Subterraneans

Christie. It frustrates me, the way I'm unsure whether or not I meant all of what I did back in England. It may always be a miniscule irritation at the back of my mind, but things are different now and I've always prided myself on being able to let go of the irrelevant details. England is most definitely irrelevant. I adore living with somebody who despises me so, Germany is so entirely the best place for me to be. A whole new spectrum of people to know, to find, to discover and to manipulate. I don't care for the future, we're all dying anyway.

Weeping Wall II

Anne. In the hospital everything has been claustrophobic chaos for at least twenty minutes. Which is when I got here, so I can only try to keep from imagining what it was like before I arrived. Shirley has a clone, I find out, called Sally-Ann. Interesting. We're shown to a small crowd of people, just the miscreants I recall from the big happening earlier on, and given looks of intense disapproval as Shirley's voice rises in panic by the nurses when she starts talking to Anton.
What's happened now is that the Shirley clone has a letter from someone called Hanne, who I gather was living with Cassie and is now apparently in Germany, having taken Christie hostage.
This makes things interesting. What I've gathered is that Hanne understands that Christie is an amateur supervillain and has taken him away for our safety. I'd be worried about her, but I don't know her, and Yves, the guy who at one point earlier on looked like he was dreaming of tearing me to shreds with a chainsaw but appears to have forgiven me quietly told me that there's never a reason to worry about Hanne.
I sort of understand what he means. I probably don't need to have met Hanne to understand what she's like if someone who knows Christie says she could deal with Christie. I probably would prefer to not meet her.
I find it very hard to put my finger on what I'm feeling right now. There's relief that Christie is not coming back, but it's not in any way linked with any form of resentment towards him. I still can't find the strength to hate him for all of this because I never cared enough in the first place. In my eyes he's simply made literal all I've felt towards any other man who's slept with me. He left, he came back, he destroyed everything- stealing, burning, attacking and lying, and now he's left again. And this time he won't come back. Which is the nice part, in my opinion.
It's too much of my imagination for me to relate to, I can't put myself into this situation in a human way, I'm...incapable.
I reach into my pocket and finger the small card that's still there.
'You're welcome. C.Stone.'
He thought he knew everything. I admire the wit of it, for anyone else he might have been right, he might have been able to change them by all the damage he did. For me, although he saw through me instantly, figuring out everything that no one else ever did, it still wasn't enough to cause an impact. I know my faults already. I know there's nothing, I know I can't find the strength to care about anything. And he didn't fix me. He thought he could, he was perfectly aware that he had me all worked out- but there are some things even he can't solve. It's impossible to change a person like me. I don't know if there are any other people like me- though I've no doubt that they must exist. The question washes through me every now and then; I have never let on to anyone else how I am inside, how I see everything, so it's only reasonable that there are others like me out there. Maybe people I know, maybe people I've always known. Maybe everyone. Maybe everyone is lying.
So Christie failed, with whatever he attempted to do to me. This theory is of course based on the premise that he cared enough himself in the first place. It would seem, to any rational outsider that his motives for finding me were just to use me as an aide and an ally in his masterplan, but he could have used anyone. And the business cards, of course. It all adds up, but it wouldn't make a difference to me if it didn't.
I've stopped listening to the panic-stricken cacophony around me. It blurs into an incomprehendible dialect relevant only to those who care about the people involved. The only person who doesn't speak is Gabriel, and he looks dark enough for me to know it wouldn't be avoiding confrontation to go and speak to him.
Anton is very animated for a person who's recently been almost blown up. That's a relief, really, that he's got his voice back. I was quite fond of his cynicism around Christie that night all those weeks ago.
We're still outside the hospital room where Cassie is, so I decide to quietly ask a nurse if I can go in and see her. I'm no longer required to provide a comforting shoulder for Shirley, so I'd like to make an exit- however this exit will mean I'll never see these people again, so it would probably be nice to go and say goodbye to the only person who's ever displayed any real understanding or humanity towards me.
Past a truly abominable pastel mint curtain made of the worst type of plastic ever to be created, Cassie sits on the edge of a bed looking distinctly out of place and unusual with no make up on and her hair pinned back to allow for the surgical dressing on her forehead.
This seems a little more real to me.
-Anne! Oh, how lovely to see you. Are you okay?
She's honestly asking me that?
-Yes, I'm absolutely fine, but look at you...what did he do to you...
-It wasn't Christie.
Her huge eyes widen to a size unnatural for her species for the emphasis on these words.
-It wasn't? Who was it then?
-Someone working for Christie. I don't know who he was, Anton came and tried to help me but Christie came in and they both took Anton away. It was ages until Gabriel came, then you were there all the time after that. I don't remember anything after that anyway. I heard someone outside talking about an explosion...maybe that was something else.
I give a grim laugh which is the only noise that could convey the absurdity of this situation.
-No, that was Christie too. He tied up Anton and then something went off inside, we don't know what. You know what's crazy? None of this is being treated as suspicious.
-Wait, Anton? Is he alright? Christ...no one's told me anything...
-Yes, he's fine. He's outside, making jokes about explosives, of course. Christie's buggered off to Germany...with Hanne.
-Hanne?!
She jumps up in alarm and I follow her darting out the room, a nurse turning round maybe three minutes too late.
The noise outside rises as Cassie appears in their midst, I watch from the doorway as everyone asks lots of questions, preventing anyone from getting answers. Madness. I think I'm going to leave.

