“What a peculiar conversation this is.” Two gave an amused grunt. “But I understand now why this place must puzzle you so. Looking as you do, with this special superpower of yours.” He chuckled. “You’re right, ironing does seem a pointless waste of your particular skills.”
Alex looked at him, and Two looked back, his eyes twinkling. Then they both burst out laughing.
“Please be quiet,” Four said stiffly. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”
Two shot Alex another amused glance and then got up, wincing and rubbing his hip. “Forgive me, my dear boy, but I’m terribly glad I’m not the one sleeping in there tonight. My old bones are too weary for that.”
“Thank you,” Alex said softly. Two looked down at him with a raised eyebrow. “For the blanket,” Alex whispered. With a cheery little wave, Two returned to his bed.
Alex curled up into a ball and wrapped the blanket tightly around his body, feeling a little warmer for knowing he’d made a friend.
He slept fitfully; he kept waking up, feeling cold and wanting desperately to pee. He wished he had his photos. They’d stopped him throwing himself off the cliff in his first few weeks here, and he needed them badly now. Three snored: loud, blustery sounds that would have been hard to sleep through even in the best of circumstances. Five twitched and made whimpering noises every so often. Alex wondered what his history was, and whether he was reliving some past trauma in his dreams.
He was relieved when the klaxon sounded at 5.30a.m. and F strode into the room. He opened the cage and dragged Alex out. His muscles protested the sudden movement after being cramped all night. Everything ached. Then F saw the blanket.
“Who gave you this?” He held Alex tightly by the arm with one hand and held up the blanket with the other.
“Nobody,” Alex said.
The other men were all stirring. Two shot him an anxious glance.
“Someone gave it to you. Who was it?” F demanded.
“Nobody,” Alex repeated firmly. F pushed him down over the table in the centre of the room and raised his stick. Alex thought of the beating Tyler had given him that had almost killed him. Maybe he wouldn’t survive this one. Maybe he didn’t want to.
“It was me,” a calm voice said.
F whirled around. Two stepped forward. “I gave it to him. So, if you want to beat anyone, beat me.”
F grinned. “Gladly.” He caught hold of Two’s arm, shoved him face down over the table, and thrashed the stick down hard over his shoulders several times. Two managed to remaindignified even in the face of the torrent of blows, although his face was twisted in pain. F finished with him and released him. “First bathroom privileges go to Four – you’ve lost them,” F said, looking down on Two with an expression of almost orgasmic satisfaction. Two gazed up at him blearily, panting hard, a little trickle of sweat running down his forehead.
Alex felt a surge of rage. Two was so elegant and refined; it hurt to see him being beaten and humiliated like this. He wasn’t a young man, either, and Alex wondered how much of this treatment he could withstand. Shakily, Two got to his feet and rubbed the sweat away with his arm. Alex took a step toward him, but Two shook his head.
“I’m fine,” he said croakily.
“You have one and a half hours to use the bathroom and tidy the dorm,” F announced to the room. “It’d better be spotless when I get back.”
He put his hand on Alex’s shoulder, shoving him out of the room and along the corridor towards the gym.
“Don’t the others have to do a workout?” Alex asked.
“Nope. Just you. Aren’t you the lucky one?” F grinned. “Houder’s orders – we have to keep you looking pretty for him. Likes to fuck you, does he? I’d fuck you all the time if you were mine, and I’m not even all that into blokes.”
“Aw, that’s so flattering – who said romance was dead?” Alex drawled, and he didn’t even care when F slapped his head in response.
He had a chance to relieve himself in the gym bathroom, and found his exercise clothes waiting for him there. After a tedious hour with E barking orders, he was returned to the dorm. The other men had finished washing and dressing and were busy making their beds.
“You’ve got five minutes,” F ordered, shoving Alex into the bathroom.
F was right – being last in line to use the shower meant the hot water was all gone, so Alex suffered another cold shower. He looked at himself in the mirror when he got out, trying to find himself in the man staring back.
Who are you?
It was important that he asked himself this question every day, but he wished he had the photos. They helped him know the answer. Without them, he was afraid of standing here one day and not recognising himself. It took a moment, but finally he found himself in the memory of standing up to F and protecting Two, even if it had been futile. Alexander Lytton: thief, liar, junkie… and loyal friend. That’s who he was.
He wrapped a towel around himself and returned to the dorm to find C waiting for him.
“Just checking up on your recent, uh, ironing injury,” C said loudly, glancing over his shoulder as F escorted the men to breakfast. F closed the door behind them, leaving Alex alone with the doctor.