Time To Play by KA Richardson (best book club books of all time TXT) 📗

Jesus Christ, please listen to me. I’ll tell you. Fuck, this hurts.

The second blow was harder, the third even harder still. Danny no longer knew where his jaw began and ended as his face just felt like an explosion of pain. The taste of metal hit his mouth and he felt blood start to trickle to the back of his throat from a tooth that had dislodged.

Please God, no. This hurts so fucking bad. I can’t do this.

Searing pain suddenly spread across one side of his ribs, rapidly followed by pain on the other side, as Rocko hit him as if he was a punchbag, one blow rapidly following the next. Danny couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t even inhale before the next punch hit and he saw stars as he struggled to draw in oxygen.

You fucking fuckers, stop! Please stop. You bastarding fucking twats. I said I’ll tell you where she is.

The blows stopped, and Danny gasped in a breath. His lungs felt like they’d shrunk to the size of a child’s. Pain pulsed around his body and it was impossible to know where it began and ended. His head dropped forward. I can’t take much more of this.

Gaz stepped forward now, and when Danny saw the knife in his hand he started screaming, struggling against the chains. But Gaz didn’t use it. Instead, he placed it along the side of Danny’s neck and leant in to his ear.

‘You know what’s worse than the pain you must be feeling? The thought of the rats that are going to come and feast on your flesh. They love the taste of blood, can smell it from miles away. The back door is ajar, and they’ll come as soon as it gets dark. Sniffing you out, scrabbling in the dark. You won’t even see them until they’re right upon you. We’ll be back tomorrow; maybe you’ll be dead, maybe you won’t. Either way it’ll teach you. You shouldn’t have slept with the little bitch. She was reserved, now she’s gone and the money Rocko would have got has to come from somewhere. Don’t expect to be paid for the last month’s work.’

Twisting the knife sharply, he cut the side of Danny’s neck, not deep but enough to make blood drip down towards his chest. He repeated the motion on his arms and legs, before smiling at Danny.

‘You disgust me. If you’d had a bigger set of balls, we’d all be OK. See you tomorrow, stud.’

The slam of the door reverberated, and Danny sagged in his chains.

Jesus Christ, they’re sick. All of them. Why the fuck didn’t I walk away. We could have gone to Scotland, or Ireland. Anywhere that was far away from here. I don’t deserve this.

But the niggling voice in his head disagreed. He could have gone to the police at any point along the way and reported what was happening. Gaz was right, he had no balls. Desolation and despair swamped him as he let the chains take his weight.

I deserve to die. That girl doesn’t. Even if they give me the chance, I can’t tell them. They’ll find her and kill her. She’s a kid. Maybe if someone had helped me when I was her age, I wouldn’t be here, trussed up like the Christmas fucking turkey.

Stars still swam around his vision, and he realised his jaw crunched when he moved, causing yet another cascade of pain. This time, he didn’t try to fight though; he had nothing left to fight with. Closing his eyes, he sank into the welcomed darkness that beckoned him.

Dive Team HQ, South Shields – 6 November

Elvie slowly stood from her hiding place under the stairwell. She’d somehow managed to fall asleep and had slept for almost twenty hours, her body taking some much-needed time to repair. But now it reminded her that she was hungry, thirsty and needed to find the toilets again. She had ventured out the night before but was terrified she’d get caught so had urinated, had a drink from the bathroom sink then hidden again.

She cocked her head to one side, straining to listen.

The building remained silent.

She cautiously made her way up the stairs and through the door at the top. It led straight into some kind of seating area. There were tables and chairs, and a fridge hummed away to itself in the corner. The need to pee was stronger than the need to forage though, and she made her way round the room and through the door at the end.

After finding the toilet, she made her way back to the room with the tables. It had smelt like stale food, remnants of last microwave meals and grease loitering in the air. She crept to the fridge and pulled the door. It squeaked as it opened and she froze, listening for anything that would indicate someone else was there to hear.

But she heard nothing.

Opening the fridge door further, the scent of deep-fried chicken entered her nose, and her mouth instantly salivated. She didn’t even care what it was; it smelt like heaven. Reaching her hand into the round red and white box, she pulled out a piece of chicken and sank her teeth into it with a groan. It was a little greasy, but it was good, and exactly what she needed. She took the box out of the fridge, along with a can of cola and a handful of items from the top shelf which housed all manner of chocolate bars, sweets and drinks cans, and she took her haul back down to her hidey hole at the bottom of the stairs.

It was quite a large area, and held tarps, old dive tanks, and various other bits and bobs. It had hidden her well when she slept, and she felt safe there.

Pulling a tarp round her shoulder to take