Free Mesmeris by K E Coles Page A
Authors: K E Coles
the punches. I doubt he even felt them.
He watched the others run out into the lane and disappear, eyes narrowed. ‘He’s lying,’ he said and somehow, I knew he was right, and despair washed over me. This was it, the end. Who’d have thought it would be so sordid, so grubby, so trashy?
‘Wouldn’t think he’d have the balls.’ Tipper shook his head and laughed. ‘Oh, Collie, you stupid fucker.’ Then he smiled at me. ‘So, it’s just the two of us. Kind of romantic, don’t you think?’
Something moved behind him, hurtled towards us - pale shirt, dark hair, and then Tipper was gone.
I slumped to the floor, closed my eyes, and leaned against the skip.
‘You okay?’
I pulled my clothes together, curled up like a child and cried.
‘Bastards.’ He stroked the hair back from my face, so gently. ‘You poor kid.’ It was Jack’s voice, definitely his voice. I opened my eyes. He was crouched in front of me. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I’m here now.’
Okay? His left eye was half-closed, the eyelid puffed up and red, like the cheekbone below it. A gash along his forehead stood proud, crusted with dried blood. But it
was
okay. It was more than okay.
My eyes slid to Tipper as he rolled onto his front. He was up on all fours. He was going to kill Jack – and then he was going to kill me. But Jack saw him too. Tipper didn’t have time to straighten up before Jack caught him by the throat. Maybe I wasn’t going to die after all. Tipper grabbed at Jack’s collar. There was a sound of tearing fabric as they both fell to the ground.
I dragged myself to my feet, stumbled towards the blur of flailing arms and legs.
Tipper was on top. He punched Jack’s face so hard I heard something crack, pulled his fist back.
No way. No way
. I threw my arms around his neck, and yanked his head back. My feet slipped out from under me. My back slammed into the ground, knocked the air from my lungs, and my head filled with noise, buzzing, ringing.
By the time my vision cleared, Jack was on top, one hand pressed down on Tipper’s throat. He pulled himself up until he was sitting across Tipper’s chest. I shuffled backwards, out of the way, watching, just in case. Tipper’s legs flailed. Jack punched him once, to the side of the head then dragged him to his feet, shoved him up against the walland held him there, a couple of inches off the ground. Tipper gasped for air, his eyes bulging. Urine trickled down his leg, splashed onto the concrete.
Not so brave now
.
‘I’m going to tear your bollocks off, pal,’ Jack said, ‘and stuff them down your throat.’
Yes – yes, good idea
. Tipper squirmed, dangled there, and did I care? Did I hell.
Jack looked at me. ‘Go outside, Pearl, okay, and wait for me.’
‘Outside?’ I shook my aching head. ‘They’re out there.’
‘They’re not. They’ve gone, I swear. Go outside and wait for me – and don’t look back. D’you hear me?’
‘They’re going to hurt my sister,’ I said. ‘We have to call the police.’
‘No – no police. I’ll deal with it.’ Jack looked from me to Tipper. ‘Anyway, don’t think he’s about to hurt anyone, do you?’
‘They’ve got people watching her.’
He looked up at the sky, took a deep breath. ‘Then get his phone.’
I couldn’t move.
‘Pearl. If you get his phone, he can’t tell anyone to hurt your sister, can he?’
I struggled to my feet. It was difficult because it made my head ache. Once I was up though, the pain eased off. I inched towards Tipper and stretched out my hand, averting my eyes. I felt the fabric of his jeans, pushed my hand inside his pocket, retched.
‘Quickly,’ Jack said.
Hard plastic. I closed my eyes, pulled the phone out, breathed through my mouth.
‘Go,’ Jack nodded at the lane.
I made it out of the yard. Checked first, in case the others were there, waiting for me. Jack watched me all the way. He said he’d hear me if I called, if they came back to get me. My legs
He watched the others run out into the lane and disappear, eyes narrowed. ‘He’s lying,’ he said and somehow, I knew he was right, and despair washed over me. This was it, the end. Who’d have thought it would be so sordid, so grubby, so trashy?
‘Wouldn’t think he’d have the balls.’ Tipper shook his head and laughed. ‘Oh, Collie, you stupid fucker.’ Then he smiled at me. ‘So, it’s just the two of us. Kind of romantic, don’t you think?’
Something moved behind him, hurtled towards us - pale shirt, dark hair, and then Tipper was gone.
I slumped to the floor, closed my eyes, and leaned against the skip.
‘You okay?’
I pulled my clothes together, curled up like a child and cried.
‘Bastards.’ He stroked the hair back from my face, so gently. ‘You poor kid.’ It was Jack’s voice, definitely his voice. I opened my eyes. He was crouched in front of me. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I’m here now.’
Okay? His left eye was half-closed, the eyelid puffed up and red, like the cheekbone below it. A gash along his forehead stood proud, crusted with dried blood. But it
was
okay. It was more than okay.
My eyes slid to Tipper as he rolled onto his front. He was up on all fours. He was going to kill Jack – and then he was going to kill me. But Jack saw him too. Tipper didn’t have time to straighten up before Jack caught him by the throat. Maybe I wasn’t going to die after all. Tipper grabbed at Jack’s collar. There was a sound of tearing fabric as they both fell to the ground.
I dragged myself to my feet, stumbled towards the blur of flailing arms and legs.
Tipper was on top. He punched Jack’s face so hard I heard something crack, pulled his fist back.
No way. No way
. I threw my arms around his neck, and yanked his head back. My feet slipped out from under me. My back slammed into the ground, knocked the air from my lungs, and my head filled with noise, buzzing, ringing.
By the time my vision cleared, Jack was on top, one hand pressed down on Tipper’s throat. He pulled himself up until he was sitting across Tipper’s chest. I shuffled backwards, out of the way, watching, just in case. Tipper’s legs flailed. Jack punched him once, to the side of the head then dragged him to his feet, shoved him up against the walland held him there, a couple of inches off the ground. Tipper gasped for air, his eyes bulging. Urine trickled down his leg, splashed onto the concrete.
Not so brave now
.
‘I’m going to tear your bollocks off, pal,’ Jack said, ‘and stuff them down your throat.’
Yes – yes, good idea
. Tipper squirmed, dangled there, and did I care? Did I hell.
Jack looked at me. ‘Go outside, Pearl, okay, and wait for me.’
‘Outside?’ I shook my aching head. ‘They’re out there.’
‘They’re not. They’ve gone, I swear. Go outside and wait for me – and don’t look back. D’you hear me?’
‘They’re going to hurt my sister,’ I said. ‘We have to call the police.’
‘No – no police. I’ll deal with it.’ Jack looked from me to Tipper. ‘Anyway, don’t think he’s about to hurt anyone, do you?’
‘They’ve got people watching her.’
He looked up at the sky, took a deep breath. ‘Then get his phone.’
I couldn’t move.
‘Pearl. If you get his phone, he can’t tell anyone to hurt your sister, can he?’
I struggled to my feet. It was difficult because it made my head ache. Once I was up though, the pain eased off. I inched towards Tipper and stretched out my hand, averting my eyes. I felt the fabric of his jeans, pushed my hand inside his pocket, retched.
‘Quickly,’ Jack said.
Hard plastic. I closed my eyes, pulled the phone out, breathed through my mouth.
‘Go,’ Jack nodded at the lane.
I made it out of the yard. Checked first, in case the others were there, waiting for me. Jack watched me all the way. He said he’d hear me if I called, if they came back to get me. My legs