Billie

I don’t know what time it was when I woke up. Middle of the night. Freezing cold, pitch black. I got up and tried to move about. I was still staggering, but whatever they spiked me with was wearing off.

I started walking.

I had no idea what the time was but it got lighter as I walked. It took hours. All the time I was thinking, You bastards, you bastards. I’d never even have found out what they were going to do if I hadn’t spilled that drink. And what he’d said about Cookie? ‘He doesn’t mind sharing his things with his mates.’ All the times they’d come round and I’d got so drunk I didn’t know what was going on. How many times?

I don’t know if it’s true. Jez is such a nasty bastard, he’d just say that. Cookie’s scared of him. He wouldn’t though. He never would. Would he?

I didn’t even know if I’d already been raped.

I walked and I walked. I walked it off, the drug, whatever it was. At last the park came up. I saw one of the neighbours walking her dog. She called out, but I didn’t answer. I just wanted to go home but it was still too early. I’d left my key at Cookie’s. Barbara always locks the house up like a safe at night, so I sat down on a bench for a bit and I think I must have dozed.

Then I went home.

There was no one in.

I could have cried. If they’d been in, it’d be over. The LOK, Secure, back in the cells. But at least it’d be over. I wanted to sit down in a chair and wait for it, but as soon as I realized the house was empty I knew what I was going to do. I was going to steal as much money as I could get my hands on and go out on the run again. I had another few days of freedom. Nowhere to go, no one to see, nothing to do. But I was going to do it anyway.

I ran round the house and got in at the back. My phone was lying there on the table. Barbara had put some credit on it, wonders will never cease. I turned it on. Grabbed some clothes, stuffed them in a bag. I dug about in the drawers and found some money – not a lot, just a few quid. I thought I’d better raid the kitchen. There’s sometimes a few quid hanging around in there and I needed food. I went in and looked in the cupboards and suddenly I found myself looking at the knives.

Cook’s knives, I thought.

It stopped me in my tracks. And I felt sick that I’d thought of it because I knew I was going to have to do it. I was going down. God knows what else was coming my way, because, let’s face it, I was losing it, wasn’t I? Anyone could see I was not doing well. And him, Jez – he was going to get away with it. With rape. Gang rape, him and his mates. They didn’t have to worry about a thing.

And what about Cookie? Didn’t you mind, Cookie? Didn’t you care? Was this your way of helping out your mate who doesn’t get any shags?

I don’t know if he was lying about Cookie or not. I reckon he was lying. Either way, I was never going round there again. But Jez, he needed to suffer for what he’d tried to do to me.

Barbara keeps her knives in this knife block, about five or six of them together. I took out the biggest, this dirty big thing, blade like a sword, but then I remembered what someone said to me years ago when I was small. You use a thin blade to stab someone. Something long and thin that you can stick in and pull out fast. You don’t want it getting stuck. In and out. And on the way out, you twist.

I put the big one down and took out a smaller one. Shorter, nice thin blade. Easier to conceal. Barbara has this little device in the drawer she uses to sharpen her knives with. I dug in the drawer and found it. It was like two little crossed arms. I ran the blade through it a few times and tested it on my thumb.

It’d do.

That’s what got him off, did it, doing it to an unconscious girl and watching his mates take turns after him? And she never knows a thing about it? See how sexy he feels with this jammed in his insides.

I thought, I’m going to do this. I’ve got nothing to lose; I’ve already lost everything. I can at least make sure he never does it to anyone else.

I slid the knife into my bag and opened up the fridge. There was a note there, right in my face, saying – ‘There’s a note for you on the kitchen table.’

I looked behind me. It had been there all the time, but I’d never noticed it. First thing – there’s a twenty-pound note folded inside the paper. What’s that? Barbara never gives me money when I’m not behaving myself. I picked it up and I was about to read it through. I was just thinking that Hannah must have told her to leave me some cash, when I heard their voices outside. All of them. Barbara and Hannah and Dan, all of them together.

Jesus. They’d teamed up. That’s all I needed.

I stuffed the note and money in my pocket and I legged it out the back door and up the garden. Glanced back – no one there yet. I scrambled over the fence – it was all overgrown; I got scratched to bits – ran through the garden at the other end and out on to the road.

As soon as I got clear, I ducked into the park to hide and have a read of that note – and you know what? I’d only gone and lost it. It must have fallen out of my back pocket when I was getting out. I couldn’t believe it. And the money – twenty quid, gone! I went back to have a look for it, retraced my steps. And I found it too. Well, I saw it, anyhow – in the garden, about halfway down. It must have fallen out while I was running.

I was more upset about the note than the money. I suppose a bit of me must have wanted to know what they were going to say, even though I could guess it. I hid in the bushes at the back for about fifteen minutes until bloody Barbara came out and found it. She ran back into the house, going ‘Hannah!’ at the top of her voice.

So that was that gone, money and note, the lot. I went back down the park. I heard them shouting for me. No way. I had business to do.

I thought, It’s still early. Jez’d still be in bed.

He worked evenings too, serving in a bar. I know where – Cookie and me’d been in there a few times. He’d said he was on at six. I remembered that much.

I’d take him out on his way to work. I didn’t care if he died. He deserved to die. I’d get put away. Life. What’s life? Twenty, maybe twenty-five years? Or maybe they’d drop some off because Jez is such a bastard. Then I’d only get twelve or even ten. Or maybe I wouldn’t kill him. Maybe I’d just stick him and he’d lose a lot of blood and it’d be touch and go, but he’d live, and I’d get done for GBH instead. Or even, if I was lucky, no one would see me and I could do a runner and he’d die in a pool of blood and no one would even know who’d done it. That was the dream ticket. I wasn’t counting on it, though, not with my luck. I was only going to get one chance at him, and I was going to make sure I took it. If I had to do it in the middle of the street with half of Leeds watching, I’d still do it.

I worked it all out in my head. I knew where he lived. I’d get him on his way out of his flat. It was perfect. I could hide behind the bins – bam! In and out. The blade wasn’t that long, but it was enough. At least I wouldn’t have just taken it lying down, would I?

For once in my life I’d have done something good.

I patted my pocket for my phone. I thought I’d check my messages. Would you believe I’d left that behind as well? I could see it in my mind lying there on the kitchen table. They’d come back like that and I’d dashed out – stupid! Well, I wasn’t going back to get it, was I? Not now.

Couple of hours to wait. Nothing to do. I found my old bench, tucked away where I wouldn’t be spotted, and I waited. All I wanted was to be left alone, let the time pass, so I could do what I had to do. Then they could take me away and watch my life disappear down the plughole, like it was always going to.