of them, he found Wayne’s transformation over the past twenty years to be the most shocking – it truly was like the original Wayne had been beamed up by aliens and a stranger had taken his identity.

It’s not what you are now, it’s what you were that matters to me.

Last but not least, his gaze shifted to the final photograph, isolated at the bottom of the corkboard. The borderline, functioning alcoholic Kevin Hendricks, there for no other reason than he was the one-time boyfriend of Kendra Ball. Life had not been kind to Kevin. Two years ago, his wife and daughter had died in a car accident on the way home from the school-run. One year ago, he had been sacked from his post as Headmaster due to unsubstantiated accusations of indecent assault on a bunch of sixth-form girls.

Jasper had done much research on his ‘subjects’ and he didn’t think he did it. Sometimes it didn’t pay to be so handsome. Not that Jasper ever had such a problem.

Life for Kevin Hendricks was about to get even less kind. He smirked behind the respirator.

Yeah, well, Kevin, you don’t know the meaning of misery. Try being a cripple riddled with cancer. Now that’s what you call a hard fucking life.

There was a knock, and one of his staff members poked his head round the study door.

“Sir? Your guests have arrived and are seated,” the young man said.

“Are they awake?”

“Not yet.”

“Perfect, you may escort me through.”

Jasper was quite capable of pressing a button on the armrest of his state-of-the-art, electric wheelchair and taking himself into the game room that had taken a month to design and prepare, but he enjoyed having people do his bidding. What other pleasures did he possibly have in his miserable little life? What else was his money good for if not to be waited on hand and foot?

Well, his sizable wealth was about to be good for something, that was for sure. It was going to be good for a shit-load of fun.

Jasper’s heart tripped in a way it had not done for years as he was wheeled out of his office which was as big as an average public library with twice as many books – first edition, of course – and he made every effort to compose his facial features into a semblance of grave sincerity.

Let the games commence. The class of ninety-nine were about to get together for the final time.

CHAPTER TWO

Kendra Ball opened her eyes and gasped when needle-sharp pain stabbed her retinas.

Too bright.

The throbbing pain in her head pumped in tandem with the squeezing, pulsing pressure behind her tightly-shut eyes.

Slowly, she became aware of all the other hurts. A stiff neck. Numb feet. Aching bones, like she had a fever.

Where am I?

Tentatively, she opened her eyes for the second time, squinting in the glare of the artificial light.

Nothing she saw made any sense to her. Nothing was familiar. Her eyes opened fully and instinctively she went to stand up. She couldn’t; her arms jerked, sending a hot surge of pain racing up her arms and shooting into her neck. Her backside didn’t even leave the seat.

She looked down at herself properly for the first time, taking in every last detail of her captivity in a matter of seconds. Her wrists were shackled to the metal arms of a chair and her ankles to the metal legs. When she tried to rock the chair, it didn’t budge. Instead, the back of her head connected with a hard surface, and when she twisted her head round to look, she saw that the back of the chair extended up past the top of her head.

A metal chair bolted to the floor? What the fuck is this?

This realisation caused sweat to trickle into her eyes, making her blink. This couldn’t be happening. This was the stuff of horror movies, things like this didn’t happen to ordinary people like her. This was impossible.

The rest of the horrific scene slowly sunk into her skull. She was in a room of indeterminable size due to the edges of it being cast in shadows. It wasn’t an ordinary light above her, but a floodlight mounted on the high ceiling. It lit up the surface of the large and highly-polished circular table she was sitting at, blinding her to the rest of her surroundings.

And she wasn’t alone. Five others joined her round the table, each person in a metal chair identical to her own, and each chair evenly spaced around the table at roughly a metre apart. Every one of those five heads lolled on their necks, their faces cast into shadows by the strong, overhead light.

Out-cold. Or dead.

She began to shiver, despite the heat that the spotlight threw off above her head.

It’s not a floodlight. It’s a spotlight. This is a god-damn stage-set.

The overriding sense of unreality grew and she blinked back the tears. She wouldn’t cry, not yet. She racked her brains, trying to think back to the last thing she was doing before she woke up here, to the last thing she remembered.

As if that’s going to help. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she pushed down the rising panic. Come on, think…

It was Saturday afternoon, and she had been running low on groceries. Seeing as it was just her to feed and she was going to a friend’s for dinner anyway, she had decided to walk to the shops rather than drive to the supermarket. She remembered walking along the busy main around and stopping to nip across. A car had pulled up in front of her and then…

And then what?

A half-remembered blur of slamming car doors and a guy lunging for her… and then nothing.

“Hello? Is anyone awake?” None of the people stirred. “Is there anybody there?”

Her voice sounded thin and reedy, further strengthening her suspicion that this was a big room.

Silence greeted her as she squinted into the darkness.

“Hello?” she tried again, louder this time.

An overwhelming urge to scream bubbled up inside her but she refused to give in to it.

“Can you hear me?” she said, her voice cracking.

She was no longer talking to the shadowy corners of the room, but her companions around the table. Not one of them so much as twitched. She lowered her head and took deep, shuddering breaths, doing her best to calm her racing heart and get her thoughts under control.

Oh God, what is happening to me? Where am I?

Only then did she notice that she was no longer dressed in the last thing she remembered wearing – her favourite blue pullover and black jeans.

This isn’t one of my dresses…

The realisation that someone had stripped her and re-dressed her in this clinging, black cocktail-dress made her stomach lurch and her head spin. She stared in disbelief down at herself. The edging of a frilly black bra she didn’t recognise poked out above the neckline of the low-cut dress; one of those push-up jobs that she usually shied away from because she thought her chest too large and she harboured the notion that such underwear was ‘unsuitable’ attire for a doctor. Her gaze travelled lower and she saw that her feet were bare.

She moaned, a pitiful sound that hung impotently in the air around her. “Please. Why are you doing this?”

Gritting her teeth, she balled her fists and pushed with all her might against the metal handcuffs. She did the same at her feet, ignoring the sharp pain that bloomed in her wrists and ankles.

“Fucker,” she gasped, going slack in the chair.

She tensed up again when a low whirring sound reached her ears. There was movement to her left and she snapped round her head, squinting into the darkness. A man in a wheelchair emerged from the shadows.

“Tut, tut, Kendra, I really didn’t think you were the type of woman to swear under any circumstances.”

Kendra could only stare in disbelief at the man. The closer he got to her, the more familiar he seemed, although for the life of she couldn’t place him.

“Let me go,” she said when he wheeled right up next to her, killing the electrical motor.

“Hello Kendra, you’re looking well. It’s been so long.”

She swivelled sideways in her seat as best she could, glaring at the man.

“Who are you?”

Although as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew. A shadow passed over his face, but a shadow of what, she wondered. Hurt? Anger? The moment passed, and his mask of indifference was firmly in place once more.

“Do you really not remember me?”

She did. Of course she did. There was no mistaking that bright orange hair. It was still just as unruly and coarse, but now he had a receding hairline and a bald-spot to boot.

“Yeah, I remember you,” she said softly.

She neglected to mention that she couldn’t remember his name for the life of her. Unless you counted ‘Ginger Tosser’ as a name.

“So who am I?”

His first name came to her in a flash.

“Jasper…” Carrot.

She bit her lip, not believing she had almost said Carrot.

Her stomach summersaulted and she licked her dry lips. She stared at the skinny, twisted little man in the wheelchair, at the big, watery blue eyes magnified further behind the glasses and the little snub nose that was just plain wrong on a bloke.

Come on, Kendra, bloody think.

She knew she had to answer his question, knew that it was quite possibly the most important question she had ever been asked in her life.

But what’s the bloody answer?

“Yes? Go on.”

It came to her in a rush that was almost physical in its intensity, knocking the breath out of her.

“Jasper Black.”

“Very good. For a moment there I thought you were going to say Carrot. I always hated that particular nickname. Although I don’t recall you ever using it. That ginger-haired tosser of a comedian got right up my nose.”

“Why am I here?”

She marvelled at how calm her voice sounded; it had to be the doctor in her, taking control.

“Ah, yes, the million dollar question, so to speak. Do you not recognise any of your fellow school chums?”

School chums.

Her stomach felt like lead when she looked at the strangers. For the first time she noticed they were all dressed in black, like her. She just knew that they too had been ‘dressed for the occasion’. The two other women, one fat and one thin with an overly large chest, wore black cocktail dresses much like her own. The three men wore crisp, white shirts and black dinner jackets.

A horrible understanding danced just out of reach on the edges of her mind; now that he mentioned it, there was something familiar about them, especially the guy directly opposite her. Something about the straight angle of his hairline and thick, black hair stirred a long buried memory.

Surely it can’t be…

As if the man she was man staring at could read her mind, his head lolled on his neck, accompanied by a guttural moan. He raised his head.

Kendra gasped. His face was older, the jawline heavier, and his features had lost their boyish softness, but there was no mistaking him. This man sat opposite her could be no other than her very first, proper boyfriend, Kevin Hendricks.

”I think it’s safe to say you do recognise him, don’t you Kendra? Kevin Hendricks, your first love. The man you chose over me.”

Kendra stared in dumb awe at Kevin. He squinted at her across the shiny table, his big, puppy-dog brown eyes bleary, unfocused and confused.

“Kendra? The Kendra? Where am I? What’s going on?” he slurred.

“Kevin. I don’t know what’s going on, I’ve just woken up, like you. Jasper Black took us.”

“What? Who? I don’t –“

“Silence!”

Kendra flinched, but she still felt a momentary stab of victory. Her gut told her that Jasper was going to test Kevin with the whole, ‘what’s my name’ thing, and God only help him if he hadn’t been lucky enough to remember, like she had managed to do.

“There are a few things we need to get straight here. I call the shots, not you. And this means only speaking when I say you can. This is my house, my rules. And this is my game.”

“Game? What do you mean, game?” Kendra said, before she could stop herself.

Apparently, Kevin was at the stage she had been at a few minutes ago; the, ‘tugging at my metal-cuffs until I hurt myself’ stage.

“Yeah, what the fuck is this? When you let me out of these cuffs I’m going to ring your scrawny little neck.”

Kendra winced.

“My dear man, you’ll soon learn to watch your tongue.”

Kendra watched Jasper reach into the gap between his thigh and the arm of the wheelchair. He pulled out a little black box and her heart lurched in terror. She had no idea what it was, but whatever it was, she sure as shit knew it wasn’t going to be anything good.

Her worst suspicions were confirmed when Kevin began to convulse in his metal chair, his mouth twisted open in a silent scream of blatant agony.

The convulsions lasted less than three seconds, then he was still and floppy.

“Don’t look so alarmed, sweet Kendra, it was only a little shock. But believe me, I could make it much stronger.” Jasper swivelled his head to look at Kevin and raised his voice: “I could fry your brains right out of your head. But then, it wouldn’t make much difference, would it Kevin, seeing as you manage to do that all by yourself by drinking a litre of whisky every day.”

”Leave him alone!” Kendra said, shaking almost as violently as Kevin had been.

”What’s the matter, Kendra? Do you still hold a torch for Kevin, even after all these years? Even after two failed marriages behind you. Do you finally actually want to make babies?”

“Fuck you.”

The words slipped out, she couldn’t help it. Despite everything that was happening to her right then, that was personal.

Yeah, well, he’s struck a nerve, hasn’t he? You messed up two perfectly good marriages because you said you never wanted kids. And now you do, don’t you?

A tear slid down her cheek, and she hated herself for it.

”Leave her alone,” Kevin said.

”Oh, how touching. The torch still burns bright, I see.”

A bitter, humourless laugh escaped her lips, and she wasn’t sure why. None of this was remotely funny.

“Don’t you laugh at me,” Jasper said, his big blue eyes like ice. “Don’t you ever bloody laugh at me.”

She locked eyes with his and the harsh cackle died on her lips. She was saved from having to formulate a reply when a groaning noise caught all of their attention.

“About time, too,” Jasper said. “It looks like Jean is waking up. The others should soon come round as well, then we can get started with the games.”

Kendra and Kevin locked eyes over the table and her heart gave a lurch. Momentarily, she was transported back to being sixteen years old and in love. The inappropriate flutter disappeared as soon as it had arrived and all that was left was the grim situation she now found herself in.

CHAPTER THREE

Craig Ellison’s head throbbed like a motherfucker. He felt like shit – every bone in his body ached and his guts cramped.

He refused to open his eyes, too scared to see what kind of dog he had picked up last night. Last weekend, he had woken up with a fucking porker next to him in the bed. He hated porkers. In the nightclub, he remembered her as a curvy, blonde bombshell, but in the light of morning, she had looked like the fucking Michelin Man.

But the strange thing was, he had no memory of going out last night. Usually when he woke up feeling like this, the night before would come back to him in fragments and he would lie there in bed, piecing together the disjointed memories of the jigsaw puzzle that made up the events of the previous night…

No memories swamped his brain. Nothing. Just a big, fat blank. And now he came to think of it, he realised he wasn’t even lying down. A bad feeling churned in his already upset guts, and his eyes snapped open.

