BooksBarbecue
Back Rabbit Hole Save as PDF
Chapters (73)
  1. Rabbit Hole
  2. Also by Mark Billingham
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. Preface
  8. PART ONE
  9. ONE
  10. TWO
  11. THREE
  12. FOUR
  13. FIVE
  14. SIX
  15. SEVEN
  16. EIGHT
  17. NINE
  18. TEN
  19. ELEVEN
  20. TWELVE
  21. THIRTEEN
  22. FOURTEEN
  23. FIFTEEN
  24. SIXTEEN
  25. SEVENTEEN
  26. EIGHTEEN
  27. NINETEEN
  28. TWENTY
  29. TWENTY-ONE
  30. TWENTY-TWO
  31. TWENTY-THREE
  32. TWENTY-FOUR
  33. TWENTY-FIVE
  34. TWENTY-SIX
  35. TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. TWENTY-NINE
  38. THIRTY
  39. THIRTY-ONE
  40. THIRTY-TWO
  41. THIRTY-THREE
  42. PART TWO
  43. THIRTY-FOUR
  44. THIRTY-FIVE
  45. THIRTY-SIX
  46. THIRTY-SEVEN
  47. THIRTY-EIGHT
  48. THIRTY-NINE
  49. FORTY
  50. FORTY-ONE
  51. FORTY-TWO
  52. FORTY-THREE
  53. FORTY-FOUR
  54. FORTY-FIVE
  55. FORTY-SIX
  56. FORTY-SEVEN
  57. FORTY-EIGHT
  58. FORTY-NINE
  59. FIFTY
  60. FIFTY-ONE
  61. FIFTY-TWO
  62. FIFTY-THREE
  63. FIFTY-FOUR
  64. FIFTY-FIVE
  65. FIFTY-SIX
  66. FIFTY-SEVEN
  67. FIFTY-EIGHT
  68. PART THREE
  69. FIFTY-NINE
  70. SIXTY
  71. EPILOGUE
  72. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  73. Back Cover

Killing yourself in here is actually incredibly difficult and you won’t be surprised to hear that’s because it’s supposed to be. If you’re deemed to be at risk, then they tend to keep an eye on you, like all the time. Plus, you’re permanently denied anything you might be able to hurt yourself with, and even when you first come in, when you’re getting the measure of the place and the staff are getting the measure of you, they take away anything they class as risky.

That first night, once I’d stopped wailing and trying to kick whichever nurse was daft enough to get close, they took away all sorts.

My trainers (laces, right?).

My belt (OK).

Nail scissors (fair enough).

Tweezers (annoying).

A bra with under-wiring (taking the piss).

They confiscate your phone, too, and God knows how anyone is supposed to kill themselves with a Samsung. Maybe they’re worried you might choke yourself with it, or call a hitman to come and do the job for you, but to be fair, unless there’s some specific reason not to, they do give it back within a couple of days.

I mean, thank Christ, right?

If I wasn’t allowed my phone, I think I might actually want to kill myself.

‘So, what do you think happened, Al?’ L-Plate asked.

I didn’t tell her what I thought because, to be honest, I was scared as much as anything. I was excited, don’t get me wrong, all those professional instincts starting to kick in, but I was . . . wary. Right then, with a body cooling just yards away, it was no more than a feeling and I try to steer clear of those, with good reason. Eighteen months before, I’d had a feeling that the crack-head who’d invited us in to his flat on the Mile End Road was harmless. If it hadn’t been for that, there wouldn’t have been any PTSD or any need for the variety of things I poured and snorted and popped into my body to numb that pain. I would not have ended up thinking that the people I loved most in the world were trying to kill me or that strangers could read my mind. I would not have hurt anyone.

Looking at L-Plate, I could feel myself starting to shake a little. I tried to smile and shoved my hands beneath my thighs so she wouldn’t see.

I said, ‘I really don’t know.’

It was a feeling that put me in here.

FOUR

FOUR