All she wanted to do now was sleep, though. He took her over to the platform and pointed at the bed. She was too tired to do anything but curl up in it under a pile of sleeping bags.

She slept well, untroubled by any nightmares, but woke up in the early morning, screaming at the light.

Chapter 4

4

For the next few days Ella felt like she’d gone mad, as if a demon or something had taken over her body and she was like a tiny pilot sitting inside her head, watching what was happening. Her body was acting without her telling it to. First there was the screaming. It felt like there was a massive weight pressing down on her chest, suffocating her; she was gasping for breath, and as she tried to breathe she screamed, her body shaking in the bed, soaking wet from sweat. Mad. Hours spent just screaming. It reminded her of an episode of The Simpsons where Homer can’t stop screaming and he doesn’t know why. Turns out it’s to do with a dead body.

Just one.

What did he have to worry about?

There were nasty dark thoughts hiding at the edges of her brain. She was making herself not think about them, but a part of her, a hidden part, must be looking …

And screaming.

In the end she was too exhausted to scream any more and fell into a feverish half-world, not awake and not asleep, only dimly aware of what was happening around her, the coming and going of Scarface as he brought food and water. She didn’t always know what it was she was eating, but most of it was warm and always made her feel a little better.

Except when she was sick. How many times did that happen? She wasn’t sure. Wasn’t sure of anything. Her body was carrying on without her. Nights came and went; days came and went. Some days it rained; other days it was sunny. Eventually a numbness came on her and at last one morning she was able to sit up. Weak, a little fuzzy in the head, a little shaky.

Scarface was sitting on the edge of the platform with his back to her. There was a light drizzle hanging in the air and the day felt grey and misty, not all there.

She needed a wee and she thought of Monkey-Boy, back at the hotel, too scared to get out of bed. He was just a memory now. She couldn’t let him be real.