Bang.
The sound was deafening in the small space, making Goldie jump and lose his footing.
A soft voice from the corner, that’s all he could hear after the ringing had stopped.
‘No … no … no …’
Goldie looked over the broken body of Bootle towards the door. The main guy – Bally-Suit – stood there, backed up with two others. Holding the rifle level with him. The bang had come from one of the other two rather than him, Goldie guessed. Bally-Suit wouldn’t have fired a gun without it being pointed at someone, Goldie reckoned.
Goldie realised he was shaking his head, moving backwards all the time. The fight disappearing from him.
He was in the shit.
Bally-Suit man had offered up the name Alpha as he’d tied him to the rack. It suited him. Better than what Goldie had come up with.
Alpha. He was the one in charge.
Goldie tried not to pay much attention to what was happening. Thought he could zone out of whatever they did to him, think above the pain.
It didn’t – couldn’t – work like that. He was restrained so he couldn’t make any movement at all. Every possible part of him was strapped down, tied together, and immovable. Lying spreadeagled in just the black boxer shorts he’d been given a pile of at some point – fucking Asda brand; he couldn’t believe he was putting his junk into something so shite – exposed and useless.
‘It’s a shame it’s come to this,’ Alpha said from somewhere to his left. Goldie couldn’t move his head to check for certain. ‘I knew you’d end up here at some point, but it is really a damn shame it was due to this. We simply cannot tolerate you lads fighting each other. It will not happen again. I hope the next couple of hours convince you of this.’
Goldie shivered as a cold breeze snuck under the wooden door that he could just about make out. Just the ridge at the top, if he really tried looking down. Otherwise it was just strip light, which burned into his eyes if he looked at it too long. Lighting up his face even when his eyes were closed.
‘We call this a rack, but it’s not like the old racks they had hundreds of years ago. Those ones … Jesus. You wouldn’t believe the pain they could inflict. They’d tie you down and stretch you out, tightening the ropes and making your bones dislocate and break. Destroying your limbs. Tearing them right out.’
Goldie started shaking … as much as he could, anyway. He tried again to move, but it didn’t matter. He could move a finger – maybe two – but not much more than that.
‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to stretch you out or anything like that. No. This is purely about instant pain and punishment. But also … hopefully … redemption. I don’t want to destroy you. I want you to get better, understand?’
Goldie opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by the gag which was shoved in his mouth as he opened it. His vision was obscured by a thick piece of sock-like material being placed around his eyes.
‘Good. Then we’ll begin.’
Goldie tensed as he heard the flick of a lighter. Clenched his eyes tight and tried to block out the pain.
Burning on his chest. Fuck, his chest was on fire. He tried to see, but the harsh light overhead stopped him. Screwing his eyes shut, he thought of home, of his streets, of anywhere but there.
He tried screaming, but the gag inside his mouth turned it into a mumble in the darkness.
Some sort of vice was attached to his head. Goldie felt it tightening, the bones of his skull being forced together, screaming in agony as he thought of his head exploding. Alpha seemed to know the limits though.
It wasn’t his first time, Goldie thought at one point. Oh fucking shit – it wasn’t his first time.
The needles were the worst. That’s what he guessed they were. Sharp, piercing pain in the skin between his fingers and toes. A bang as he imagined the thin pieces of metal being hammered through, then more agony as they were removed and covered.
He cried behind the covering over his eyes. Goldie hadn’t shed tears in as long as he could remember, always believing nothing could break him.
He was wrong.
After a while, the torture stopped and the numbness which had crept over him disappeared, bringing fresh waves of nausea as the pain kicked in once more.
‘That’s probably enough, Alpha … don’t you think?’
The voice came from further away, but even in the agony-induced state Goldie was in, he could hear the fear behind it.
‘Not nearly enough for this piece of shit.’
‘Okay … it’s just, well … we’re not really equipped for putting him right if you go too far.’
Goldie listened, barely able to match the words being spoken to a real conversation.
‘Would that be so bad?’
‘Of course it would. We’re not here for … for that. Are we?’
Goldie heard a sigh.
‘It’ll do for now, I guess. What do you think, Mr Gold?’
Goldie tried to nod his head, but it screamed in response as he tried to move it. Alpha tutted and removed the blindfold from his eyes.
‘Good. Well, Omega here will clean you up and have you back in the Dorm in no time at all. I hope we won’t have to do this again anytime soon. I trust you’ll behave yourself from now on?’
Goldie tried blinking, but the strip light above him refused to allow him respite from the pain as it burned into his eyes. He kept his eyes partially closed as he squinted above him, Alpha’s covered face looming into view.
‘I think we have an understanding now, don’t we? We’re not messing around here. You will be taught how to behave. It’s a shame your parents have failed so badly in this area and that we have to resort to such extreme measures, but it takes time and punishment, you see? Probably not now, no, but soon. Soon you’ll all see.’
The dark face moved away then returned, closer this time. Whispering into his ear.
‘The next time, I take a finger. Then we can really start to see what you’re made of.’
He moved away again and a few seconds passed before another masked face replaced him. Goldie wanted to believe he saw pity in the eyes of this one, but he didn’t know the difference any more.
He didn’t know anything.
The first day was winding down, the light fading outside in the early May evening. Murphy and Rossi crossed the incident room, heading back towards their office. There’d be a short meeting before they left for the day, but other than the list of names they’d accrued, there wasn’t much else they could do. Overtime was currently a dirty word in the station, and unless the DCI suddenly got pressure from above, Murphy couldn’t imagine they’d change that for a single victim. Especially when he knew what most minds in the hive would be thinking.
Some scally kid had got what was coming to him.
It still troubled Murphy. Any death still had that effect on him. Sometimes he wondered if