Promptly, he threw up. Waves of nausea racked his body, leaving him trembling violently in their wake. He continued to heave up the contents of his stomach, even if all that was left was acid. The vomit scorched his chest and thighs, quickly turning cold and damp. Only dimly was he aware that he couldn’t move.

What in the hell is wrong with me?

The ringing in his ears pierced his brain and he fought to stay conscious.

“…allergic to chloroform,” a voice was saying, drifting to him on the tide of sickness.

Craig shivered hot and cold, trying to place the voice. He couldn’t. He felt himself sinking into oblivion and he struggled to fight it, doing his best to organise his thoughts. With great difficulty, he prised open one eye, ignoring the sharp pain that stabbed right into the centre of his throbbing brain.

What he saw through his half-closed eye defied comprehension.

“What the fuck is going on?” he slurred.

His first thought was that the pricks at work were playing a joke on him to get him back for tying the newest and youngest labourer naked to a lamppost because he hadn’t swept up properly. But somehow this didn’t feel like some laddish prank.

It didn’t feel right at all.

He went to stand up, but all that achieved was to jar his already aching body.

I’m cuffed to a fucking chair? What the fuck?

“Don’t struggle, Craig, you’ll only hurt yourself.”

That same, calm voice. Craig recognised a voice of authority when he heard one, and he swivelled his head to confront the person in charge. He was not expecting to see some shrivelled looking cunt in a fucking wheelchair parked right next to him.

“What is this shit? Who the fuck are you?”

“You mean you don’t recognise me? Take a look around yourself Craig, you’re at a school reunion.”

“What?”

The fog in his brain was clearing with every passing second. For the first time, he looked properly around. He saw he was in a room of indeterminable size due to the fact that the perimeter was swallowed by shadows. A huge spotlight was mounted on the high ceiling, shining down on the big, oval table that he and five others were sat around.

It’s like a fucking stage-set.

He frowned in confusion.

“Who the fuck are all of you?” he barked at the five others who were strapped into metal chairs the same as his own.

None of the fuckers answered him. The woman directly opposite him, a fatty with frizzy, mousy hair, was staring at him with huge, terrified, watery blue eyes.

“Oi, Fatso, you deaf? I asked you what was going on.”

“Don’t speak to her like that.”

Craig’s head snapped round at the sound of the feminine voice. She was strapped into a chair to his left, and a deeply buried memory stirred.

School reunion? Did I go to school with these fuckwits?

“And who the fuck are you when you’re at home?”

“Kendra. Kendra Ball. And you’re Craig.”

“You know me?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. How could I ever forget such a charmer?”

He stared hard at her.

Kendra Ball.

The long-forgotten memory was now there in all its glory. Oh yeah, he remembered her alright, he’d had quite the soft-spot for her way back when, but the stuck-up bitch wouldn’t have anything to do with him. She’d been sweet on that poof – God, what was his name – Kevin somebody or other.

She’s still as fucking hot as ever.

He let his gaze openly stray to her ample breasts in the clinging cocktail dress, taking in her luscious curves.

“And how could I ever forget those tits? Now I’ll ask one more time for those that are hard of hearing, what the fuck is going on here?”

“You’re a pig,” Kendra said softly.

A flash of rage twisted in Craig’s chest – no one spoke to him like that, especially not a woman.

“When I get out of this chair, bitch, I’m gonna give you a slap.”

“Don’t you dare talk to her like that, you fucking scumbag.”

The new voice came from his right, past the fuckwit in the wheelchair and on the right of the groaning, skinny, washed-up slapper with the fake tits.

The man speaking to him looked out of it. He slurred his words and rolled his eyes like he was having difficulty focusing. He also looked familiar. Craig was getting angrier by the second. Nobody fucked with Craig Ellison – he was the one that did the fucking, end of.

“And when I’ve taught this fucking bitch some manners, I’m gonna pound your fucking face in.”

“Enough!” said the tosser in the wheelchair next to him.

Craig’s already sore body was suddenly alive with agony. It consumed him and his teeth clacked together. It hurt too much to even scream and he convulsed helplessly in the grip of unspeakable pain.

The ferocious pain stopped and his body went slack in the chair. It left him stunned, and to his shame, tears rolled down his cheeks. He barely heard the cripple above the ringing in his ears:

“I can give you a little shock anytime I please, Craig, you’ll do well to understand that. Are you going to behave yourself now and watch your tongue?”

He could only groan in reply as he didn’t trust himself to speak. The pain may have gone, but it had left him weak and shaken with a pounding heart.

“Good, I’ll take that as a yes. Now, will you all please be quiet while I explain the rules of Advantage? If you have any questions I’ll be happy to answer them when I’m done.”

Silence followed the cripple’s little speech and Craig’s head rolled on his neck, the fight drained out of him. His vision blurred with the effort of staying conscious, and there were no longer five others round the table, but ten.

He stared at the fat bitch across from him, trying to morph her considerable bulk into one person as he concentrated on what the cripple was saying; even in his sorry state, he knew that everything hinged on him listening. Like the crip said, this was a game. And if there was one thing Craig was good at, it was games. He played dirty, and he always won…

“Advantage is a card game. Each of you draws a card, and the person who draws the highest card sets the challenge for the two players that draw the lowest card. A king is the highest card, and an ace is the lowest. If two or more players draw a card with the same value, then they will re-draw until the players hold different cards. The challenge is decided by the player with the highest card and it can be absolutely anything, so long as it involves both players that hold the two lowest cards. The object is to make the challenge as uncomfortable as possible so that the two players are unable to complete the task, or default on the task. If a player defaults, then they are eliminated from the game. Both players can continue with the game if they complete the task. This process of elimination will determine the winner. Is everybody with me so far?” His question was met by silence, and the man continued. “This is the bit you’re going to love. The winner of Advantage walks away a free man or woman, ten million pounds richer. Are there any questions?”

Craig’s stomach leapt, but this time it wasn’t with nausea. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

“Did you say ten million?” Craig asked slowly, forgetting to be scared.

“Yes, Craig, ten million pounds.”

“What happens to the losers?” Kendra asked.

Craig smirked. Trust her, the fucking do-gooder bitch. He had no intention of losing.

“You’ll find that out as it happens,” the cripple replied. “You can bring the props in now,” he said loudly.

From out of the shadows, a man appeared. He was young-looking, and wearing a pin-striped suit. He looked like some high-powered businessman that worked in London, right down to his immaculate haircut and perfectly-polished shoes. In his arms he carried a variety of objects, none of which made any sense to Craig; there was a claw-head hammer, a rolling-pin and a screw-top bottle of wine. Once the man had silently placed the objects on the centre of the table, he produced a pack of cards from the inside pocket of his jacket and placed them next to the wine.

Who the fuck else is here, watching us, Craig thought as the man withdrew into the shadows once more.

“Are there any questions?” the cripple asked again.

“I have one.”

Craig snapped his head round. It came from the guy on his left who had been silent up until this point. He was dressed in a black dinner-jacket and it suddenly occurred to him that they all were dressed in evening attire, like they were going to some swanky party.

Or a funeral…

“How can we play a game of cards if we’re shackled to these chairs?” the man asked.

Craig stared hard at the man, trying to place him. He looked to be around his age, with thinning blonde hair, weak shoulders and a wide girth. Did he go to school with him as well? He closed his eyes. God, this was all so fucking fucked up.

“Because you won’t be for much longer,” came the reply.

“Why us?”

Craig stared at the fat bitch who had asked the question. Her eyes were red-rimmed from her silent tears and her fat wobbled with her uncontrollable trembling. A wave of disgust stirred in his guts; God, how he hated fatties.

Jasper stared at the woman for a few seconds before replying. “Because you owe me. You all owe me. Now, when the bell sounds you must start the game. Every time the bell sounds, you must take your seat and play a fresh game. Until that point, you may talk amongst yourselves and get to know each other a little better. I think your time alone should sufficiently answer all your questions. You will take it in turns to be dealer, it doesn’t matter who starts.” The cripple reversed away from the table. “Let the games commence,” he said, pressing a button on the remote control he kept in his lap.

A loud clanking noise from above made Craig squeal like a girl and he flinched in his chair, his heart pounding. For a second he was convinced he was going to be impaled by one of the metal poles that extended from out of the ceiling and came shooting downwards.

It took him a moment to realise he wasn’t dead, but imprisoned in a cage. As soon as the pole ends touched the concrete floor, the metal cuffs around his wrists and ankles clicked open. He lifted up his arms, not quite believing he was free.

He stood up, feeling like he was in a dream, then promptly fell to the floor, landing on his knees with a nasty smack. His legs weren’t strong enough to support his weight and he began to laugh. Dimly, he was aware of someone telling him to shut up, but he paid them no heed.

The game had started and no matter what, he was going to win.

CHAPTER FOUR

When the cage came down and the cuffs clicked open, Kendra jumped to her feet, her heart racing. The first thing she did was to run to the bars and rattle them. They didn’t budge so much as a millimetre and she bit down the wail of frustration.

Craig Ellison, the bullying pervert that had made her life miserable in school was on his knees, laughing like a loon.

Hysteria and shock, she thought impassively. She could relate.

“Why don’t you just fucking shut up?” a male voice barked.

Kevin. A lump formed in her throat and she stared out between a gap in the bars, trying to compose herself before she was forced to turn round and confront the nightmare situation.

Only then did she notice that the room beyond the cage was lit up.

What is this place?

The space wasn’t as big as she’d first assumed it to be, now that she could see all four walls. The room was barren, windowless, and comprised almost entirely of concrete. There was just the one door, which was shut. Despite the high ceiling, it had the distinct feel of a basement. There was no sign of Jasper, or anyone else beyond the bars. When she glanced heavenwards in a silent prayer, she saw the surveillance camera mounted on the ceiling, pointing down at them.

“I told you to shut it! We need to keep calm,” came Kevin’s voice.

Craig’s laughter stopped as abruptly as it had started. “Who the fuck are you telling to keep calm?”

A heavy thump caused her to spin round. “Stop it!” she gasped in horror.

Unthinkingly, she dived on the scuffling men. Craig had Kevin pinned on his back on the table with his hands around his neck. She tugged at Craig’s forearms, then without warning staggered backwards because Craig had let go.

“Easy there,” said the third man when she went careering into him.

He steadied her, keeping her upright.

“Thanks,” she muttered, trying not to let on how shaken she was. “Kevin’s right, we need to keep calm.”

She managed a thin smile for the unfamiliar man that had stopped her from falling, and gently extracted herself from his comforting, brotherly grip.

“We need to work out why we’re here,” the man said softly. “Although I’d say it’s painfully obvious. I should imagine that we were all cruel to Jasper Black when we were kids, in way or another.”

The six of them stood around uncertainly, looking at each other, their expression flitting between shock, confusion and terror. Kevin rubbed his neck, and glared at Craig like he could happily rip out his heart.

Craig smacked his forehead, and Kendra felt a fresh wave of dislike for the man. Was there really any need for him to be so theatrical?

“Of course. Jasper Black. The Ginger Tosser. The guy whose head I used to flush down the bog.”

“You and me both,” muttered the man next to her.

Craig peered more closely at him. “Wayne? Wayne Drake? You’ve got to be shitting me.”

Instinctively, Kendra stepped away from him as a rush of memories from her teenaged years came flooding back. Wayne had been Craig’s best-friend, and together they had been the biggest pair of loud, bullying shits going. Kendra could have sworn that she had seen kindness and concern in the man’s eyes when he had prevented her from falling, but she must have been mistaken. Wayne Drake was a wanker.

“I don’t give a toss who you all are, I just want to get the fuck out of here,” said the hard-faced, skinny blonde with the boob job.

Kendra looked at her more closely. She had to have gone to school with her, but she couldn’t place her. “Maybe we all should introduce ourselves properly. Maybe, if we can just understand why we’re here and what Jasper Black wants from us, we can find a solution.”

“A solution?” spat the blonde. “You know what you can do with your solutions, you stupid fucking stuck-up bitch. He’s getting revenge on us, isn’t he?”

Kendra stared at her, a rush of recognition slamming into her brain.

Maria Walker. The most popular girl in class. And the biggest bitch.

“I think it’s a fine idea,” Kevin said.

Kendra managed a thin smile for him, pathetically grateful for the emotional backup.

“Well you would, wouldn’t you?” Craig said. “Tell me mate, did you ever get into the ice-queen’s knickers?”

Kevin’s jaw set into a hard line. “I’m warning you.”

“Is that a threat, big man? Wanna come over here and say it?”

“Please!” Wayne said, raising his hands in the air. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. Kendra’s right, we need to talk about this, it’s our only chance.”

“Our only chance of what?” Maria snapped. “Being the playthings of some sick and twisted arsehole from school that’s out for revenge?”

“Oh God, I can’t take this anymore.”

Everyone turned to look at the fat woman who had thus far stood there in silence. Behind her glasses, her red-rimmed eyes were wild. She lunged for the bars and shook them so hard the flab on her upper-arms swung back and forth like a pendulum.

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up, fatso, your wailing isn’t helping anything,” Craig said.

An image of slapping Craig Ellison across the face flared in Kendra’s mind, but she resisted the urge.

