Page 88 of The Player
“I need a wee,” I said, jumping on the spot and holding my crotch to stop it from leaking out.
“No one leaves until morning. Pee out the window,” he snapped, pushing my arm to try and force me to move away from him.
“But I don’t want to pee out of the window. I need to go,” I whined, but he had no sympathy. He wouldn’t budge.
“You’re not leaving, and I won’t move.”
“Then I’ll climb over you,” I said defiantly, kneeling and clambering onto his bed that was blocking the door.
“Get off my fucking bed,” he whisper-yelled, forcing me off. Then he huffed and pulled himself up to sit on his bed. “Fine. If you want to go, go. It’s your funeral.”
He stood up and pushed his bed back towards the wall to free up the doorway.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he rasped, folding his arms and standing over me like the centurions I’d seen in my school books.
“I won’t be long,” I assured him, but he shook his head.
“The minute you leave this room,” he said, pointing at the door. “There’s no getting back in. I’ll be pushing my bed back in place and you’ll have to find somewhere else to sleep.”
“But why?”
“Because your piss isn’t worth any of us getting caught. Understood?”
“No.” I frowned. He was being an asshole for the sake of it. Nothing he said made any sense to me. I glanced back at Frankie, fast asleep in his bed next to mine. “I need to get back in for my brother. If he wakes up and I’m not here, he’ll scream the house down.”
Obi bit his lip, screwed his eyes shut, and then snapped them open.
“Fine. You have five minutes. But after that, the door stays locked.”
I nodded, relieved that he was finally being fair.
“I’ll be quick,” I shot back.
“And when you come back in, do this knock,” Obi stated, doing a special knock on the wooden post on his bed. He raised his brows at me when he finished and said, “Go on then. Chop chop.”
I grabbed the door handle and he whispered, “Don’t flush the fucking chain. The quieter you are, the better.” I gave him a nod and opened the door, closing it carefully behind me as I stood in the dark hallway.
I crept along the corridor as slowly and quietly as I could, and when I passed other dorms, I could hear arguing and noise coming from inside that made me question why Obi had insisted I was silent. The other boys here weren’t being quiet. But I did what I was told.
I had to walk quite a long way through the corridors to get to the toilet. But I managed to find it, get inside, do my pee and then as I went to push the flush down, I remembered and left the pee in the toilet unflushed and turned to leave.
I stood outside the toilet, and for a moment, I’d forgotten which way I’d come. But ahead, I could see a light, so I walked towards it, confident that it’d lead me back to my dorm.
The light led me to the end of the corridor, but it wasn’t where my room was. Here, there was a winding staircase and the light shone from below. I felt curious. I wanted to know what was at the bottom of those stairs. I liked spiral staircases. They always took you to magical places when you saw them on TV, so I wanted to explore and see where this one led. I’d never seen this staircase in all the time I’d been here. I still had a few minutes to spare before Obi’s stupid five-minute curfew, so I had time to take a peek.
I gripped the metal handrail and crept down each step slowly. My feet only just fit on the narrow steps, and as I sunk deeper into the room this staircase was leading me into, I saw a few men standing around, laughing and talking quietly. I recognised Harold, the cake guy, leaning against the brick wall, grinning at the others, but I didn’t know who else was there. They all had their backs to me.
I decided not to go down any further, but I wanted to listen to what they were saying and watch them. So, I crouched down and peered through the railings. And then I saw who was in the middle of the room and my body froze. My skin went all prickly and my insides felt like my mum’s washing machine when it went on a crazy fast cycle. I felt sick.
Zye was bent over some kind of wooden table, and there were leather straps like a belt around his wrists, holding him in place. The men’s voices were muffled. I couldn’t hear them, but the whooshing sound in my ears didn’t help. One of the men with his back to me, picked up a whip like the ones they use on horses, and in that moment, I saw Zye lift his head slightly and he saw me.
His eyes widened, and I could see the panic on his face.
He mouthed the word ‘go’ to me, but I couldn’t move.
I felt paralysed.
The man lifted the whip and then brought it down hard on Zye, and when the man stepped to the side, lifting the whip high again, I saw that Zye had nothing on, only a T-shirt. The sick feeling in my stomach grew stronger and I was scared I might wretch and they’d catch me spying on them. I wanted to help Zye, call out and make them stop, but if they caught me and strapped me down too, who would protect Frankie?
