Free Don't Turn Around by Caroline Mitchell Page B

the urge to cough.
    In the corner of the room Osborne lay on a mattress, his head tilted back as a soft moan emitted from his lips. A rubber band wrapped around his skeletal arm confirmed that he had taken a hit. Frank stared at the pimp intently, years of frustration fuelling his hatred. The feel of his leather gloves lent him a certain satisfaction as he clenched his fists. How good it would feel to end his worthless life.
    Osborne lay with fingers extended and eyes closed, still holding the empty needle.
    Adrenalin pumped through Frank’s veins as he strode towards him, and Osborne raised his head, squinting in the flickering light.
    ‘Whatdaya want? I ain’t got nothing.’ The man’s voice echoed haplessly, and was greeted with silence as the dark figure above threw his rucksack on the ground.
    Frank worked swiftly. Pulling the heavy hemp rope from his bag, he threw it over the beam. He tugged it twice, satisfied it would hold. His hands worked purposefully as he knotted the top half into a loop. The noose was already lovingly prepared. The legs of the wooden chair dragged on the thinly carpeted floor as he pulled it into position. It was a good thing one chair had escaped the fire, although Frank would have found a way if things hadn’t gone to plan. He was twice the size of Osborne to start with. He smirked. It would be like snapping a twig.
    Osborne dropped the needle and forced himself to sit up. He flailed his arms in an effort to chase away the intruder. ‘I said, fuck off and leave me alone.’
    Frank’s lip curled in a sneer. Kicking the bag out of the way, he marched over to the man. Osborne’s eyes grew wide as he pushed his hand under his mattress, grasping for something that was no longer there.
    ‘Looking for this?’ Frank said, waving the knife in front of him. ‘I took it yesterday. Now be quiet and this won’t be too painful.’
    Osborne tried to stand, but his useless legs crumpled beneath him. Using one hand, Frank grabbed him by the throat and lifted him up. Osborne’s eyes bulged as he fought to breathe, clawing at Frank’s muscled arms. Frank punched him in the mouth, knocking out two of his front teeth. ‘I said, be quiet. Now, do I need to tell you again?’
    ‘Pleath messr, pleath don’t hurth me.’ The words whistled through the bubbles of blood, pouring from his gums into his ragged beard.
    ‘Did Glo say please?’ Frank said, shoving him into the mattress and binding his wrists. Frank wiped his brow. He flipped Osborne around and shoved a rag into his mouth.
    ‘Did Glo ask you to stop as you pinned her down and injected your poison into her?’
    He pulled Osborne up and held him at arm’s length.
    Osborne almost looked pitiful – but it was too late. Frank had seen the guilt in his eyes.
    He dragged him to the center of the room and placed the noose over his head.
    ‘Blindfold? No? Glo didn’t have a blindfold when you killed her, did she, you murderous bastard.’ The irony was completely lost on Frank as he pulled a length of rope tighter over the rafter, stretching Osborne to his full height.
    ‘Guaarghh,’ Osborne gurgled, his bloodied tooth nestled in his greying beard. Frank wrapped the rope around his arm and lifted Osborne onto the chair. He flopped like a fish out of water, fighting his grip.
    ‘Let’s see how long you can keep your balance.’ Frank said, as he pulled the rope tighter over the beam, tying a double knot. He giggled manically as his fantasy reached fruition. Somewhere in the back of his brain, a voice spoke to him. It was his father. You don’t have to do this Frankie, it’s not too late. Just cut him down and tell him you were teaching him a lesson. He won’t tell a soul.
    Frank stood back and took one last look at the man, dancing on his toes on the chair. The truth was, he didn’t want to back out. He had imagined the scene so many times, it had already happened. With one swift kick, Frank sent the chair skidding onto the floor.