“It’s alright, Jean, we’ll find a way through this,” Wayne said, going up to her and placing his hands on her heaving shoulders.

“Jean? You’re having a laugh, right? Look at the fucking state of you,” Craig said, the disdain in his voice all too obvious.

Of course. Mean Jean.

She knew there was something familiar about the fat woman, and now she was able to place her. Jean Glover, one time, long-term girlfriend of Craig. She and Maria had been as thick as thieves at school.

Now it’s just her waistline that’s thick.

She shuddered at her own bitchiness; it really wasn’t like her at all.

Wayne comforted the sobbing woman as everyone else stood awkwardly around. Her heart twisted into a painful knot in her chest when a bell sounded, as loud as a fire-alarm. The shock of it made her scream, but the ear-splitting noise drowned her out. Her hands flew up to protect her ears, the same as everyone else in the cage.

The noise cut out after less than five seconds, leaving a dull ringing in her ears.

“Please take your seats,” a voice blared over an unseen speaker. Jasper’s voice. “Decide amongst yourselves who will be dealer. Play must commence in under a minute otherwise you will be punished.”

Jasper’s voice cut out and all of them looked frantically around, including Kendra. God only knew what she was searching for, what any of them were searching for. There was no escape route.

“What the fuck does he mean, you will all be punished?” Maria, the hard-faced blonde said.

“I don’t know and I’m not about to find out,” Kendra replied, taking her seat once more.

If nothing else, Kendra considered herself to be a practical woman. She would act if and when the opportunity presented itself. She knew perfectly well when someone had the upper-hand over her; when it was pointless to protest.

And speaking of hands, there was a game that they had to play. She sat up in her seat and stretched out for the cards.

“Allow me, sweetheart,” Craig said, beating her to it, then sitting down in his original seat next to hers.

“Are you crazy?” Maria said to Craig. “Are you forgetting that you just got fucking electrocuted in that fucking seat?”

“Yeah, my memory ain’t that short,” Craig said, shuffling the cards with an expert’s flair.

“I don’t want to sit down,” Jean complained.

Wayne was still comforting her, his gaze flitting nervously from the fat woman to his seat. “I think perhaps we should,” he said softly.

“Will you three please just sit,” Kendra said. “I think we should play along until we understand fully what we’re up against.”

“I don’t like being someone’s plaything,” Kevin said through gritted teeth.

“Kevin, please, now is not the time to rebel.”

She locked eyes with her former flame, her heart slamming in her chest. She held her breath as a look flashed across his eyes, one she wasn’t quite able to read.

Defeat, she thought with a shaky sigh of relief as he took his seat opposite her.

“I’m not sitting,” Jean sobbed.

“You have to,” Kendra said.

Jasper’s voice suddenly filled the room, blaring out over the unseen speakers and making all of them flinch: “Ten, nine, eight, seven…”

“Fuck this,” Wayne said, abandoning Jean and sitting down to Kendra’s left.

By the time Jasper got to one, Jean was still standing. The voice cut out, and all was silent. No one spoke, or even moved. Jean just stood there, her eyes wide and glazed, swaying on the spot. A movement caused Kendra’s head to swivel round to the door she had spotted earlier. A man strode into the room, someone she didn’t recognise. He was dressed in black jeans and a plain black t-shirt, and over his head he wore a balaclava.

Her insides shrivelled when she saw he was holding a gun. Kendra knew next to nothing about guns, but it was long and thin, and she guessed it was a rifle.

A hunting gun, she thought with a shudder. And we’re the prey.

The well-built man shouldered the weapon, and pointed it at Jean. Without ceremony, he fired the gun. It happened so fast, Kendra barely had time to comprehend what had happened. Her ears rang from the loudness of the blast in the confined space as she stared in disbelief at the dead woman on the ground.

She blinked, her entire body numb and heavy with shock. Accompanied by a brief eruption of blood, Jean had crumpled to the floor without a sound. Now she lay unmoving on her back, her black dress rucked up around her flabby thighs. One fat leg was twisted awkwardly at the knee and one arm was flung over her head as if she were sleeping. Blood seeped around her, an ever-growing puddle that fanned out around her head and torso.

Shot in the heart, Kendra thought distantly. A direct shot, judging from the perfect little hole over her heart…

The fact that Jean probably felt only the briefest flash of agony in the nanosecond before her heart exploded provided little comfort. Her head swam and she could only stare at the dead woman, her jaw slack. Jean’s eyes were still open, wide with surprise.

By the time Kendra wrenched her gaze away from the macabre spectacle, the man that had shot her had disappeared. No one moved or spoke, and Kendra flinched when Jasper’s voice flooded the room once more:

“This is what happens when you don’t play by my rules, and I hope that Jean’s untimely demise will serve as a warning to the rest of you. You have one minute to deal.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“It’s a good thing his face was hidden, right? It means we’re supposed to live?” Maria said in a small voice.

“Try telling that to Jean,” Craig said, picking up the cards in front of him on the table and proceeding to give them a shuffle.

Cheating had occurred to him – it would be relatively easy to make sure the cards were stacked in his favour – but that damn camera was watching him. Craig figured he would probably get away with it, but he wasn’t prepared to take that risk, less he ended up like Jean. The woman’s death left him unmoved, he had no sympathy for her whatsoever. The silly cow would still be alive if she had just done what she was supposed to, it was her own dopey fault. He gazed disdainfully over at the dead woman.

Jesus Christ, what a fucking porker, I can’t believe I used to fuck that when I was fifteen...

With all the finesse of a Black Jack dealer in Vegas – all those years of playing Poker in his local of a Wednesday night had paid off – he skimmed the cards across the table, one to each of them.

“You’re a bastard,” Kendra said softly.

Her words angered him, but he tried not to let it show. “Just playing the game, baby.”

Kendra shook her head in obvious disgust. Kevin and Wayne just looked shell-shocked, the drippy, pathetic bastards. They really needed to man up if they wanted to live.

Let’s hope they don’t, ‘cause I ain’t got no intention of losing.

Kendra stared at the card in front of her like it was a Cobra about to strike. No one made a move to pick up their card, apart from Craig.

Queen of hearts. Not too shabby.

He smirked at his card, holding it so the others couldn’t see.

Let the fucker’s sweat.

“Let’s all do it on the count of three,” Kevin said. The other three nodded. “One, two, three.”

Each of them turned over their card, laying it face-up in front of them on the table. Craig quickly scanned the revealed cards, his heart sinking.

I don’t fucking believe it.

Kendra had a fucking king. Un-fucking-believable. Still, at least he didn’t have to play this time.

“Looks like it’s me and you,” Wayne said to Maria.

Wayne held a two of hearts and Maria a three of diamonds. Kevin was in the clear with a joker.

Maria’s tan looked even more orange and fake as the colour drained from her face. “What will we have to do?”

“Whatever you’re told to do, sweet-cheeks. I’m sure even a washed-up old slut like you can grasp that concept, or did they fill your brain with silicone to match your tits?”

“Oi, watch yourself,” Kevin said, eyes blazing.

Craig ignored him and smirked at the dumb slapper, vaguely irked that Kendra had completely blanked his witty little comment.

“Relax Maria,” Kendra said, “I’ve got the king, you don’t have to worry.”

Craig rolled his eyes. The stupid twats were going to drag this arsehole game out forever if they were going to pussy-foot around it.

Go big or go home. They ain’t gonna know what’s hit them when it’s my turn.

“Don’t worry, Maria,” Wayne was saying, “if we all pull together and make the tasks as painless as possible, we might just get through this.”

Craig couldn’t believe what a fucking loser Wayne had become. He used to be up for a laugh, he used to be alright.

“Well, that ain’t gonna work now, is it?” he said, unable to stop himself. “We’ll be here for fucking ever if we do that. Someone has to win, don’t they?”

Who gives a fuck about him, anyway, Craig decided. He figured it would just make what he had to do all the easier.

“For God’s sake, Craig, we have to look out for each other, help each other.”

“Says you,” Craig scoffed

“I’ve changed. I’m not the person I used to be.”

“Bollocks, no one changes, not really.”

“I have. I was a real jerk in school. I’m sorry for the way I treated Jasper and I regret the way I used to carry on.”

“You’re just saying that because of that,” Craig said, gesturing to the camera mounted on the ceiling with the faintest flick of his head. Christ, this guy’s holier-than-thou attitude was really beginning to get on his wick.

“Stop, we don’t have time for this,” Kendra butted in. “We have a game to play, and I have to set a task before anyone else is bloody well shot. Wayne, Maria, I want you to stand up and shake hands.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Craig said, rolling his eyes to the heavens.

“You need to watch your step mate, I’ve had just about enough of you,” Kevin said.

Craig regarded him, deciding that he looked really pissed.  “Why don’t you take that hammer and shove it up your arse?” he said casually.

“You’d better fucking hope it’s not me with the highest card, because I might just make you do that.”

Craig laughed. “That’s the spirit, mate. At least then one of us might get out of here alive.”

“No one else is going to die,” Kendra said firmly. “We can’t let that happen.”

For a quack, Craig figured she was really bloody stupid. I’m not going to be the one doing the dying, that’s for sure.

Craig watched as Wayne and Maria met halfway behind Kevin and solemnly shook hands, after which they sat back down again.

Unbelievable, he thought for the umpteenth time, shaking his head.

The ear-splitting shriek of the bell cut through the quiet of the room, making him flinch. It stopped after a few seconds and everyone sat there stunned.

“One minute to deal, folks,” Craig said. “Who’s gonna do the honours because I don’t fancy being shot?”

Just when he thought no one was going to make a move to pick up the cards, Kevin stood up and snatched them before sitting down again. Craig watched in disdain as he shuffled them awkwardly – he’d seen ten-year-old girls handle a deck better.

Kevin’s hand trembled as he dealt and when Craig claimed the card that slid towards him, he was gripped by a spasm of doubt.

This shit is hardcore.

Fleetingly, he harboured thoughts of going soft. Maybe the others were right, maybe, if they kept the tasks ‘safe’ over a period of time, the ginger tosser would get bored and let them go.

Nah, bollocks to that, like fuck he will. In it to win it, remember?

In that moment, Craig changed his mind; he decided he was going to cheat, camera be damned. It would be reasonably easy to ‘float’ his card to the top of the deck while he was shuffling. Why the hell not, he had gotten away with it a hundred times before. He was only going to be shot by some faceless cunt anyway if Kevin chucked a shitty task his way that was impossible to complete. Yep, these fuckers were in for a shock when he got a king, and next time he dealt he would make damn sure that he did.

Come on then, bring it on, I ain’t dying today.

Taking a deep breath, Craig turned over his card.

CHAPTER SIX

Kendra stared at the card laying face-down in front of her on the table, scared out of her mind. She was beyond terrified, they were at the mercy of a lunatic and there was no unity. Craig was out of control, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would royally screw them over as soon as he was able.

The stupid bastard is going to get us all killed.

Just as she was about to turn over her card, Kevin leapt up from his seat and grabbed the bottle of red wine.

“What are you doing? You can’t touch the props,” Maria said.

“Who says?” Kevin replied. “Jasper never said anything about that.”

He proceeded to unscrew the lid and took a big chug of wine with all four of them staring at him.

“What? Haven’t you ever seen an alcoholic before?”

Craig laughed and Kendra’s heart sank. This was going from bad to worse, everything was spiralling out of control. Now Kevin could officially join the ranks of instability along with Craig.

“Kevin, please, I really think you should keep a clear head,” she pleaded, knowing it was pointless.

Kevin let out a hollow laugh. “A clear head? It’s been a long while since I had one of them.”

Kendra’s heart sank to rock-bottom. How could things get so bad, so quickly?

Just you wait until Craig gets the king…

An icy sweat broke out on her back and she closed her eyes, pushing down the wave of panic.

It didn’t bear thinking about.

But you have to think about it because it is inevitable that it will happen at some point.

“Are we going to turn these over, or not?” Wayne was saying, snapping her out of her dire musings.

Craig, of course, had already turned over his and was cradling the card to his chest. Stealing herself, she turned over her card the same time as the other three.

Maria began to sob and Kevin threw back his head and laughed. After that, he picked up the wine bottle and chugged down half of it.

Kendra took in everyone’s cards apart from Craig’s, who was still keeping his hidden. There was a nasty little smirk on his face which she didn’t like one bit.

I’m in the clear, she thought with an entirely selfish shudder of relief. Wayne had an ace, so he was definitely playing, and Maria had a two of diamonds. She had a seven of spades, and Kevin had a six of hearts.

But what does Craig have?

“A king of clubs,” Craig said proudly, laying his card face-up the table.

Kendra’s blood ran cold.

“This can’t be happening,” Maria said, her eyes wide in her orange face.

“But it is happening,” Craig reminded her. “So in all of our interests, I suggest that we get on with it. Wayne and Maria, seeing as you two used to be an item back in school, I’d like you both to strip naked and indulge in a little fucky-fucky. And when you’ve done that, Maria, I’d like you to take that rolling-pin and shove it all the way up Wayne’s arse.”

Kevin jumped to his feet, his eyes blazing and his jaw set. “You piece of fucking shit. You cunt.”

