She ignored the crops, heading straight for the studded whips instead. She ran her fingers along them before selecting the nastiest. This was only for the hardcore masochists, not really her thing, but she gave it to him and marched over to the wall. He shackled her. Still not a word had been spoken.
He felt oddly tentative as if he didn’t know what game he was playing. So his first strike was a bit soft.
‘Harder.’
He obliged, but it wasn’t enough.
‘HARDER.’
So he let her have it. And this time he drew blood. Her body flinched with the pain, then seemed to relax as a trickle of blood ran down her back.
‘Again.’
Where was this going to end? He couldn’t tell. The only thing he knew for certain was that this woman wanted to bleed.
‘Tell me again what happened’.
Amy shut her eyes and hung her head. Charlie seemed like a nice person and had handled her with kid gloves, but why did she have to do this? Since she’d been released from police custody, she had tried anything and everything to stop thinking about it. Her mother had followed her around like a bloodhound to begin with, but had backed off after Amy had flipped out. Momentarily free of her shadow, she’d hunted out left-over party booze and her mum’s ‘secret’ stash of Valium, and when they didn’t work resorted to her dad’s sleeping pills. Big mistake. In her dreams – nightmares – Sam was ever present. Smiling at her. Laughing. It was unbearable and she’d woken up screaming – to find herself by the front door rattling the chain, desperately trying to escape. She’d decided there and then to stay awake for the rest of her life – never giving in to sleep – and to avoid all human contact. But here were the police again, reminding her of her horrific betrayal.
‘You were hitching. It was raining. A van pulled up.’
Amy nodded mutely.
‘Describe the van to me.’
‘I’ve already made a statement, I -’
‘Please.’
A heavy, breathless sigh. A feeling of suffocation. And suddenly tears were springing up again – Amy forced them down.
‘It was a Transit van.’
‘What make?’
‘Ford? Vauxhall? Something like that. It was white.’
‘What did she say to you? Exact words, please.’
Amy paused, unwillingly climbing back inside the memory.
‘“You need rescuing?” – that’s what she said. “You need rescuing?” Then she opened the passenger door, there was space enough for three in the cab, so we got in. I wish to fuck we hadn’t.’
And this time she did cry. Charlie let her for a second, before handing her a tissue.
‘Did she have an accent?’
‘Southern.’
‘Any more specific than that?’