Yves. Cassie has escaped from her bed and is asking lots of questions. Sally-Ann hands her the letter which is addressed mostly to Cassie and we all grow silent as she reads, her expression fluctuating from confusion to sadness to joy, finally to blankness.
-He's gone?
-Yes.
-He'll stay away?
-You know Hanne better than us, Cassie, but I'm pretty sure that's a yes.
-Good.
She leaves with no explanation, rushing after the girl who was somehow involved as she merges into the crowd at the bottom of the hall.
We all watch her in silence, she's probably not coming back. Sally-Ann is the first to speak.
-I suppose that's it then. Our cue to leave.
It should seem inconclusive, but as I register the state of everyone around I realise we're all pretty much unscathed. Anton is back to his usual self, or he will be with a bit of hairspray, Sally-Ann and Shirley have each other and will be fine, Cassie's alive, that girl seems fine and so am I, Gabriel is...almost fine.
Shirley takes Anton with her and Sally-Ann and they go, promising to see us both as soon as possible. Gabriel nods blankly in response.
I tug at his arm to leave, because I'm sure this much exposure to flourescent lighting is doing us worlds of harm.
The fresh air is instantly numbing but it's nice to be breathing normally again. It's totally dark now which doesn't tell me exactly what time it is but I'm quite sure we've spent far too long in a state of mild to intense distress. Mercifully, there are plenty of taxis outside so we're not outside for very long at all.
When we get back to the flat I take Gabriel up to his place because it seems like a better idea. He hasn't said anything to me and goes straight to the chair when we get in.
It's rumoured that the act of actually making tea can make the average Briton feel instantly more relaxed and comforted, so I choose to do this now. I often find myself choosing to do this.
I place the cups on the prettily decorated glass table and opt for climbing onto Gabriel's lap because it's far too cold to sit on the sofa alone. It's clearly the only logical option, is what I try to communicate with my face while I secretly experience a huge rush of affection for the way I'm entitled to this, to entirely possessing something so beautiful and valuable and now, apparently, breakable- my hand through his black hair provokes a kind of sad noise, but I'm sure I can make him better again, make him like he was before.
I know he's sad because of what Christie did and how he didn't magically tell the future and know everything for once. I wonder if he's disgusted at the idea that Christie could have outsmarted him in some way. Angry that Christie used humans as a message directed pretty pointedly at him- although it was at me, too, and I don't feel this bad. I worry that I'm too distant from the situation, that maybe I'm to blame aswelll- but I can't think like that.
I understand, I'm quite sure, why Gabriel would be upset, but that can't stop me asking.
-He's gone, Gabriel. It's all over now, what's wrong?
-How can you not see what's wrong, Yves?
He sounds disappointed and surprised, which sort of catches me off-guard.
-I- of course I see what's wrong with all of this, Gabriel, but you, it's like you blame yourself instead of him...
-Well maybe that's because it's the logical explanation! He did this because of me, because of you, because he knows now, because he always knows everyone's weakness and now he knows mine. I gave him that satisfaction, Yves, I wanted to. Well, I didn't try and hide it...you.
-Me?
-Obviously.
-Obviously...of course.
I get the feeling this is when I should be having some kind of revelation, that this is the part where I'm supposed to understand everything- Not happening.
-No...no. I still don't get it. Sorry.
-You, Yves. Do you know how it was before you got here? He was on a mission, a mission to make sure I never felt anything, I was just attatched, I was just his, but you- he knows he went wrong. He didn't expect me to fall in love with you.
Oh. I see. Obviously...