Kendra eyed Kevin’s clenched fists with some alarm – if Kevin didn’t play by the rules, then they’d likely all be shot. She had to at least try and reason with Craig, surely he couldn’t be that evil, deep down?

“Come on, Craig, you don’t have to do it this way. Please, we can get through this if we just pull together…”

“Fuck that,” Craig said, cutting her down. “Only one person can win, don’t you get it?”

Kevin took a step towards him. “You sadistic, fucking scum-bag…”

“Kevin, please, that isn’t helping,” Kendra said.

“There’s only one more cunt that’s going to die round here.”

“It’s a bit late for that, wouldn’t you say? Jean’s already dead, and only one of us is going to walk out of here alive. This shit is hardcore, it’s to the fucking death.” Craig turned to address Wayne. “Would you rather I was a twat like Kendra and dragged this out forever, or would you rather a clean shot in the heart? You’re supposed to decline the fucking challenge, and bow out gracefully.”

“You’re fucking enjoying this,” Maria said. “If you were decent, you’d either make the task really easy or totally impossible as a way to get us shot. You’re just out to fucking humiliate us. So fuck you.”

“No, baby,” Craig retorted. “It’s you that’s gonna get fucked.”

Kendra gasped when Kevin flew for Craig and punched him in the face.

That’s that, then. We’re all dead, game over.

Craig cupped his nose in his hands, his blood splashing on the concrete floor. “You’ll fucking regret that,” he muttered.

Kendra stared over at the door, waiting for the man with the gun to come back and put them all out of their misery.

He didn’t appear. Suddenly, Jasper’s voice boomed out over the speakers, accompanied by a tinny, distorted wailing that hurt her ears:

“This is your last chance, folks. Stop messing around and play the game. If play doesn’t commence in under a minute, you will all experience more pain than any of you could ever have dreamed possible.”

For a moment they all stood there in silence, staring helplessly at each other. Wayne was the one to break the silence.

“What do you say, Maria, shall we do the right thing?”

“I suppose getting fucked is better than getting shot.”

“You gonna take one for the team, Wayne?” Craig smirked.

“Yeah, you sick fuck, I am. Just you wait ‘til the tables are turned.”

Kendra winced, expecting Craig to come back with some wise-ass retort, but all he did was smirk.

Wayne extended his hand to Maria. “Shall we?”

“Yeah, let’s do this thing,” she said, accepting his offered hand.

Kendra watched them, her heart in her throat.

I can’t believe this is happening…

In deathly silence, the two of them undressed. Kendra squirmed in embarrassment, her gaze flitting to Craig. His expression was unreadable, his body still.

Wayne and Maria stood there naked, looking scared and unsure of themselves. Wayne did not look good naked; his paunch appeared even bigger without clothes and his skin was the colour of uncooked dough. His shoulders were narrow and hairy, his arse saggy. Maria looked like a bronzed goddess next to him, despite the cheap-looking boob-job. Her body didn’t seem as bony without clothes on, the gentle curves of her buttocks youthful and enticing. For some reason the sight of her naked breasts made Kendra feel sad; why would a woman do that to herself? Her skin was tight and thin over the implants, and she wondered if her chest felt as painful as it looked.

Maria walked over to the table and bent over it, burying her face in the crook of her elbow. Wayne just stood there motionless, looking as if he were about to cry.

“Come on, then,” Maria mumbled into her arm. “Get on with it.”

Kendra felt like she shouldn’t be looking, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away. Wayne went to her, his shrivelled, flaccid cock slapping against his thighs with each step.

“I can’t,” he said, trying to shove his limp dick between her spread legs.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she said, spinning round.

She sunk to her knees and unceremoniously sucked down his cock, her head bobbing up and down on his penis like a pro. The slurping noises her mouth made echoed in the silence of the room, and a tear of humiliation slid down Kendra’s cheek on their behalf.

Kendra flinched when Kevin gently laid a hand on her upper-arm. She hadn’t realised that they were standing so close; subconsciously they had drifted together, drawing comfort from one another. The very-public blowjob went on for five more excruciating minutes before Wayne stilled her bobbing head with his hands.

“I think I can now,” he said, so softly that Kendra barely heard him.

Maria resumed her position bent over the table and Wayne held onto his now semi-hard cock, guiding it between her legs. There was no mistaking the tears in his eyes as ever so slowly he began to pump in and out of her.

He gained momentum, holding onto her offered-up backside for support. The veins stood out on his neck and the flesh on his unfit body shimmied with the physical exertion.

“You have to come, stud,” Craig called out.

In that moment, Kendra hated him in a flash of such intensity she swayed on the spot. Craig was the monster here, not Jasper. If it weren’t for Craig, then none of them would probably be here in the first place.

Wayne stopped pumping his flabby backside, slumping forward slightly. His white body was sheened in sweat and he hung his head in defeat.

“It’s alright mate, you don’t have to come, you’ve done the task, Craig never originally said anything about coming.”

Wayne stepped away from Maria and her gaze was involuntarily drawn to his flaccid cock; no way was Wayne coming anytime soon.

“Okay then, but let’s not forget that now’s the fun part,” Craig said. “Bend over, big boy, it’s your turn now.”

“You piece of shit,” Kendra muttered under her breath, low enough for Craig not to hear.

“You got that right,” Kevin muttered behind her. “The fucker’s got it coming.”

“I won’t go in deep,” Maria was saying. “I’ll try not to hurt you.”

Try not to hurt him? Kendra thought in disbelief. Was she serious?

Maria held onto the rolling-pin and Kendra shuddered. This was disgusting. Craig was disgusting. She eyed the rolling-pin in horror; it had a handle at each end about an inch around and two inches long, and the rolling pin itself was twice the width and length of an average penis. The main part of that rolling-pin inserted into a rectum would do a lot of damage; Wayne would undoubtedly need stitches when Maria was through.

“Just do it,” Wayne said, offering up his arse in the same manner that Maria had just a few minutes before.

Craig threw back his head and laughed. “Shove it in as hard as you can, Maria.”

In a flash, Kevin was on him, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket. The two men were almost exactly the same height, and the most ridiculous image of them kissing slammed into her brain.

“You’d better watch your mouth, sunshine,” Kevin spat.

“Or what, fucktard?”

“If I get the highest card next round, you’re gonna wish you’d never been born.”

“Halle-fucking-lujah, praise the Lord. At last, the stupid prick gets the concept of the game. There’s hope for him yet.”

“Please!” Kendra and Maria said in unison.

Kevin let go of Craig and he staggered backwards, sniffing and wiping his bleeding nose on his sleeve.

Lightly, Kendra touched Kevin’s arm. “We need to keep it together.”

Kevin managed a ghost of a smile and her heart twisted in her chest; oh, how much she had loved that smile once, all those years ago.

Wayne grunted, drawing her attention back to the foul spectacle. Maria had inserted the first two inches of the rolling-pin handle into his arsehole. It stuck obscenely out of his backside with Maria holding on to the length of the rolling-pin.

“If you recall, I did say, all the way up Wayne’s arse, not, you can just insert the little handle.”

“Hey, that’s far enough,” Kendra said.

“The rules are the rules, baby,” Craig said, still cradling his nose. “I didn’t make them.”

“It won’t go in any further,” Maria said.

Wayne twisted his head round to look at her. “You have to try. I can take it.”

Kendra admired his resolve as he nodded reassuringly at Maria through the tears.

I really do actually think he has changed. He seems like such a nice man, now. And that fact made what was happening to him seem all the worse.

“Okay, then. I really am sorry, Wayne.”

Maria’s hard face looked even harder as she held onto the rolling-pin with two hands and braced her hip against the handle.

Then she shoved forward.

Wayne let out an almighty, inhuman sounding howl. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the table edge. He continued to pant and scream, his face now a violent shade of purple.

Not even Craig laughed. In fact, he looked shit-scared.

Blood gushed from Wayne’s rectum, pouring over the rolling-pin in Maria’s hands and pattering on the concrete floor.

“Jesus,” Kevin said.

Maria stared down at her hands with wide eyes, then she collapsed. She went down like she was boneless, crumpling like an empty sack. Kevin lurched forward, but not quick enough.

“I think she banged her head on the ground,” he said as he crouched down next to her.

Kendra took a deep breath, composing herself. The blood didn’t bother her – she was a doctor, after all – but she was concerned about Wayne’s torn rectum. If they were here for too long and septicaemia set in, he would be as good as dead without medical attention.

“Don’t let Maria move her head,” she instructed Kevin, before turning her attention to Wayne. “Keep still, I’m going to help you. Trust me, I’m a doctor.”

It sounded like Wayne laughed, although it could have easily been a grunt of agony. “That’s what they all say.”

The rolling-pin was still sticking out of his arse, and ignoring the blood, Kendra firmly wrapped her hands around it. His rectum had gone into spasm around the offending object and the blood continued to pump.

“Would somebody chuck his shirt over?” she asked.

Craig made no move to help so Kevin got to his feet and reached for the shirt, handing it to Kendra.

“Wayne? I know it hurts, but you have to lie down on the ground on your side. Can you do that for me?”

“I think so.”

She grabbed him under his meaty, sweaty armpits, helping him onto his knees, and then his side. She crouched down next to him, staring intently at his arse.

“This will only hurt for a moment,” she said, pulling out the rolling-pin with one assertive tug.

Wayne squealed like a pig being slaughtered and his body convulsed, his back arching. Grabbing the shirt, she pressed it hard against his ripped anus. Instantly, the white shirt was soaked through with red.

“How’s Maria?” She asked Kevin over her shoulder.

Maria was lying directly behind her and as if on cue, she groaned softly.

“Coming round, I think. Hey there,” Kevin said softly. “How ya doing?”

She mumbled something that Kendra didn’t catch, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank God she wasn’t knocked out.

“Are you happy now?” she snapped at Craig. “Is this what you wanted?”

Craig swayed slightly on the spot, the colour drained from his face. “I didn’t think the stupid cunts would actually do it. They were supposed to take a fucking bullet in the heart for their own fucking sakes.”

Doubt twisted in her guts. Did he have a point? Was Craig the only person here with his head screwed on straight?

No, he’s a vicious, vindictive piece of shit, what am I thinking?

The bell sounded just as she opened her mouth to speak, effectively silencing her retort.

“You have got to be shitting me,” Kevin screamed, giving voice to her own thoughts, his words drowned out by the ringing bell.

The game was far from over.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Craig was shaken. Behind the show of bravado, he was bricking it. Silently, he watched Kendra and Kevin tending to the injured; to the inevitable casualties of the game.

Better them than me.

Showing weakness at this stage was as good as signing his own death warrant, he had to keep it together. So long as he kept the position of dealer, everything was going to be just fine.

It wasn’t like he actually wanted to kill anyone, but what bloody choice did he have?

You can do this. You have to.

“Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted?”

Craig looked blankly at Kendra, who was leaning over Wayne and practically shoving a shirt up his bleeding arsehole.

“I didn’t think the stupid cunts would actually do it. They were supposed to take a fucking bullet in the heart for their own fucking sakes,” he said in a daze.

Kendra looked uncertain for a moment – had he finally got through to her? No, that flicker of doubt was gone, and her customary look of disgust that she reserved only for him was apparently back.

She opened her mouth to speak, and that deafening bell rang out.

Time to sit down and play.

“You have got to be shitting me,” Kevin screamed, his voice barely audible above the ringing.

The noise cut out after a few seconds, followed by Jasper’s voice over the speakers, and Craig flinched in surprise.

“Ladies and gentlemen and injured parties, please take your seats to resume play. Failure to do so will result in mass punishment. Craig, the camera sees all. As the last time you dealt you stacked the cards in your favour, you are no longer permitted to deal. Your failure to abide by the rules will go unchecked this time. Please resume play.”

Inside, Craig withered and died.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I am fucking screwed.

“You piece of fucking shit,” Kevin said, scrambling to his feet.

Craig braced himself. His still-bleeding nose felt tight and throbbed like merry fuck, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t broken.

Well, me thinks that’s about to fucking change…

“Don’t, Kevin, what’s the point? You have to help me get Wayne seated.”

Wayne sobbed like a girl. Craig could hardly blame him, he sure as fuck wouldn’t fancy sitting on an arsehole in that state either.

Was this guilt or sympathy he was feeling, he wondered?

No, the stupid cunt should’ve taken the fucking bullet.

Maybe. Or maybe I should’ve made the task fucking impossible so the silly twats would be fucking dead by now.

Wayne’s moaning and sobbing drew his attention; he was propped up between Kendra and Kevin, a big, fat, blubbering, lump of flesh.

Maria groaned and sat up, holding her head. Craig’s gaze strayed to her rock-solid tits.

Those things look so much better in porn films, he thought absently, followed by; I should help her up.

But he didn’t move, instead electing to take his place at the table. With a lot of huffing and puffing, Kendra and Kevin managed to get Wayne back in his seat. Kendra helped him into his suit jacket and his white, flabby chest with the smattering of hair peeked dismally out through the gap.

Maria joined them. Somewhere along the way she had thrown on her knee-length, black cocktail dress and had sat down.

