Chapters (88)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dear Reader …
- Also by Robert Muchamore
- PART ONE
- Walter J Freeman Adolescent Mental Health Unit – East Grinstead, UK
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- PART TWO
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- PART THREE
- Walter J. Freeman Adolescent Mental Health Unit – East Grinstead, UK
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- PART FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- EPILOGUE
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- Have you read KILLER T?
- 1 SLASHED RUBBER
- 2 NOT HARRY POTTER
The rain was no better when Julius got to Leicester Square, so he headed into a cinema. The movie was the latest version of the one he’d seen a hundred times, with the superhero discovering his powers, finding his nemesis, saving the world in a computer-generated action sequence that went on twenty minutes too long and ending inexplicably with a man-to-man fist fight where all their superpowers stopped working.
It was the VIP screen, with leather recliners and a waitress who brought steak nachos and chocolate milkshake an hour into the movie. His clothes were dry and the rain had paused when he stepped out into early-evening dark.
The cinema exit was at the side of the building and he accidentally walked the wrong way into Soho. He’d read about London’s gay scene online and felt curious as he lugged his shopping past a bar filled with an after-work crowd.
There were guys holding hands across a rain-spattered table, shop windows with kinky leather masks and whips on display. The road was damp and neon signs reflected off the puddles as he looked through the doors of another busy bar.
Strictly 18+
ID checks in operation.
Julius was taller than most adults and thought about stepping inside. Would he get asked for ID? Would guys hit on him? And if they did, what kind? The hot Latin guy in the black muscle vest, or the seedy dandruff guy, bulging out of his suit at the bar?
The pavement was barely wide enough for two people to pass and he got scowled at by two hand-holding women who had to shuffle around him into the road. A few steps later, a bodybuilder type with a Ghanaian accent said, ‘Oooh, young and fresh.’ Julius thought the guy was talking to him, but when he looked behind, he realised the man was talking into a phone.
It felt exciting seeing a place where people being gay wasn’t a big deal. But Julius’s excitement was tempered by a sense that he didn’t fit in. He might have been the tallest man in the narrow street, but he was also the youngest. He stood out, just as Matt would have done if he’d tried to pull women in their twenties and thirties after a day at the office.
Three drunk women were getting out of a cab fifty metres up the street. Julius got this weird tight-chested feeling, like the whole world was looking at him. His shopping rattled as he charged for the parked taxi as if it was the last lifeboat on a sinking ship.
He got the usual wary look from the driver as he jumped through the open passenger door.
‘St Crispin’s Square, Chelsea,’ Julius said, digging a couple of rolled twenties from his trouser pocket and flapping them. ‘Yes, I have money.’
‘We get knocked a lot by young fellas,’ the driver said apologetically.