Luca Veste - The Dying Place

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 he had been born in the wrong era. It seemed to Murphy that there were more victims than ever that supposedly deserved their fates, in a growing number of people’s opinions. Even if they were only a few years on from being nothing but kids. Not having a clue what the reality of their actions could eventually lead to.

Murphy had been there. Growing up on a council estate in South Liverpool, the line between making something of your life and screwing it up was thin. Sometimes even blurred.

Murphy took out his phone as they reached their office, the silence he’d been hoping for denied due to DC Harris sitting behind the desk speaking into his mobile, his back to them. He turned as they entered, redness creeping up his neck. Private call then, Murphy thought.

‘I’ll call you back,’ Harris whispered into the phone, which made little difference considering the size of the office. ‘I don’t know when, I’ll just ring in a bit, okay?’ He stabbed at the phone, slamming it down on the desk with more force than Murphy thought he’d intended.

‘You all right?’ Rossi said, taking her jacket off and placing it over her chair. Murphy was already taking his phone out of his pocket.

‘Yeah, just … doesn’t matter. Boring shite.’

Rossi went to reply but stopped herself as Murphy shot her a look. Domestics. Best not to get involved. Murphy went back to texting.

Body this morning. Won’t be late though. Bit knackered, so can I just pick up an Indian?

Murphy hesitated before pressing send. He hoped Sarah would understand that he wasn’t taking her out, but he could never tell how she’d respond. In many ways they were still treading on eggshells with each other. Learning how to be with one another after they’d spent the best part of a year apart, following the death of his parents and all that had brought with it.

‘Just send it,’ Rossi said, interrupting his thoughts. ‘She’ll understand.’

Murphy smirked. And they say women’s intuition doesn’t exist. ‘Supposed to be taking her out,’ Murphy said, phone still in hand, the screen darkening. ‘Forgot to book a table though, so now I’ve got a perfect excuse.’

‘She’ll be fine. Take her tomorrow or next week. All the time in the world,’ Rossi replied.

Muttering came from Harris’s direction, accompanied by a loud sigh.

‘What’s up with you?’ Murphy said, sending the text as he spoke.

‘Nothing,’ Harris replied. ‘Just, you know, they’re not always as understanding as that.’

Murphy shared a smile with Rossi. ‘I’m sure it’ll work itself out. Don’t let it get to you.’

Harris shrugged in response. Three of them in the office and Murphy realised his relationship was probably the most secure. A strange feeling, given what had happened the previous couple of years.

He was mentally admonishing himself for allowing a crack to appear in the veneer of stability. Allowing work to affect things. He couldn’t let that happen again.

His phone buzzed on the desk in front of him.

Glad you said that. I’m knackered. Get home in time for 8 out of 10 Cats.

Murphy allowed himself a small smile before checking the time. Almost six p.m. Just enough time for a conversation he was dreading.