“I’ll deal, shall I?” Kevin said, picking up the pack of cards, throwing Craig a foul look as he did so.

Craig did his best to keep his expression neutral, but got the distinct feeling he was failing miserably.

If I’m in the lower two, I am so fucked.

Kevin shuffled then dealt the cards. Craig watched with his heart in his mouth, conscious of the beads of sweat that had broken out on his forehead, one of which trickled into his eye. He wiped it away and warily eyed the card in front of him. Everyone else had turned theirs over, and judging from the way Kevin was laughing, it surely didn’t bode well for him. Kendra also slumped back in her chair, the look of relief on her face all too obvious.

Shit and fucking double fucking shit. I don’t believe it.

Wayne and Maria didn’t look too happy, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was because they held low cards.

They haven’t exactly had the best of times tonight. Especially Wayne…

Even so, his guts churned with an impending sense of doom.

“King of Spades,” Kevin said with glee.

“I have a queen,” Kendra added, placing hers face-up on the table.

How perfectly fucking lovely for you both.

Wayne and Maria placed theirs face-up on the table; Wayne had an ace and Maria a five of hearts.

So who’s going to be Wayne’s playmate? Me or Maria?

“Come on then, Craig, turn yours over,” Kevin said, the delight in his voice painfully obvious. “You’d better hope and fucking pray you have more than five.”

Bracing himself, he turned over his card…

And his heart sank to his bare feet.

Fuck! A two of clubs. That’s it. I am royally fucked.

“Yes!” Kevin shouted, punching the air in glee like a footballer who had just scored a goal. He leered at Craig. “You wanna play, big man? Are you ready?”

No, Craig most certainly was not ready. He returned Kevin’s gaze, hoping he couldn’t see the fact he was fucking quaking.

“What do you say, Wayne? Are you up for this?” Kevin asked.

Wayne didn’t look ready for much of anything. Granted, he hadn’t had the best night, his waxy, shiny complexion was testament to that fact.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Craig said lamely.

“Of course I don’t. I could just get shot instead.”

Craig had nothing to say to that, because Wayne was right.

“So this is what’s going to happen. Craig, you get to fuck Jean, and you get to come. I know, I know, please don’t thank me.”

Kendra looked aghast, which made Craig feel a tiny bit better. Those two getting cozy was really beginning to get on his tits.

“Kevin! There’s no need for that,” Kendra said.

Kevin ignored her, turning his attention to Wayne: “When Craig and Jean are done fucking, I’d like you to deliver ten good blows to Craig’s head with the hammer.”

Craig was horrified. “You complete cunt.”

Kevin threw up his hands. “Hey, it’s up to Wayne, isn’t it? All I said was he had to deliver ten blows with the hammer, I didn’t say that they had to be fatal blows. I’ve thrown everyone a lifeline here. And if Wayne has any sense, he’ll do the right thing.”

Craig realised he was well and truly fucked. As furious as he was, his life depended on Wayne’s goodwill. Maybe Wayne wouldn’t be able to go through with it.

Seems to have turned over a new leaf, that could bode well for me.

But if Wayne didn’t kill him, then the man might as well take a gun to his own head. He doubted very much that Wayne would sacrifice his own life for his, no one was that fucking altruistic…

The bell rang out again in a short, deafening burst. It was play time.

“Get on with it, then,” Kevin said.

The grim reality of his situation hit him smack in the face and the room began to spin.

I can’t do it, I just can’t…

You have to. Don’t do it and you get shot in the head.

If nothing else, Craig was a survivor. Where the was a will, there was a way. The chance of Wayne sparing his life in a moment of altruism or cowardice might have been slim, bit it was still just that; a chance.

So he turned his back on every last one of the fuckers and reached inside his black trousers. Determined, he formed a fist around his soft shaft. He thought of Maria’s body, still fresh in his mind from a few minutes ago. It wasn’t the best body he had ever seen, but neither was it the worst. It was certainly the most recent and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, picturing the surprisingly voluptuous curves of her buttocks, and her waxed snatch.

But then in his mind he was watching her shove that rolling-pin up Wayne’s arse and the beginnings of his erection deflated like a saggy old balloon.

“Fuck’s sake,” he said through gritted teeth. “I don’t think I can do this.”

He tried again, thinking of everything filthy he had ever seen. The dirty mags he kept under his bed. That porn film he had seen a few days ago… It began to work. He wasn’t rock hard, far from it, but he was close.

Close enough?

Maybe…

Before he got to thinking too deeply about what he was doing, he crouched down next to Jean’s corpse. Her black dress was rucked up around her thighs, revealing her cellulite and stretchmarks, and his erection withered a fraction. Steadfastly, he refused to look at the hole in her chest, or at her face.

Pussy’s pussy, right? he thought with renewed determination. Stick it to her quick before I reach the point where I just fucking can’t.

Craig was rapidly approaching that point, so he yanked down the lacy black underwear. It was like relieving an elephant of a pair of knickers, and his erection was in danger of disappearing completely.

He kneeled between the dead woman’s fat legs and grabbed his shrinking cock with his hand, guiding it towards the entrance to her vagina.

To her cold vagina.

He stared at her cunt, long forgotten memories stirring within him. He actually remembered this particular cunt, probably because it was one of the first ones he had ever seen close-up and on a regular basis. He cast his mind back and pictured Jean as she had been seventeen years ago – a vibrant, sexy, skinny girl of sixteen.

Amazingly, his erection was coming back. Thank God that one bit of her was still sexy and had remained exactly the same. With one hand parting the lips of her pretty little pussy, and the other wrapped around his cock, he tried to stuff himself inside her dry passage.

But she was too damn dry. He spat on his hand. Better; he was easing in. She wasn’t quite as dry now, and she was as tight as fuck. It didn’t feel bad. No, it didn’t feel bad at all.

Most cunts he had ever had the pleasure of being inside were wet and red-hot, but this one was resolutely dry and lukewarm…

But by no means unpleasant.

Craig closed his eyes, he was building up a nice rhythm, getting into the swing of it. He kept his eyes tightly closed and humped away on top of her. Craig was nothing if not determined. He was a trier, and he was not going to be defeated by some fucking woman. He continued with the job at hand, blocking out everyone and everything.

Oh yeah, I’m fucking getting there.

The beginnings of an orgasm clenched in his lower stomach and tightened in his balls.

Not long now…

With a grunt of pleasure, he thrust out his orgasm. He came in satisfactory, hard jets, filling up the dead woman’s cunt with his come. When he was done, he went slack on top of her and for a blissful moment his mind – and his balls – were empty.

The sound of Kevin’s voice brought him crashing back to reality.

“I truly can’t believe you fucking came. You’re a fucking animal.”

“Thank you,” Craig replied.

He might’ve sounded like his usual, cocky self, but the fear was back tenfold. He looked over at Wayne with his heart in his mouth. His stomach twisted into knots as he regarded his old best friend – his old partner in crime. He was sitting there forlornly, staring down at the hammer. Ever so slowly, Wayne got up.

Craig scrambled to his feet, edging backwards.

“Where you going, Craig?” Kevin called over. “If you don’t do it, you’re going to get shot. You never know, Wayne might spare you.”

“Kevin, for God’s sake, this is hard enough,” Kendra was saying, but Craig barely heard her; his gaze was transfixed on the hammer dangling from Wayne’s hand. Wayne approached him, and he stepped backwards.

“Wayne, mate, you know you’re not a killer, come on, you know you can’t do this. You know this isn’t you.”

Wayne smiled, and it looked bloody awful, like invisible hands were stretching back his lips into a piss-take of a grin. “Who says?”

He raised the hammer and took a step nearer. In that instant, he reminded him of the psycho lunatic from that seventies flick, ‘A Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ – a big, lumbering brute of a man, except without the mask made of skin, and bare-foot in a suit.

The last thing Craig wanted to do was show weakness, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from pressing his back against the bars. Instinct screamed at him to run, but where was he to run to? Round and round this cage like a fucking terrified gerbil?

No. His only option was to just bloody take it. He looked into Wayne’s eyes. They were wide and crazed and bloodshot, the blue of the iris’ watery and glazed.

Craig sunk to his knees and lowered his head, what other fucking choice did he have? He figured that Wayne was less likely to kill him if he was a sitting target. The adrenalin of the chase was more likely to result in murder; it took a colder kind of person to shoot someone in the metaphorical back.

Or to hit someone in the head with a hammer, in Craig’s case.

Craig braced himself for the first blow, his head lowered like a good Christian in church on a Sunday morning.

Sure enough, the first blow came; a gentle donk on the side of his head that rocked him slightly on his knees and barely made his head sway on his neck.

“Come on, Wayne,” Kevin said. “You can do better than that. Craig’s dangerous, he’s going to get us all killed.”

Just shut the fuck up! Craig roared at him in his head. Craig was terrified out of his mind, but beneath the fear, a little spark of hope ignited in his chest.

I don’t think Wayne can do this…

He kept his head lowered, knowing that to show either fear or hope would stir up Wayne’s emotions, and he was painfully aware that an emotional human-being would act irrationally.

After a short interval, the second blow struck Craig on the back of his head. This time it was harder and his head jerked forward slightly, but it was no worse than the frequent times he hit his head on the low door frame of the cupboard under the stairs at his place.

Craig kept his positon, waiting.

Nothing happened.

A loud, clanging noise rang out in the silence of the room, making Craig flinch. When he raised his head, he saw that Wayne had dropped the hammer. He just stood there on the spot, swaying slightly, his eyes glazed.

Elation surged in Craig’ guts, although he did his best to keep his expression neutral.

“Wayne?” Kevin called out from his seat at the table. “What are you doing? Jesus Christ, you have to finish the task.”

Wayne’s face was deathly pale, his forehead beaded with perspiration.

“I don’t feel so good,” he said softly. “I can’t do this.”

Craig still didn’t dare stand up. He’s having a breakdown or something, don’t fucking antagonise him.

From his kneeling position, he watched Wayne take a step towards to the bars and hold onto them, resting his forehead between the gap.

“I can’t do this,” he said to the empty room beyond.

But it wasn’t empty for long.

“For fuck’s sake, Wayne,” Maria screamed. “Pick up the fucking hammer!”

“Do it!” Kevin joined in.

But their warnings fell on deaf ears. The door to the room burst open, and the same masked man appeared with the gun. He took aim and fired. Wayne crumpled to the ground, a geisha of blood exploding out of his back in a theatrical fountain of gore. The man disappeared back through the door, shitting it behind himself.

Maria screamed, and Kevin swore. Kendra was silent and inside, Craig laughed in glee…

That was until Jasper’s voice blared out from the speakers:

“Wayne has failed the task. The player with the next lowest card is required to finish off the task. If that player fails to complete the task, they will be shot.”

Craig absorbed the words, his heart speeding up again in terror.

Fuck. That’s Maria.

His heart sank. Fuck. He was fucked.

Sure enough, as soon as Jasper had said his piece, Maria was standing next to Wayne’s body, leaning down to pick up the hammer.

Craig scrambled to his feet; no doubt whatsoever in his mind that Maria was going to kill him. She held the hammer raised, the hard lines of her face made all the harder by the downcast turn of her mouth and her knitted together eyebrows.

Craig backed away from her, hands raised. “Come on, Maria, we knew each other when we were kids, you’re not going to hurt me, you’re not like that…”

He thought back to the time when they had fucked behind Jean’s back. And now she was going to fuck him all over again, in an entirely different way…

Fuck this.

He lunged for her, going to wrestle the hammer out of her hands. She danced out of reach and he was grappling with thin air. Before he knew it, Kevin was behind him.

“You’re going to get us all killed, you stupid cunt,” he said.

“You think I fucking care about all of you?” he spat, angrily spinning round to face him.

He drew back his arm in preparation to floor him, just as blazing agony exploded in the back of his head. He went down with a hard thump, landing on his knees and toppling forwards. On jelly arms he just about managed to stop his face from smacking into the floor.

Fucking bitch didn’t waste much time…

His train of thought ended in another explosion of pain, and he fell forwards, knocking out his two front teeth. Blood erupted in his mouth and bright light danced in front of his eyes, blinding him to his surroundings. He lay face-down on the concrete, his eyes rolling back in his head. His limbs felt heavy, like an invisible weight was pinning him to the ground.

“Don’t,” he said, but it just came out as a wet gurgle.

The next blow was fatal and smashed in the back of his head, the jagged shards of his skull piercing his brain.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Kendra covered her eyes in horror as Maria delivered the fatal blow. Craig’s arms and legs jerked when the hammer connected with the back of his skull for the final time, and then he was still. Blood oozed from the back of his concave head, his hair matted with brains and thickly oozing blood.

Kendra couldn’t seem to tear her gaze off that patch of matted hair.

“What?” Maria was saying. “I had to, it was him or me.”

Kendra had to forcibly drag her gaze over to the speaking woman. Her brain felt fuzzy, like her head was wrapped in cotton-wool and there was a dull ringing in her ears. Maria was looking at her expectantly, like she was seeking her approval, or something.

“You did the right thing,” Kevin said. “You didn’t have a choice. Better him than you.”