Anne. Cassie caught up with me at the entrance. She hugged me and told me that there was nothing wrong with me. I told her I never thought there was, and she told me that she knew I was a good liar. I saw her in the most raw kind of light, I saw that it wasn't the costume that brought the sparkle to her persona. I understood that this was something I could learn to allow myself to care about. The rest of them left and I watched them disperse into the night, knowing they'd be burdened by worries I was burdened by not being able to feel. She left, eventually, saying she'd see me again but promised not to break into my house. I agreed to coffee quickly but she told me she wasn't one of my friends and that I didn't have to do that. I was wrong about Christie understanding, because I didn't understand myself. Now I am here, at the big window I rarely see for the heavy curtains and though the city looks as ancient as ever, I remind myself of every possibility it could hold.
Christie cleaned me out of chemicals, it's only a bus ride away but I'm on a mission to quit hypocrisy. I watch pigeons, I watch housewives considering the end, I watch smokers converge and businessmen cry. I watch all the people that could be just the same as me, it's not comforting but it's interesting.
I think, I hope, I can get on with life now.

Yves. Gabriel had clapped his hand to his mouth when he said that. His automatic reaction was to cast icy eyes on me, attempting to blame me for who knows what but I think even he recognised the futility of that. I told him I didn't care what he thought and that I love him, quite by accident. He told me we should never ever talk about emotions again, as a general rule, then we went to his room and listened to the city outside, grateful for the rest, grateful for the space, the life, the fact that neither of us are alone and I thought about how maybe Christie went wrong for being so alone. It was an odd thought, I felt sorry for him. Then I forgot about him because he is part of my past now, so I kissed Gabriel and considered the beginning of the future once again.

