I sit at the table, trying not to listen to the bird-song, which I can hear over the wind and thrum of the tumble dryer. She’s so loud and insistent for such a tiny thing. I know, I know, I get it, birdie, but shut the fuck up, will ya? I’ll try again when I’ve a better plan of action, a clearer course to steer.

Ling walks in, and in silence she pours herself a bowl of Snap, Crackle and Pop. Down the hatch, then another bowl and another. Where does she put it? She’s a teeny little popsicle herself.

Eventually, she speaks. ‘Your friend get us killed. She no try run away again.’

I tell her Nico was not trying to run away, she just needed to run.

Ling shrugs. ‘Tell her not do it again. That man … he no good.’

‘I’m not her keeper,’ I say.

We’ll have to set up a track in our bedroom, do a circuit: push-ups, stomach crunches, bicycles, squats, star jumps, tuck jumps. I’ll have to design a super hard routine for Ms Olympics. It won’t kill the urge to run outside in the elements though. That high is completely different to the one you get from being cooped-up inside.

Ping!

Ling drops her spoon, and milk and Krispies go flying into the air.

‘It’s only the dryer,’ I say, feeling a hundred years old. The sisters walk in then and watch as I take the sheets out of the machine.

‘Pissed myself,’ I say, grinning, then I squat onto the ground and make a peeing sound. None of the girls laugh. I look at the clock on the wall: 10 a.m. In less than twelve hours we’ll be doing it all over again.

I’m kicked in the guts and bend double. Just what did those bastards do in that room when I was out cold? I haven’t let myself admit it before now, but I’m raw inside and there’s a dragging sensation deep in my stomach. They inserted something. Ah so, I’m good to go, although it doesn’t seem possible; I don’t think my body will allow it.

35. Nico

35

Nico

In spite of my terror of falling into the well, I cannot stay awake. I do not know if I dream at all, I’m that tired; I just fall into a blank place. The only sensation is of being covered in darkness.

When I wake I have no idea of the time, or where I am, or who I am, until I see Sammy sitting by the window reading the ‘crap’ book.

‘Hello, princess,’ she says, ‘this is really giving me the creeps.’

I push the quilt off me, glad to find that I can move, then I swing my legs round to sitting, and place my feet on the soft carpet. My head feels dizzy.