Kendra was silent. This shouldn’t be happening. It should never, ever have come to this.

The bell rang out again in a short burst of deafening noise:

“Please take your seats, this is the penultimate round,” came Jasper’s voice over the loud speaker.

In a daze, Kendra regarded the three dead bodies. The corpses of Wayne, Craig and Jean lay on the ground, testament to their failure.

They shouldn’t be dead, she thought again. We’ve failed. Me, Kevin and Maria, we let this happen. We’re no better than Jasper. We murdered them of our own freewill.

I didn’t. They did.

What does that mean then, she thought bitterly. Does that mean I should kill them before they kill me?

She took her place, avoiding looking at Maria and Kevin. Especially Kevin; as irrational as it was, she felt woefully let-down by him.

“I’ll deal, shall I,” Kevin said, picking up the pack of cards.

Solemnly, he dealt out the deck. All three of them sat there, staring at the red pattern on the back of their cards.

“I guess this is it, then,” Kevin said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” Maria replied.

Kendra didn’t speak; she was still upset with Kevin and couldn’t bare to look at him.

“Kendra? Shall we do it together?”

“I guess so,” she replied, not meeting his gaze.

“We didn’t have a choice,” Kevin said, his voice soft. “We had to do it.”

She raised her eyes to meet his. “No, Kevin, you’re wrong. We always have a choice.”

“Come on, let’s get on with this shit,” Maria said, reaching for her card.

“Wait,” Kendra said, and Maria did, her fingers hovering over her card. “We need to make a pact. No more violence. Can you both do that? This has to end; and it ends now.”

Neither of them answered, and their silence told her everything she needed to know. She closed her eyes for a second, lost in her own misery. Was she prepared to die for the sake of her morality? She liked to believe she was.

I guess I’ll soon find out.

“No one else is going to die, Kendra,” Kevin said.

She heard the lie in his voice and saw it in his eyes. She sighed. “Let’s just do this then, shall we?”

At the same time, all three of them turned over their cards and laid them face-up on the table.

“Looks like I’m it,” Maria said.

Kendra slumped in her chair with her head in her hands. Only too well did she recognise that look in Maria’s eyes. Her or Kevin were as good as dead. Dragging her hands down her cheeks, she eyed her old school acquaintance forlornly.

“Don’t do it, Maria. If we stick together, we can beat this.”

“I’m sorry. I’m really, really, sorry.”

“Maria…” Kevin began, the warning in his voice all too obvious.

“Only one of us is walking out of here alive and I’m sorry but I really want it to be me. Kevin, Kendra, I want you to fight to the death.”

Kendra looked at her aghast. “Now hang on just a minute…”

“No, you hang on, little miss, goody-two-shoes. I’m not fucking dying today. And if you want to live, then I guess you know what you have to do.”

“But we won’t do it, will we Kevin? I meant what I said, this stops right now.”

She glanced at Kevin. He was sitting there, his hands resting atop each other on the table, staring down at his linked thumbs. “Kevin?” she asked quietly, her heart slamming in her chest.

Slowly, he raised his gaze to meet hers and the answer was in his eyes.

“Kevin, no.”

“I’m sorry, Kendra. This is the only way. I promise I’ll make it quick and painless.”

“Fuck you,” Kendra said.

He scraped his chair back across the floor and stood up. Kendra stood up too, grabbing the nearest thing that came to hand which was the near-empty bottle of wine that Kevin had been drinking. She brandished the bottle before her, backing away from him.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

He took a step towards her and she took a step backwards. Maria just watched, her expression blank.

“I loved you so much, all those years ago,” she said softly. “I often thought of you, over the years, especially when my second marriage started to go wrong. I used to ask myself, ‘what would my life had been like if I had stayed with Kevin?’ Plenty of people stay with their childhood sweethearts, don’t they?”

“Don’t do this, Kendra,” he said. “It’s not going to work.”

But there were tears in his eyes as he spoke.

“We can’t let him reduce us to monsters. Surely a bullet in the heart is better than living with the guilt of murder? Are you a murderer, Kevin?”

Their eyes locked, his filled with tears; but whether they were tears of guilt at what he was about to do, or tears because he intended to sacrifice his life for the greater good, she never found out. He opened his mouth to speak, and the bell rang out.

Kendra flinched in surprise and dropped the bottle. It shattered at her feet as her hands flew up to protect her ears. The bell suddenly stopped and she braced herself for Jasper’s voice to come over the speakers.

Instead of the expected voice, the door to the room swung inwards, and in wheeled Jasper. “The final three,” he said as he approached their cage. “How lovely.”

He was followed in by the armed man in the balaclava, who stopped a good distance away over by the door.

Jasper’s wheelchair came all the way up the bars, and instinctively Kendra backed away from him. He grinned at them, his perfect, white teeth so at odds with his sunken eyes and withered body.

“We’ve almost finished, but I’m afraid now that the rules have changed. Now I decide which one of you gets to play God, and I choose Kendra. Kendra, who do you want to die next? Kevin or Maria?”

“That’s not fair!” Maria burst out. “It was my turn, you can’t do this.”                           

“I think you’ll find I can do whatever I want, seeing as it is my game. Do you want to talk about fair? It’s not fair that you fucking cunts made my life miserable at school, it’s not fair that I have been laughed at my entire life and now I’m dying of cancer. That’s not fair. This is my fucking game, my fucking rules, and I feel like switching it up. This is Kendra’s game now.” His gaze swivelled to her and dread tightened in her guts, making her breath hitch. “So I’ll ask one more time, who do you choose? Kevin or Maria?”

The room lurched and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She knew what she had to do, but was she brave enough to do it?

Yes. I’m a good person. I have to.

She snapped open her eyes and stared him right in the face. “I choose myself.”

“Are you stupid, Kendra? I thought you were supposed to be the clever one. Did you hear your name in the choices I gave you? No, you did not. If your second answer is so blatantly stupid, then they will both be shot. So who is it going to be?”

Kendra’s insides flipped. You’re relieved, aren’t you? You’ve shown your altruism, you’ve proved you’re not a murderer. And it’s you that gets to live…

No, that’s not true. I’m not relieved.

Jasper was smiling at her, like he could read her mind. “Quickly, Kendra, before I lose my patience.”

Kendra’s gaze flitted from Kevin to Maria, and back again. Maria was standing now, and they all stood an equal distance from each other, loosely forming the shape of a triangle.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” Kevin said. “I mean, I thought I was going to, but then I realised that I couldn’t go through with it. That’s what I was going to say before the bell sounded. I loved you back then and I think I always have.”

Maria let out a harsh sounding laugh. “He’s fucking lying, surely you can hear that? I’ve been nothing but honest. I don’t want to die and I did what I had to do. At least I’m not a fucking lier, like him.”

“Make your choice, Kendra…” Jasper said.

Kendra hid her face with her hands. I can’t, oh God, I can’t…

You have to.

She had made her choice and lifted her head to look at Maria. “I’m so sorry.”

Maria’s eyes widened and she staggered backwards. “No…” she began, but her protests were cut dead by the bullet that raptured her heart.

The deafening blast echoed in the confined space and Maria crumpled to the ground. The armed man casually re-shouldered his rifle and was still again.

“Not sure I agree with your choice,” Jasper said conversationally, “but hey, it was up to you.” He smiled: “And then there were two.”

“You fucking bastard,” Kevin said. “Why are you doing this?”

Jasper’s smile dropped like lead. “What goes around, comes around, Kevin. It’s just the way the universe works.” He turned his gaze back to Kendra, the smile once more firmly in place. “This is still your game, Kendra, you decide what happens next. If you choose for Kevin to die, you get to walk out of here ten million pounds richer. Or if you chose for Kevin to live, you don’t get the money.”

There was not even the tiniest spark of doubt in her mind when she replied. “Just let us go. It’s over, Jasper.”

“No, it’s not fucking over,” Jasper shouted before going into a severe coughing fit that took almost a full minute to subside. When he looked up, his lips were speckled with flecks of blood and he couldn’t speak without wheezing. “You don’t get it, do you? Why should I suffer alone?”

Trying to hide the fact that her legs were like jelly, she made her way over to the bars and held onto them, looking him directly in his watery blue eyes, magnified by the those same, bottle-top glasses that he had worn during school.

“What did I ever do to you, Jasper?” she asked. “I was nice to you. I am nice.”

“You weren’t nice to me. You pitied me, that isn’t being nice, that’s being patronising. You hated me, just like everyone else did. I fucking loved you, Kendra, and you didn’t even know I existed, you patronising bitch.”

Her mind whirred as she digested what he had just told her. He was unhinged, but he loved her. Was it possible that he still did?

Keep him talking…

“You never told me how you felt, Jasper. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Don’t you dare try to fuck with my head, Kendra. I am a lot of things, but I am not stupid. You loved Kevin and I was the class scapegoat. Try to mess with my head again and I’ll get my friend over by the door to tear you limb from limb. He’s good with his hands as well as a gun.”

Kendra just stared helplessly at him, at a loss of what to say. He was right, he wasn’t stupid, far from it. He was obviously worth a lot of money to arrange for this to happen. Taking a shaky breath, she took her life in her own hands and asked another question:

“What do you do to be so rich?”

He didn’t reply immediately, and she thought that she had blown it. Her plan to just ‘keep him talking’, to try and make him respect her as a human-being now struck her as foolish. She was a doctor, not a fucking hostage negotiator.

“Computers,” he said simply, and her head spun in relief that he had spared her life. For now. “Back in the early noughties, I was one of the leading minds developing computer programmes. Computers are my first and only love. In fact, this game is being streamed as we speak, on a highly exclusive snuff-site.”

“You’ll never get away with this,” Kevin said.

Jasper shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Who cares? I’m a dead man walking anyway. But we’re getting off-track, Kendra, what’s it going to be? Kill Kevin and take the money, or spare his life and forgo the money? Not only that, but by sparing his life, you could be putting your own in danger.”

“The rules keep changing, Jasper, I can’t keep up.”

“Keep up or die, Kendra.”

She did her best to ignore the disgusted little voice in her head that told her she should’ve stood her ground, that she should never have chosen for Maria to die. And then it hit her; she finally realised that she wasn’t getting out of this alive.

As terrified as she was, she also felt as if a burden had been lifted.

“You know what? Do your worst, Jasper, because I’m not playing anymore.”

Jasper’s face fell as surely as a little kid who had been told he wasn’t getting any sweeties. He stuck out his blood-flecked, bottom lip and glowered at her. He turned his attention to Kevin.

“But you’re still playing, aren’t you Kevin? If you rape Kendra, not only do you get to live, you get to walk out of here with the ten million pounds.”

Kendra couldn’t help but roll her eyes – when was he just going to give it up? He was going to kill both of them, no matter what they did.

She turned to look at Kevin… And her blood turned to ice in her veins. He was staring at her, his face pale and his mouth set in a grim line.

“Oh no, Kevin, you can’t be serious.”

“I really do think he is,” Jasper said. “Give her one for me, Kevin, seeing as I can’t anymore. Watching is the second best thing.”

Jasper laughed loudly, which gave way to yet another coughing fit. He was laughing at Kevin’s stupidity, she felt sure of it.

“I’m sorry, Kendra,” he said, taking a step towards her. “I don’t want to die today.”

“Are you really that fucking stupid?” she spat at him. “You’re going to die, anyway, can’t you see that?”

He didn’t, because he took a step towards her. “After all we’ve been through, it’s just sex. I promise I won’t hurt you. Come on, it’s a small price to pay.”

“You fucking idiot, this is a game that we can’t win, no matter what we do.”

“Sorry,” he said as he lunged for her.

She danced out of reach, but as she spun away from him, her feet tangled with Maria’s corpse. She fell backwards, her arms wind-milling in the empty air. The ground rushed up to meet her backside and the air left her lungs in a whoosh. Her legs were twisted awkwardly over Maria’s torso, and she shuddered in disgust.

Kevin was on her in a heartbeat, scooping her up under the armpits and dragging her off of Maria’s corpse. He pushed her roughly down and the back of her head smacked against the concrete floor. His weight crushed down on top of her and the room span. For endless, painful seconds, she couldn’t move; her limbs paralyzed and her hearing drowned out by the ringing in her ears.

His hand snaking up her skirt and grabbing at her knickers brought her round.

“Get off me, you stupid arsehole,” she panted.

He didn’t. Instead, one hand gripped her by the neck and the other fumbled with the fly of his trousers. His weight bore down between her splayed legs. She couldn’t breathe; her head felt unbearably tight and she clawed at his hand round her neck, bucking and writhing as she did so.

Kevin’s face above her was beginning to blur and darken, the ceiling closing in around his head. She panicked, close to passing out. Did he intend to kill her?

Her knickers roughly shoved to one side, she felt the head of his hard cock shoving at her dry vagina, guided by his hand.

Fuck this.

One hand stopped prising at his tight grip and flew out to her side, groping blindly on the concrete.

Yes!

