Prologue
A shrapnel of rib bone pierces the thin, slippery membrane of his right lung. Yellow pus, carrying the pungent stench of rotten meat, leaks from the broken and infected skin on his back. The jagged rusted spring from the mattress has embedded itself just below his shoulder blade.
Distorted voices drift in and out as though someone is messing about with the volume on a cheap radio. He screams, but there is no sound. The parched muscles of his throat have trapped the broken notes of distress.
‘You need to stop.’
‘What the fuck are you doing? I told you to stop.’
His body contorts, his toes stiffen, and the blisters burst as scalding heat spreads across the bottom of the feet. The rope tightens and cuts further into the exposed flesh on his wrists. Blue veins push and glow against the translucent skin as his blood struggles to flow freely.
Heavy footsteps make their way towards him. He painfully turns his head towards the wall.
‘What are we going to do? We can’t… what are we—’
‘Stop talking.’
Seven words are on repeat in his head. I don’t want to die. Please stop.
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