Chapter 7
Ed’s eyes open to darkness, the sound of an exhaust and rubber on the road is all that can be heard. He lies there waiting for his senses to adjust in spite of his burning headache. There’s a musky smell and the air is thick and warm. He feels round in the boot of the car and puts two and two together. Working out where he is, survival takes over; he needs to escape.
He feels round some more, towards the front of the car and gently pushes on one of the back seats hoping it’ll fold down, Ed’s attempt fails and no matter how hard he pushes, the back of the seats are locked back. He rolls over, this time facing the rear of the car and feels for the locking mechanism for the boot. Everything is encased, this tells Ed the car is modern and, being a car sales trainer, he knows what he's looking for.
The drive is bumpy and causes him to bounce around the boot; he needs to be alert because another hard blow to the head could have ramifications. Ed admits defeat, he knows that he's not escaping this boot and lies there waiting, wondering where he's going.
Not long later the car comes to a halt and Ed tenses up in anticipation. He hears footsteps, the car door shuts and the boot opens a few seconds later. The fresh cool air fills the boot in seconds and the light from a streetlamp burns his eyes, not giving them enough time to adjust.
He looks around, only seeing the dark sky and a few more streetlamps; Ed wastes no time in jumping up, out of the boot and bolts down the dark road without even looking back.
Whilst running he suddenly realises where he is, about three streets from home. Confused and feeling disorientated Ed slowly walks back to his house, re-enacting tonight's events in his mind. The last he remembers is Tyrone sitting on the couch and they're talking; the next thing is he wakes in that stuffy boot and is dropped off near his home, alarm bells start ringing, these people want him alive.
He walks through his front door to yet another parcel on the floor, hand-delivered with his name written in big letters in blue ink across the padded envelope. He leans down, picks it up and tears it open with his teeth, completely forgetting he has a broken jaw; the pain is so intense it runs through his body and down his legs.
Once recovered he, empties the contents of the parcel onto the kitchen side; another mobile, a knife and black gloves. There's also a note: This next task will take more than just a car salesman, you'll need someone you can trust to help you. Call this number 0779251295 for further details once you have your accomplice.
Ed’s feeling reluctant to do any more tasks; he’d rather die than do anything else, his life is a complete mess and people have died because of these games. He shoves everything back in the envelope and throws it on the side. He downs a pint of water, makes his way upstairs and to take a long hot shower.
Whilst drying himself, he hears a noise from downstairs, music; heavy metal and loud. He wraps his towel round him and slowly creeps downstairs; he then works out it’s the phone they've sent him. He rushes into the kitchen, grabs it out of the packaging and answers.
'What?' He shouts loud.
'Edward, I take it you got your note?' Once again it's the dry monotone voice as expected.
'Yes and I'm not doing anything else for you!'
'Edward, Edward, Edward, you don't really have a choice.'
'There’s always a choice.'
'So, you one hundred percent mean it you’re not doing it?'
'One hundred percent now give up.'
'Even though you don't know what it is?'
'I couldn't care less.' gripping the phone in anger.
'Very well Edward, your choice.'
'What do you mean my choice?' There's no reply; Ed then notices the caller has hung up.
Knowing these people are ruthless, Ed is now anxious as to what the caller meant by his choice? What's going to happen now? This can't be the end? He asks himself. He opens the fridge and pulls out a cold bottle of lager, rips off the lid and guzzles it in one. He then pulls out another and does exactly the same. Ed needs sleep; by getting drunk he's guaranteed a good night’s sleep.
Theres a loud bang on the door; Ed jumps up and opens his eyes. He looks around the room to see that he's downed a bottle of red along with a few beers. There's a bang against the door again, Ed stands, rubs his eyes and slowly moves towards the front door, bumping his shoulder into the doorframe of the lounge on his way through.
He slowly opens the door, blurry-eyed, as a strange girl charges in his house towards him.
'Help me!' she shouts clinging onto him. She smells dirty, her clothes are damp and she's ice cold.
'Who are you? What's wrong?' holding her by the shoulders, at arm’s length.
'The men, they punished me!' shaking, with a look of terror in her eyes.
'I’m going go call the police.' Ed pulls out his mobile ready to dial 999.
'No!' she shouts, 'That's the worst thing you can do!' She pulls the mobile away from Ed’s ear then breaks away, shutting the front door, pulling across the chain.
'I feel safe in here.' gently giving Ed a smile.
Ed looks at her, she's about 5' 3" small build, dark greasy hair with a pale complexion and dark sunken eyes.
'Whats your name?' He asks.
'Jagen, what's your name?' her voice is soft, quiet like a whisper.
'Ed, what brings you to my door?'
'It was the only house with a light on and I hoped someone was in.'
'Whats happened to you!'
'I can't say.'
'Jagen, if you want me to help you, you need to tell me.'
'Ok, my foster parents took me in ten years ago, when I was eight. My mum died during my birth and my dad was sent to prison.'
'Sorry Jagen, can I get you a drink? Some clothes? You look cold.'
'In a minute thanks, I've got to get this out now or I won't.'
'Sorry.' Ed’s intrigued.
'Anyway, to cut a long story short, on my sixteenth birthday my foster dad raped me and every day ever since then him and his bastard son have done so.'
'Oh my God.' Ed looks at her with complete sorrow; she bursts into tears and he steps forward and holds her.
'I'm sorry to come here, your house had a light on, they locked me in the garage for days and I managed to escape and kept running and running.'
Ed interrupts her. 'Shush, calm down, you’re safe here, why don't you take a shower there's clean towels upstairs and throw on whatever clothes you fancy?'
She smiles and heads up the stairs. She turns and spots Ed dialing his mobile.
'No!' she shouts at the top of her voice. 'Please don't call the police, I'll explain why afterwards, I promise.'
Ed stops, 'Ok, I won't, but I need a good reason not to.'
'Thank you.' She continues up the stairs to clean herself up.
An hour later she returns, Ed’s fast asleep on the couch, snoring like an old man. Jagen smiles, kneels down in front of the fireplace, places her hands together and begins to pray in a whisper.
'Mother if you’re watching over me, please don't let the men find me. Help me to be strong and forget all the bad things that have happened me, watch over, me and keep me safe, I promise to make my life good and I'm grateful for you bringing me into this world - Amen.'
She grabs a throw from a small armchair, wraps herself up in it, lies on a sheepskin rug on the floor with a cushion and falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.
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