Her fingers curled around a small fragment of glass from the shattered wine bottle. It bit sharply into her palm, but she barely noticed as she swung her arm upwards and round with every last ounce of her failing strength…

Her aim was sure and true, slicing into his neck and severing the carotid artery. Instantly, his grip on her neck loosened and she gasped down air. A fountain of blood erupted from the hole in his neck, showering her in red. His eyes bulged in his head, his mouth agape. Silently, he mouthed something, then slumped forward, crushing her into the ground. Kendra struggled beneath him, bringing up her elbows and knees. She managed to dislodge herself from his dead-weight and she lay on her back panting.

She twisted round to look at him, and his head was swivelled in her direction. His eyes were glassy and wide in surprise, staring right through her.

Dead. Kevin’s dead. I killed Kevin.

She hauled herself onto her hands and knees and threw up. She stared down at the puddle of yellow puke framed by her splayed hands, a great sadness weighing down on her soul.

I’ve failed. I’m a murderer.

“Well done,” came Jasper’s hateful voice. “I didn’t think you had it in you. The customers will have loved that little show. Such a shame that you have to die, I always did like you.”

Kendra Ball died staring at her own vomit. She was shot in the side of the head. A brilliant, white light flared behind her eyes in her ruptured brain, accompanied by the briefest, searing agony.

Everything went black and she landed face-first in the puddle of sick.

CHAPTER NINE

Back in his study, Jasper Black stared at the corkboard with the photographs of Kendra, Kevin, Maria, Craig, Wayne and Jean pinned to it.

He smiled. Too bad, fuckwits. Which one of you cunts is laughing at me now?

He pressed a button on his wheelchair, putting it into reverse, then performed a neat little three-point turn.

On the other side of the vast room was another corkboard. This one also had six photographs pinned to it and he wheeled over to look at.

The sight made him smile. A piece of A4 paper was sellotaped to the top of this corkboard. Written on this piece of paper were the words, ‘Cambridge University Reunion’.

There was a knock at the door, and the same young man that had escorted him to his school reunion joined him in his study.

“The guests have arrived, sir.”

“Are they awake?”

“One of them is coming round. Would you like to be escorted through?”

His stomach flipped in excitement. The school reunion had been so much fun, and he had high hopes for the university reunion too. Briefly, he wondered if any of the cunts from Cambridge would be as altruistic as Kendra and Wayne had been.

Only one way to find to find out.

“Yes, I do believe I would,” he said.

The End.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed ‘School Reunion’. If you did, be sure to check out my author page on Amazon for my other titles. If anyone is interested, Below I have enclosed the first chapter of my novel ‘Djinn’.

Sweet nightmares to you all.

Sam West.

CHAPTER ONE OF ‘DJINN’

Somebody’d had a really evil crap in this cubicle. Pam Wilkins gagged, covering her mouth with the sleeve of her tatty cleaning jumper, careful not to let the yellow rubber glove she was wearing touch her face.

“Fuck,” she groaned, the bile rising and her tongue floating in mouth water.

Shit, she should be used to this. She’d been doing it for almost a year, which was a long time as far as cleaning toilets went. The job could be measured in something like dog years. One month felt like ten years so she figured she should really be used to it by now.

She took a step inside the cubicle of death and the door swung shut behind her. There was no way she was getting trapped in with that stench so she placed her plastic bucket full of cleaning products at the foot of the door to wedge it open.

That’s when the dull glint caught her eye under the door hinge. At first glance she thought it was a discarded copper teapot, but then she saw the shape of the thing was too elongated to be a teapot. She bent over to inspect it more closely. Yes, it was some kind of lamp, instantly making her think of Aladdin and The Lamp.

She picked it up, slowly turning it over in her hands. It was filthy, but under the dirt it looked like it might be made of brass. Were brass lamps worth anything? She didn’t know, but she would google it when she got in. Maybe it would be worth a bob or two on Ebay.

She picked out a yellow dustcloth from her bucket and gave it a little rub.

Smoke began to curl out of the spout.

“What the fuck?” she exclaimed, dropping the lamp.

It clattered to the tiled floor, the smoke continuing to rise. It billowed in the confined space, making her gag and her eyes water.

“What the fuck,” she repeated, coughing and spluttering.

Pam stumbled backwards, staring incredulously at the smoke that now filled the cubicle.

All that smoke, but no fire, she thought, her mind whirring in confusion. How can that be?

The cubicle was thick with smoke. But the strange thing was, not even a curl of it escaped the cubicle, like there was an invisible barrier confining it there.

The smoke seemed to be clearing a little, and now that it was, Pam could make out a figure standing amidst it.

“Shit,” she proclaimed, rubbing her eyes, convinced she was seeing things.

But no, there was definitely somebody standing in the cubicle. A man, no less, judging from the tall, broad-shouldered silhouette.

“What the fuck is this? Where did you come from?”

“From the lamp. You summoned me. I am here to do your bidding.”

“Yeah, and I’m the queen of fucking Sheeba. Did Wayne put you up to this?”

“No.”

Pam shivered. She couldn’t see his face as the smoke still swirled around his head, obscuring his features. How could the bastard breathe in all that smoke? She had pulled her pullover up over her nose and still the smoke felt thick and frightening in her lungs. That aside, it was the voice that got to her. Despite the figure being obviously male, the voice sounded oddly asexual, falling somewhere between masculine and feminine. Not only that, but it didn’t seem to be emanating from the man himself. Like the smoke itself, the lilting voice hung in the air all around them.

It had to be a practical joke, the guy had to have a tape-recorded voice in his pocket to make it sound like that. Or maybe there were speakers hidden in the toilet. Pam hated practical jokes, her life was one big joke enough as it was.

A distant part of her mind warned her that this was real. Who the hell did she think she was? She knew perfectly well she wasn’t even interesting enough to be the butt of a practical joke.

“Now listen here, you fucking psycho, obviously you’ve been loitering in the next door cubicle waiting to pull your little stunt, but I don’t want to play your sick games. I’m walking away, right now, and then I’m going to call the police.”

“Stay, Pam. I can give you everything your mortal heart has ever desired. I can make your every wish come true. I am the Djinn.”

“Fuck off.”

Pam was scared. It wasn’t right. He wasn’t right. How could he stand there in all that smoke and not be fucking dead? And now that the smoke was clearing, why could she still not see his fucking face? It was almost like he didn’t have one.

She turned to leave.

“Wait.”

The quiet command of his voice made her pause.

“Leave me alone,” she said, hating how frightened she sounded.

She remained rooted to the spot, not daring to turn around and face him yet also unable to turn and leave.

“Don’t be scared Pam, you have nothing to fear. I am friend, not foe. If you complete a simple set of tasks I can make all your dreams come true.”

Something compelled her to turn around.

He had stepped out of the cubicle where the smoke was rapidly clearing and stood less than a metre away from her. He was wearing a well cut black suit on his perfectly formed body.

She still couldn’t see his face. She rubbed her eyes, convinced she was losing her mind. But no, his features were a blur, like she was too pissed to focus. Except she wasn’t. It was Monday morning and she was stone cold sober. His hair might have been dark, but it was near impossible to tell. His head seemed to gently shimmer and sparkle, like the reflection off an ocean. It hurt to look at it for too long.

“What kind of fucking mask is that?” she asked, shielding her eyes.

“It is not a mask. Mortals cannot gaze upon my visage, my absolute, perfect beauty would destroy your mind. You would not be able to comprehend it.”

“What are you? Apart from conceited?”

“I am Djinn, the third sapient creature of God. There are humans, angels and those like me, the djinn.”

“You mean a demon, right?”

Pam simply could not believe she was having this conversation. It was ludicrous, she was humouring a psychopath.

Yet as much as she hated to admit it, she believed his every word.

“No Pam, djinn are not demons. Like you humans, we have free will. We can be good, evil, or benevolent.”

“And what are you?”

He didn’t smile, because he didn’t have a face, but she could hear the tease in his voice.

“Why, I am good, of course.”

She shook her head.  She had gone insane, it was the only logical explanation.  It was hardly a surprise, really. All the financial worries, her bullying boyfriend and generally shitty life had led her to this point.

“You’re not real,” she said, closing her eyes, wanting it to be true.

When she opened them again, he was still there. As she knew, deep down, he would be.

“Make a deal with me, Pam. Six wishes in exchange for six simple tasks. You will live a long and perfect life of your choosing, at the end of which, I take your soul.”

“What, so you can torture me for all eternity? I don’t think so.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, Pam. I do not wish to torture you, I wish to save you from hell. Do you really think you’re getting into heaven? With all things you’ve done in your life? Please.”

“How do you know what I’ve done?”

“Because I am not of this world. Because when you rubbed the lamp, I absorbed your memories, your very essence. I know everything. I know about the abortions, the hard drinking, the prostituting yourself.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, that was only like twice. And I only did it ‘cause I was desperate ‘cause the bailiffs were on my case.”

“No matter. It is enough to send you to hell.”

“If all this is true, then what the fuck do you want with my soul?”

“What good is a kingdom with no subjects? The third realm consists of saved souls, and the more souls I save from the eternal torture of hell, the happier I will be.”

“So you’re like, the boss of this place?”

“The collective djinn are. Look, Pam, the politics of the third realm are of little consequence. Do you want to make the deal or not?”

“But why me?”

“Why not? My lamp, or that is, my vessel, had to materialise somewhere. It just happened to be here. I wouldn’t have come out if a good person destined for heaven had found the lamp. I am here to save a soul, and along came you.”

“Along came me,” she repeated wistfully.

Pam’s head ached with the most bizarre encounter of her relatively short life. Six wishes. Oh, the things she could wish for to make her life better. The things she could have and do so she wouldn’t wake up every day in misery…

He closed the gap between them and she shivered when he reached out to touch her arm. He steered her over to the long mirror above the sink and stood behind her.

“Look at yourself, Pam. What do you see?”

Pam concentrated on her own face, ignoring the blurred visage of the man behind her. Pam had had a hard life. All the twenty six years of crap were etched on her prematurely lined, sunken face.

“I see sadness,” she said softly.

“I can take all that away. I can make you happy. I can make you beautiful. I can make you rich. Whatever you want.”

Pam looked at her bloodshot, heavily bagged eyes. At the prematurely grey-streaked, lank, dark hair. At the double chin and hollow cheeks. At the yellow front teeth and the missing eye teeth. She was a mess. A big, fat mess.

She lowered her eyes in disgust. She was repulsive, she would give anything to be pretty.

Even sell her soul.

“Make the deal, Pam. We cannot proceed until you consent. I will make the first offer, and it will count as the first of your six wishes. Ten thousand pounds will appear in your purse if you complete the first of your six tasks.”

His voice or its voice was so soothing, so hypnotic. She couldn’t think straight, her head felt fuzzy like she had just awoken from a deep sleep.

A distant part of her mind warned that she had fallen under a spell. Yet simultaneously she didn’t care.

“What would I have to do for my first task?”

“All you have to do is drink out of the toilet you were about to clean.”

“What?”

“I think you heard me Pam. Six good swallows, and the ten thousand pounds is yours.”

“There’s a fucking floater in it.”

“So?”

“What if I refuse?”

The be-suited shoulders towering over her shrugged. “Then the deal is off. You go back to being the sad, fat, ugly, pathetic excuse for a human being that you are.”

“Hey, that’s harsh.”

“Yes, it is. And I’m giving you this golden opportunity to change your life. Drink the water, Pam. Take control of your own destiny.”

She turned around and stared at the face that wasn’t until it stung her eyes and she was forced to look away.

I can’t believe I’m even contemplating this. I can’t believe this is happening…

When she glanced over at the stall shrouded by the wispiest tendrils of smoke, the porcelain bowl seemed to stare back her.

The mouth water was back again just thinking about it, her tongue curling up at the base.

“What if I do this? What would I have to do for the next one?”

“Each task is on a need to know basis.”

“But what if I do this, and not the next?”

“Then you forfeit everything, including the money for this task, even if you have completed it to my satisfaction. You finish with nothing and the deal is off. You go back to being the fat loser who scrubs toilets for a living and lets her boyfriend beat her.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, thank you. So do we have a deal?”

She hesitated for a second. “What if I get some disease?”

“That’s your choice.”

“Jesus.”

“Oh, come now, Pam. You’ve done worse.”

It was true. She had. But how did he know that?

Because he peered into your mind when you rubbed his lamp, remember?

“Jesus,” she said once more.

Fuck it, he’s right, I have done worse.

She cast her mind back to the time Wayne had made her clean the rim of the toilet bowl with her tongue when she had burnt his dinner. So this would be a walk in the park, right?

Ten grand, she thought. I could sure use ten grand.

In her head she was paying off the back rent and overdue council tax and the payday loan that seemed to have not so much doubled as quadrupled.

“Fuck it,” she said aloud, marching assertively over to the toilet bowl.

“Good girl.”

The smoke had cleared like it had never been. She sunk to her knees, and stared into the bowl. A turd looked back up at her, and it wasn’t solid. It was brown arse piss.

“Can I flush?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

“Indeed.”

She gagged slightly, breathing in the stench.

“Fuck, I can’t.”

“Maybe this will persuade you.”

She swivelled her head round and the Djinn was standing behind her, his crotch at her eye-level. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a thick wad of notes.

