He sat cross-legged, eyes closed, the backs of his wrists on his knees, palms turned up. Keeping his heart rate low.

Shapes and colours swam, merging and splitting over and over in the blackness behind his eyelids, mirroring the chaotic thoughts that seemed to grow inside him with each passing day. Thoughts that ensnared him.

Thoughts he was trying to stop.

Don’t panic. Soon you’ll be free.

He opened his eyes. He was in the centre of the tiny front room. The floor around him was clear, aside from rough patches of blackened rubber left by whatever cheap carpet had once been laid, but the walls carried remnants of the last occupant. Two pictures hung near the ceiling to his right, fading photographs of a long-forgotten wedding. And on the other side of the room, the wooden surround hung awkwardly from a smashed pendulum clock.

His gaze came to rest on the cross nailed above the door.

Behind him, the daylight flooding through the window picked out the storm of dust particles that swirled in the air.

He had just started thinking about how much longer he should wait when he heard a timid voice from out in the hall.

‘Hello?’

‘Yes?’ He started getting to his feet as footsteps crunched through the kitchen, and his visitor appeared in the doorway.

The kid had come after all.

‘Sorry I’m late.’ The younger man hesitated, apparently reluctant to enter the room. ‘It took me a while to find the address.’

‘No problem,’ he said. ‘Come in.’

The kid stepped forwards, shoulders hunched, visibly trying not to touch anything.

He appraised the young man who had introduced himself as Glenn. He was slim and healthy-looking, but he moved with the same hesitance that had marked him out the night before.

A perfect specimen.

He watched him wander across to the window, treading carefully to avoid sullying his brightly coloured trainers. During their conversation the previous night, the kid had mentioned friends and family members who would care if something happened to him.

But if things went to plan, no one was going to miss him.

‘I thought I had the wrong address at first.’ Glenn looked up at the dirty beams that had once supported a ceiling, before turning back. ‘Do you live here?’

‘No.’

The kid looked relieved. ‘What is this place?’

He frowned, irritated by the question. The row of abandoned cottages had taken him weeks to find. And he wasn’t about to delay because Snow White objected to his choice of venue.

He moved closer, feigning reassurance. ‘It’s like I said, this isn’t about how the place looks. There’s a lot more at play here than that.’

Glenn turned fully towards him, his expression serious now. ‘Have you used it before?’

‘That doesn’t matter. Do you want to do this or not?’

The kid studied the large black holdall in the corner. ‘Yes.’