BooksBarbecue
Back Rabbit Hole
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

A quick hit would be lovely, and there’s never any harm in trying, is there? I don’t think she’d dob me in just for asking. Truth is, the evil bastards aren’t the only ones that can wear masks, and these past few months I’ve mastered quite a few useful expressions that I can plaster on pretty quick when the situation calls for it.

Shame-faced, aggrieved, dangerous, sad, desperate, untroubled . . .

Now, I do my best to look . . . winsome.

‘I don’t suppose you fancy taking a walk for five minutes?’

Malaika grins and lays a hand in my arm. She says, ‘Don’t push your luck.’

THIRTY-SIX

THIRTY-SIX

It’s quarter-past three in the morning, I’m wide awake and there’s blood everywhere.

Or there was . . .

I lie in bed and wait for my heart rate to slow a little, then try to regulate my breathing, the way I was taught after this happened the first time. Long breath in through the nose, count to three, then slowly out through pursed lips. It’s hard to focus because someone’s shouting along the corridor.

I take another long breath in . . .

Early on, I said that I didn’t believe the recreational drugs I’d been taking before I got sectioned were the only thing responsible for me ending up here, and I stand by that. Equally, now that I’m clean-and-sober-ish, I don’t think the drugs I’m being fed by doctors four times a day – the good drugs – are the only reason for what’s happening right this minute. What’s been happening, on and off, ever since I got here.

Something’s messing with my head, though.

Awake or asleep, there’s something directing this horror show.

I let the breath slowly out again.

That’s one of the problems. Whenever this happens, I’m never sure if it’s a dream or not. I mean, I know it’s not real . . . but when it ends, I don’t know if I’ve woken up or if I was awake the whole time and it’s only stopped because my brain’s decided it wants to go somewhere a bit less scary for a while. Like a circuit breaker tripping when the current gets unsafe.

Three-two-one . . . you’re back in the room.