Page 86 of Beautiful Scars

Petrol fumes fill the air, masking the smell of piss as I pour it all over his stomach, dousing every inch of him from the neck down.

“Kill, please, mate. I’ll fucking disappear. I swear. I swear to God I’ll—”

I give him the smallest splash to his face, enough to shut him up but not enough to wash the blood away. The blood comes in handy for Cole’s purposes.

“The game,” my brother shouts from the darkness behind us. “The game is simple, Johnny-boy.” Already he has to shout louder in order to be heard over the whimpers. “Can we fuck you even harder than you fucked us?”

John’s eyes may be hidden from the severe leakage, but the look on his unrecognizable face tells me they’re working well enough. He can see exactly who Cole is dragging across the warehouse. Or maybe it’s a case of him being able to recognize that scream anywhere.

And she is screaming bloody murder.

“Shut her up.” Cole pushes her toward me and she stumbles into my arms. Her whole body freezes the minute she recovers, and the screams soften to whimpers of disbelief. The shakes should start any minute now.

After the shakes comes the begging.

I’ve done this enough times to know the script.

Something tells me this one isn’t going to be another Meisie. In what, fifteen years? Of doing this shit, Meisie’s the only one who ever properly fought back—even if it was were a pathetic attempt with a sex toy.

I guess Meisie was the only one who didn’t already recognize our faces and know what they represented.

I can’t help smiling as I remember that first morning.

Derek hands me a rag and I shove it into the girl’s mouth. She’s actually a whole lot more attractive than I would have expected a loon like John-boy to be with. Blond hair, big brown eyes, and tits that are more than a handful.

Pity. Would have been better for her if she’d looked like a burst sofa. At least that way Cole might have left her alone.

John-boy is begging. She’s crying. I drag her beside the fallen chair, and then with a swipe of my leg against the back of her ankles, I put her on the ground.

Cole is already unbuckling his belt.

I shouldn’t have thought about Meisie. About the fact we pretty much tried to do the same thing to her.

Because that girl down there probably doesn’t deserve this any more than Meisie deserved it.

“I’m going for a smoke,” I declare to absolutely nobody. Or maybe three smokes. Maybe I’ll go for a smoke and long fucking drive, because John-boy doesn’t look like he’s talking and Cole can fuck until he runs out of cocaine.

I’ll only be needed to put the fire out.

The cold night air and the smell of the sea hit as I step outside. The door slams closed behind me, and after that there’s nothing but the odd gust of wind to fill the silence. In the daytime this is a bustling seaside resort, with cafes and buses and wanker cyclists taking leisurely rides down the promenade, but at night there’s nothing. No people, no cars, and no sound until the seagulls come with the dawn. And I’m glad for it. Those petrol fumes went straight to my head.

I pull out a cigarette and huddle against the wall to keep the wind away long enough to get it lit. In the corner of my eye I notice the door swinging open.

Derek.

I hand him my packet and the lighter as I turn around and lean against the wall.

“Any news?”

Derek waits until he’s got his own cigarette lit and a few draws inside him before replying. “Aye. Might have a lead on the sprog.”

The sprog. That’s what we call Meisie’s kid.

“Solid?”

Derek gives me a blank stare. “I need a few more days.”

I nod.