The two sisters freeze, their bodies like Mama’s at the end, emptied and stiff. They walk out of the room slowly and carefully as if they might break. I want to follow them out and say, ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it’, but no amount of sorrys will make up for what I’ve just done.

We are all silent until Sammy puts on the radio and turns up the volume. A voice that could be a man or a woman sings about a lost love: ‘Won’t you stay with me … ?’

Sammy calls it ‘soppy shit’ and turns a dial that changes the music. This time it has loud beats and harsh edges, exactly the same noise the men in the van played. My body reverberates sickly as Sammy starts to dance around the wet floor. Her feet stamp and her body rocks, her head banging against the air. I am surprised she would let us see this. I would not want anyone to see me shaking my head, even though it would help me clear the vicious thoughts. I wonder why she is so full of dance. I wonder how her body is able, after last night.

‘Come on, ladies,’ she shouts at the room. ‘Come on, headbanger,’ to me, ‘you know you want to!’

No one moves.

She jumps, twists, shouts, stamps, oblivious.

I feel a strange and strong desire to push her out of her happy place, make her tumble far below, push her in a barrel and hear her squeal. Maybe those men last night were bats of the night and I was bitten, infected. The cruel voices inside my head do not belong to me.

32. Sammy

32

Sammy

Even though I’m sore as hell, I’m possessed by a crazy energy this morning – capable of murdering someone, setting the place on fire, cutting myself to shreds with the kitchen knife, or maybe chopping Taxi Joe into little bits of lard and swirling him about in the pan.

There’s a roaring inside me, a relentless revving, like someone put the pedal flat to the floor, in a stationary car. A blurred image from last night is hovering just behind my eyes. Five of them. Dance, Monkey, Dance.

Nico looks like she hasn’t slept a wink. Her stomach is gurgling, which I guess is a good sign; she’s hungry, it’s all still working in there. ‘Come on, brekkie?’