The Tied Man

I wasn’t sure how long it had been; with no clock to keep measure of the time, and enough temazepam in my system to dull my vision to a monochrome blur, it could have been seven days or seventy.  Long enough for my fear of the darkness to develop into a constant, low-level howl, and long enough for the noise of Coyle’s footfall have me slavering like a Pavlovian dog in anticipation of my next fix – that much I knew, at least.

Now the meagre light from the lamp-lit corridor hurt my eyes as Coyle kicked the door open and strutted in.  He held a basin of water, and had a ragged towel, a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt that looked vaguely familiar draped over his left arm.

‘Stand up, fag.’  He was bored, drunk and belligerent.  Always a winning combination.  He clumsily set the bowl down so that water and suds slopped over the sides, then threw the clothes at me.  ‘Get yourself washed, then get those on. You’re back working tonight – couple of fellas come all the way from the U S of A lookin’ for some hot twink action, you lucky, lucky bastard.  Can’t have you stinking like the shit you are now, can we?’

I didn’t move.  Initially it was simply because I couldn’t find the energy, but there was also something satisfying about Coyle’s irritation at my disobedience.

‘What the fuck you waiting for?  Christmas?’

I decided to stay put.

‘You think ‘cos I’m not allowed to mark you, I can’t hurt you?’  Coyle submerged the towel in the water.  ‘Because I’m telling you now, that’s a bloody stupid mistake to make.’  He brought the towel out and wrung it out tightly, sending fat drops of water splattering across the stone flags. ‘Now, get the fuck up.’

I watched him with detached curiosity, wondering when the talking was going to stop.

The answer was, pretty much immediately.  As I’d hoped, the rolled-up towel smacked into my broken ribs with a force that knocked the breath from me.  I welcomed the familiarity and waited for the pain to register.

‘Get.  The.  Fuck.  Up.’  Each word on a separate impact.  The wet towel was cudgel hard and Coyle was sufficiently skilled to ensure a good beating without leaving so much as a single bruise, but to my dismay I was a dispassionate observer, watching from the far side of the room as someone else got the crap beaten out of him for a change.  I had lost the ability to feel.

My lack of response infuriated Coyle, and he began to break sweat in his attempt to make me cry out.  ‘What’s the fuckin’ matter with you?  You gone simple after a few days in the dark?’

I giggled at him; a high, child’s laugh that I didn’t recognise as mine. Once I’d started, I couldn’t stop myself, even as Coyle rained harder and harder blows down on me.  ‘You can’t hurt me,’ I gasped, the most hilarious punchline in the world.

Coyle finally stopped.  ‘Is that right?  So, shall we have a wee chat about Lilith and see if that’s still the case?’

The mere mention of her name did what any number of whacks had failed to do.  Coyle had just managed to rip my chest open and grab my heart.

‘Thought that would get your attention.’

‘I swear, if you’ve touched her…’

‘You’ll what?  Slobber on my feet?  Look at the state of you, you pathetic turd.  Anyway, it’d be a bit fuckin’ tricky to hurt her now, seein’ as she fucked off back to Spain three days ago.’

The hand around my heart squeezed tight. ‘No.’

‘What?  You think she was going to wait around for the gimp who’d got her finger-fucked on the kitchen floor?  She finished her pretty picture and ran, first chance she got.  Straight into the loving arms of that Gabriel fella, according to The Herald.  I’ll bring it down to show you on my next visit – a bit of light reading to while away the hours, eh?’

With that news, everything ended.  Coyle had won.  I hurt harder than I’d ever hurt in my life.

‘So now will you fuckin’ well stand up?’

I numbly staggered to my feet, using the rough wall as support as my wasted leg buckled under me.  ‘Need to get sorted.  Clean.  If I’m working…’ The words sounded thick and dead.

Coyle casually lit a cigarette and offered me one.  ‘I don’t think there’s anything left in your arse to wash out, is there?  Haven’t seen you eat anything for the past few days.’

‘I need…’ I repeated.

‘I really don’t give a shite what you need.  The nice gentlemen who’ve paid for your services want you as you come, so to speak.  Probably want to scrub the shit out of you themselves.’  He shrugged.  ‘Or eat it. Whatever it is you dirty bunch of bastards get up to.’  He threw the towel back into the basin.  ‘Now, do as you’re told  and I’ll even let you have a couple of vallies to take the edge off before your shift starts.’