Chapter 100

100

When her bonds were released, Shannon had to use every bit of willpower not to tear at her face and torso. She was covered in tiny blistered spots. Magenta was the same. The kid was home from school again and in a foul mood.

The woman was presumably at work and the man had gone off after locking them in. He'd checked all the windows and doors before he left.

‘I wish I was in school,' Magenta said. ‘I like school. But I have to pretend there.'

‘Pretend about what?'

‘Who I am.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I'm Magenta here and Maggie there. It's a bit shit.' The child scratched at a spot until it bled. Shannon did nothing to stop her.

‘Why have you two names?'

‘How would I know?'

‘Do you know their real names too?'

‘Are you joking? Of course I do. But you can't trick me into telling you.'

‘I'm not trying to trick you. I need to get out of here, and you do too. This is not normal, what they're doing to us, to you. All the doors chained and locked. Tying me up and taping my mouth shut. Can you not see how wrong it is?'

The girl continued to scratch the same spot then stared at her bloody finger. ‘I kind of like it. It's like a big adventure.'

‘How long have you lived here?'

‘Years. We came on a boat over the sea. Then we got a bus and then a car. A nice man gave her a car and this house. I think it's cute.'

Jesus. Shannon could think of a lot of words to call the house, but cute was definitely not on the radar. ‘It's horrible.'

‘You're not very nice,' Magenta said, her eyes darkening. ‘I know where she keeps the knife. Don't move.'

Shannon's hands shook uncontrollably. She glanced around trying to find some way to get the fuck out of this nightmare. She wasn't waiting for the child to return with a knife to taunt her, maybe kill her.

She rooted in the drawers, though she knew the one with the knives was padlocked. In the top cupboard she eyed the mugs and glasses. A glass. She could smash one and arm herself with a shard. But could she hurt a child? Like fuck she could, if it meant protecting herself.

She took out a pint glass and smashed it against the ceramic sink, hoping the noise didn't carry to wherever Magenta had gone. Extracting the longest and sharpest piece from the sink, she palmed it, careful not to cut herself.

‘I wouldn't if I was you.' The voice came from the doorway. It was low and menacing. Turning round, she was totally wrong-footed by the person standing before her.

Before she could raise her hand to wield her makeshift weapon, she felt her body on fire and sizzling, and she dropped to the floor.