Least in prison they pay for the fucking dentist. Probably not right away, but. Probably he’d have to spend hours at the station, maybe get sent home anyway, seen for what he is: a pathetic non-man, so broke and useless he’s resorted to swiping his injured aunty’s medication.

Concentrating hard, he managed to get up on his knees and then, after a minute or so, to stand. When he’d done that long enough that it felt safe he walked very slowly to a bus stop he’d spotted from the ground. Not far, but he didn’t trust his legs and the traffic kept whizzing past, reminding him how close it was. How close he was.

Hours later when he’d got to the dentist alive and his mouth had been anaesthetised and the tooth pulled and he’d taken a proper dose of painkillers prescribed just for him and sculled a cup of lukewarm pumpkin soup from a 7-Eleven across from the dentist, when he felt more grateful even than the night he’d met Mercy, more relieved than the day he was released from prison, then he remembered the video.

Anton had thought he’d want to know but he didn’t. Hated knowing. Knowing meant he had to do something about it and he had no fucking idea what that something might be.

Mum would know what to do. But Mum could never find out. Mum who had worked herself to the bone making sure her kids had a better life than her only to have one of them end up in prison at the age of eighteen anyway. Never, ever, could she find out about this. It would be the end of her.

Dad … What would Dad do? As usual it was a puzzle with too many pieces missing. He knew that Dad had watched porn; he’d asked Will to help him clear his computer history and cache not long before he died. Hate to ask but best spare your mum, he’d said. Will didn’t try to see what his dad had been into, just showed him how to click, click, click here here here to get rid of every trace. Sometimes when Will had a wank he’d get distracted by wondering what would happen if he had a heart attack and died before he could delete his browsing history. Mercy wasn’t anti-porn, but as with her coffee and eggs and meat and clothing she needed a lot of information about its origins and who was being paid how much at every point of the supply chain.

What did he know about the supply chain of this piece of horror? Amateur, obviously, so chances are no one got paid. Did the performers consent? Did the performers even know they were performers? The pubeless wonder clearly did, given the nasty little scoring skit, but Lena probably didn’t. Would’ve hidden her arm as well as her face.