Her jaw almost hit the floor. That was a lot of dosh.

“There’s ten grand here. Now drink.”

Cursing some more under her breath, she gripped the sides of the toilet seat and dipped her head nearer the foul brown liquid.

I can’t, she thought in disgust as she lowered her head into the vile pool of shit. The putrid odour of a stranger’s corrupt bowels assaulted her nose and watering eyes.

Her puckered mouth broke the surface and she quickly slurped down a mouthful.

“Fuck!” she wailed, coming up for air.

Her gag reflex was working overtime. If she didn’t get this over with quickly, she was going to bail. She wiped her mouth on the back of her glove and left a watery brown stain on the yellow rubber.

She dipped her mouth back into the brown water and took five gulps in quick succession. When she was done she came up gasping for air and flung her back against the wall, landing heavily on her ample backside.

“Congratulations Pam,” the Djinn said to the panting, distressed woman. “You have successfully completed your first task. I shall come to you daily to grant your wish and issue further instructions.”

Pam barely heard him. It pained her to breathe and her ears were ringing. Her heart beat hard and fast and she found she was trembling all over. She felt something land in her lap and when she looked down she saw a whole heap of tens and fifties.

And just like that, the Djinn was gone.

Pam twisted her head sideways, and threw up. She reached for her mop and then thought; what the hell am I doing?

She didn’t need this piece of shit of job anymore, she had ten grand in her lap. After holding a few of the notes up to the light to check they were real, she lifted up her pullover and stuffed the notes in her bra.

She made her way back into the pub to collect her bag and coat, clutching the lamp in her trembling hands.

“That was quick,” a gravelly male voice said behind her, making her jump.

“I quit,” she said, not even bothering to turn around and reaching for her coat and bag that was slung over the bar.

“What the fuck do you mean, you quit? Pub opens in half an hour, clean those fucking toilets now. And what the fuck is that?” he asked, nodding towards the lamp she held clasped to her chest.

She turned round to face the bullying landlord. He was a right prick. Short, fat and obnoxious, his reputation for groping staff was legendary. Not her though, she wasn’t pretty enough for that fat bastard to touch her. She had never known if she was pleased about that, or insulted.

“Clean them yourself, you fat prick. And when you’ve done that, go fuck yourself,” she said, ignoring his question about the lamp.

His face turned a bright shade of red.

Boy, that felt good.

“How dare you talk to me like that, you good for nothing, ugly slag.”

She stalked out the dive of a pub with the shitty carpets and flat screen TVs on every wall that showed every football match known to mankind and called to him over her shoulder:

“The puke in the second cubicle from the left is mine. Enjoy cleaning it up.”

She stepped outside onto the busy London street, feeling happier than she had in years.

Her euphoria didn’t last long. Pam was so happy, so busy daydreaming about a brighter future that she didn’t notice straightaway when some money fell out of her bra and drifted to the pavement. Hastily, she leaned over on her little plastic-seat in the bus shelter and stuffed the money into her bag.

But she was too late in rectifying her mistake. When she glanced nervously around, she realised she had been spotted. She pretended not to notice the two young guys in the bus queue who were staring at her with knowing smiles.

Nope, she didn’t like the look of them one bit. One was black and the other was white. They fit every stereotype going of modern disenchanted youth; designer baggy jeans with their underpants showing, hoodies pulled up over their shaved heads, trainers that probably cost more than she earned cleaning in one whole month.

Alarm bells rang when they got off at the same stop as her. But there was little she could do about it, so she walked briskly in the direction of home, going the long way round to avoid the quiet streets.

Fat lot of good that did her. They pounced when she was less than five minutes from home, dragging her into an alleyway between a tanning salon and a betting shop.

The white guy pushed her to the floor. She landed on her rump, the shock of it knocking her sick for a second.

“Hand over the money,” he said.

“We saw that money fall out of your jumper at the bus stop,” the black guy said. “So hand it over.”

“What money?” she asked bravely. Stupidly.

The white guy kicked her in the side of her head and she went sprawling to the floor. Everything started to spin, and she could taste the coppery tang of blood in her mouth.

“Fuck this,” he said, reaching down to yank her pullover up over her fat stomach and heavy breasts. “Christ, what are you, the living dough girl?”

His friend snorted laughter and reached down to prise the wads of money out of the cups of her bra. In doing so he dislodged the bra and her big tits spilled out.

“Fuck, she’s disgusting,” the white guy said.

But when Pam gazed up at him through blurry vision, she saw that her being so disgusting didn’t stop him from rubbing the obvious bulge in the front of his designer jeans.

“Help!” she screamed.

Her cries for help were cut short when the white guy kicked her hard in her bare, flabby stomach. She doubled over, the air whooshing out of her.

The black guy finished fishing out the last of the notes from her torn bra.

“I don’t fucking believe this, there’s fucking thousands here.”

“Check her bag, maybe there’s more,” said the other guy.

He proceeded to tug down her scruffy cleaning jeans, taking her knickers with it.

“Hey man,” his friend asked. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for more money. If she keeps it stashed in her bra, who knows where else she keeps it. Like, up her ass, or something.”

“Shit, we don’t have time for this, you dirty fucker. What you wanna fuck that dog for? Let’s get out of here.”

Pam remained doubled over on her side, the air cool against her bare buttocks.

Why is this happening to me?  Oh God, my money…

In the distance a police siren could be heard.

“See,” the black guy said, “they’re on their way already.”

“Don’t be so fucking soft. This is fucking London, there’s always police sirens.”

“I don’t care. I’m gone.”

The white guy stared longingly down at her, then sighed deeply.

“Fine. Hey man, what’s that?”

“Dunno. It was in fatty’s bag.”

Pam blanched when she saw he was holding the lamp.

“No,” she wheezed. “Please don’t take that.”

That was absolutely the wrong thing to say.

The black man smiled. It showed lots of white teeth and the coldness of it sent a shiver down her spine.

They turned to leave, leaving her half naked and beaten, sprawled out in the alleyway.

“Shit,” one of them was saying, their figures and voices retreating. “I can’t believe that fat cunt had so much money on her…”

Pam groaned softly and pulled herself into a sitting position. Her attackers had taken every last penny. The fuckers.

But the worst thing of all was the lamp. Now she would never get her remaining five wishes.

What a fucking day, she thought miserably. She had drunk shit, been beaten up, lost ten grand, lost her job and any chance of a happy future now the lamp was gone.

Could this day get any fucking worse?

She didn’t think so.

She was wrong.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“Hello Wayne. I got mugged on the way home.”

Wayne glared at her and Pam shrivelled inside. She knew that look and it wasn’t good. She dragged her aching body over to the tatty sofa that served as a wall, dividing the kitchen from the living room and collapsed onto it.

“I couldn’t give two shits what happened to you on the way home. I meant what the fuck happened at work.”

Fuck, he knows. He knows I walked out. Now I’m really in the shit…

“I’ve just been beaten up and mugged. Can we talk about this later?”

He was on her in a flash, pinning her down with his big body against the sofa.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart. This rent don’t pay itself, you lazy, good for nothing slag.”

His breath was sour in her face, making her cringe. It wasn’t even yet midday and he’d already hit the booze.

Fucking marvellous.

“Wayne, please, have a heart. I’m really hurting right now…”

“I’ll give you hurting, you stupid fucking slut.”

One meaty hand was a dead weight on her collarbone and the other slapped her across the face. Normally it wouldn’t bother her, but her muggers had already hit her there and the inside of her mouth was bleeding where a tooth had cut her cheek.

She whimpered and clutched her throbbing face.

“Leave me alone Wayne, I mean it.”

Wayne’s face was red and his eyes bulged. She could see the way the thick, body builder veins in his neck were protruding and she quivered beneath him. That meant he was really mad. Not for the first time she wondered why she was still with him.

Because you’re too scared to be alone and you’ll never get anyone else. Ever.

“Stupid whore,” he said, sitting up and edging away from her slightly.

She breathed a sigh of relief. The threat of violence had passed. For now.

“I’m sorry baby, I’ll get another job right away, I promise. How do you know anyway?”

“Because you’re boss called and said you could forget about getting paid for last week.”

Oh my God, the complete fucking bastard, she thought angrily.

“I’m really sorry, Wayne. He was just such a bastard and I couldn’t stand it no longer.”

“We got rent to pay, you’re gonna have to get your sorry ass another job today or you’re gonna have to go out and whore yourself.”

Pam knew he wasn’t joking. She had never actually done it, she’d always managed to talk him round by telling him that he might catch some fatal STD if she did it. That had seemed to work. So far.

“I’ve still got the other cleaning gigs, and the care work, and the weekend factory job, it’s not like I’ve lost everything, and I’ll replace the job I lost today.”

“You’d better.”

Maybe you should get a fucking job, came the unbidden thought.

Immediately she felt guilty. She loved Wayne. She was lucky to have him. Women that looked like her never got guys that looked like Wayne. When he wasn’t drinking or taking drugs he worked out. And how. His midriff was maybe a little puddingy from all that beer, but he was sculpted and completely out her league in the looks department. He had that shaved head, Bruce Willis thing going on, except Wayne was a whole lot bigger and meaner looking.

He reminded her of this every day, that she was lucky to have him. That’s when she wasn’t working or he was beating on her.

I love him, she reminded herself. If you love him so much then why do you have to remind yourself that you do?

She shrugged off the dark thoughts. It must just be because she was tired and hurting.

“Why’d you get mugged anyway? You ain’t exactly Paris Hilton, are you?”

Pam shrugged. How the hell could she possibly even begin to explain?

Oh well, you know, I meet this Jeanie in a bottle, and he offered me ten grand if I drank out of a dirty toilet. Some thugs saw the money fall out of my bra at the bus stop and I got mugged…

“Just unlucky I guess.”

Wayne got up and crossed the short distance to the fridge to retrieve a can of lager.

“You need to get yourself cleaned up. You’ve got to go to work in a few hours.”

Pam had another cleaning job this afternoon and she mentally groaned at the thought of it. She took her weary body into the mould ridden bathroom and set about the arduous task of cleaning herself up.

Work passed without incident. Another four hours of mind numbing, soul destroying crap, cleaning up other people’s shit. When she got home on the bus, weighed down by a shop in Tesco, Wayne was laid out on the sofa snoozing.

“Hey. What’s for dinner?” he asked through half closed eyes.

Pam dumped the bags of shopping in the kitchenette and proceeded to stab holes in the microwavable lasagne.

“Lasagne,” she said, casting her eye around the shambolic, filthy flat on the fifteenth floor of a tower block situated in Bethnal Green. Empty tinnies surrounded Wayne, along with pizza crusts on dirty plates. There was crap everywhere, so much so her head hurt just looking at it all.

“Lasagne?” he asked.

Something in the tone of his voice had her on edge.

“Yeah,” she said warily.

“But you’re not working tonight.”

Four nights a week she did a twelve hour shift down a care home where she got to wipe shit fresh at the source instead of from a toilet.

“No, I’m not.”

“So therefore you’ve got plenty of time to cook a proper evening meal. My God, I’ve had nothing to eat all day apart from last night’s pizza, and now you’re gonna serve up something from a fucking microwave?”

Pam was bone weary. She knew where this was headed, and after the day she’d had, she didn’t think she could face it.

“I’m sorry Wayne, I’m just a bit tired. I’ll make a nice salad with it.”

“A salad?” he spluttered incredulously. “You have got to be shitting me.”

He got up from the sofa and joined her in the tiny kitchen, grabbing her by her soft upper arms and violently shaking her.

“Stop it!” she protested, her teeth rattling in her head.

“Shut up, you lazy bitch.”

His face had gone that same shade of red it always went when he was mad. She noticed that his pupils were dilated. Probably speed, she reasoned. He was always cranky when he took speed.

He spun her round and bent her over the kitchen work top.

“Oh no Wayne, please, I’m too tired for this…”

“Shut up and pull down your pants.”

She heard the whiz of his belt being pulled through his jean loops and she knew she didn’t have a choice. Not unless she wanted to make it ten time worse for herself. So she pulled down her jeans and knickers and offered up her fat, pimply arse.

The belt came cracking down on her fleshy buttocks. Tears stung her eyes and the singing pain in her backside had her gasping and choking back the sobs. She gripped the work top and took her punishment like a good girl, counting the devastating blows to her arse.

He stopped after six. Her arse throbbed like it had a heartbeat of its own and she had great difficulty righting herself.

“Now get the fuck out of my sight.”

She hobbled into their bedroom which was right next door with not even a hallway dividing the two rooms. She shuffled to the bed with her jeans round her ankles and collapsed onto it face first.

She could hear the whir of the microwave as Wayne heated up the lasagne and her stomach grumbled, despite having eaten her own body weight that day in various pastries from Greggs.

She doubted that Wayne would talk to her for the remainder of the night. When he was cross with her he usually stayed up late and watched porn. Sickness and dizziness enveloped her as she lay on the bed. The sound of grunting women drifted to her through the closed door. So he was starting early tonight then. Tears stung her eyes and she eventually fell asleep to the sounds of the violent pornography he so enjoyed watching.

END OF SAMPLE.