Weeping Wall

Yves. Several phonecalls after we left the house, we're outside the hospital. We walk up the sweeping driveway littered with people smoking, people crying, people talking, people waiting, people looking generally dreadful and I'm really quite glad that we're not planning to be here for an extended time period.
Hanne has been told that we have to meet at the hospital- I told her. It was a particularly nasty telephone conversation to have to make, explaining on the day she planned to leave us all behind that the reason none of us were there to say goodbye was because her best friend has been attacked and another of us has had someone attempt to blow them up, inside Gabriel's studio. It's all very weird and I have to put my voice on auto-pilot as I reel off key information to the questions she's firing at me sharply, pausing like she's taking notes, her tone, as usual, betraying no emotion. I don't want to think about what I've seen today so I make my replies as dead-sounding as possible, making sure I get everything across without underemphasising or overemphasising anything. This is why I like Hanne, she's practical and reasonable. Two traits that I definitely lack.
I take a deep breath as we approach the automatic doors, because on the other side lies that inevitable rush of chemical-scented air that will bring a nausea unparalleled by the effects of any other space in which to enter. I'm the one who's now grateful for the company, grateful for Gabriel to be still holding my hand because I'm pretty sure that the hospital feeling is universal. The way in which it reminds me of my old town's hospital is probably only so offensive because this is the first time I've been reminded of any aspect of my old life. I quiet my thoughts with remembering that I'm only here to visit, which makes me luckier than most people here.
We're soon pointed down a shiny corridor in pastel teal and aluminium grey to where Cassie and Anton should be waiting.
When we get there, Anton is sitting on a chair outside a door drinking something from a polystyrene cup. He grins at us happily, a scratch on his cheek and his hair dreadfully out of its usual obsessively-coiffeured place, but other than that, not too much worse for wear.
-Oh Anton, it's wonderful to see you. How are you?
-Never better.
He reaches his arms out to hug Gabriel which is when I notice the white bandages around his wrists.
-Was there any damage to you? Were you okay?
-Just the scratch...I couldn't speak for a while because of all the smoke but I was barely even burned, which was pretty amazing as far as I'm concerned.
-Your arms...
-Oh yeah, that. Er...a bit sore, but I'll survive.
-Well what happened to them?
-You didn't know? Your darling Christopher-
Gabriel winces slightly even though Anton's not being serious. I kind of understand when his grip on my hand becomes slightly painful.
-...felt the urge to tie me up.
He holds up his wrists in example.
-Tell me, Gabe, did he ever tend to do that when he was with you?
Anton looks expectantly at him as Gabriel's expression becomes a little more pained and the back of his hand flies to his open mouth.
-I'm so sorry, Anton...
-No, don't worry, I'm joking. No lasting damage here. And if there was, don't you dare think it's your fault. Although I know you well enough to be sure that's already ingrained itself in your stupid brain...for god's sake, he's a psycho and no-one knew. What can we do? He's gone now. And we all know what happened. So we can leave it alone.
This is where I cut in.
-Well actually, Anton, we were sort of helping you could help us there. I don't know exactly what happened. Why did he tie you up, why was there an explosion and is Cassie in there?
-Cassie's in there.
-Yeah. Okay, why? Why is Cassie in there?
He coughs.
-I promise I'm not avoiding the question-
He splutters in between chokes. He laughs, I'm pretty glad someone is trying to make light of the situation.
-He tied me up because I knew. Well. I also tried to stop him. I was with Cassie when he came for her at some unholy hour, I was hiding in her wardrobe because I- I'm actually not going to continue that thought, forget I said that, anyway- I followed him because he was so fast I didn't realise what was going on, so he dragged her down there to that building- it's yours, isn't it, Gabe?
Gabriel nods slowly, his eyes wide, neither of us working at the same pace Anton appears to be.
-Yeah, so he took her there, took her upstairs and pushed this guy I didn't know in. The guy started attacking her and I went in to stop him-
He coughs, but I don't think it's from the smoke. When he continues his voice is much quieter, slower, to take everything in.
-It was just completely fucking awful. I just heard her fall over, so I ran in. I ran in and tried to get at the guy, I was picking up the broken glass and kind of charging at him with it, I didn't know what to do. He just ran off, shouting something at Christie about him saying that people wouldn't know...god knows what was going on there. But that's when Christie comes in, walking towards me like he does, saying nothing, all cool and everything- and the next thing I know I'm awake in the downstairs room with my hands tied up. On that broken wooden chair, I felt like some ridiculous scene from a mafia movie or something. So there I was, tied up...and this was actually not that long before you all came along and the commotion started.
He leans back in his chair, looking innapropriately relaxed in the way he clearly wants to very much. He instantly reclaims his filmstar glance, eyes sweeping from the floor to our faces as he considers what to say next.
-The explosion...
-I didn't know what was going on. I'm still not sure if that was actually Christie. In some ways it seems like too much of a coincidence but in others I don't know how he did it if he did. It was kind of lucky, I don't know how long I'd have been in there for otherwise...
-A gas explosion, lucky. Right then.
I decide to abandon logical reasoning at this point because it's not adequate in this particular situation. Anton is most definitely seeing the funny side of things but Gabriel's sense of the absurd has left him pretty speechless currently. He sits down beside Anton, looking iller than he does, and I'm not sure who to be more worried about. Fortunately, a distraction arrives in the form of Sally-Ann, closely followed by Shirley and the girl who had been there earlier...the girl. The girl who lied. I start towards her but the anger must have shown on my face because Shirley holds me back.
-Don't, it wasn't her fault.
-Why would she lie?
-Well, I'd have hoped you out of anyone would be able to empathise with someone else manipulated by a certain friend of ours.
I feel guilty, I should have guessed that. Sally-Ann approaches instead with a piece of paper.
-Everyone, there's been some kind of development.
-Oh?
Anton stands up, Gabriel continues to look stare at the floor. I'm not sure he heard.
-It's...a note. From Hanne.
-Yeah, where is Hanne?
-That's the thing. Hanne's gone.
-Gone?
Anton's blank tone is the voice to everyone's expression.
-She left, yes. It says so on this note, she's gone. It's not that that's worrying me, though.
-Okay...well, it's a shame we missed her. Where is she?
-She went back to Germany. Not that far away...and she left an address.
-What did you say about something worrying?
I don't quite see how everyone dismissed the fact that there was some kind of news mentioned, I wonder what life would be like here without a person present to keep score of the important things.
-Oh yeah...she's with Christie.
-Wait, what? Is she insane? Does she know? Didn't you speak to her, Shirley? You told her, didn't you?
-I thought she was meeting us here.
Shirley looks as surprised as all of us.
-I did, I told her everything that I knew, she was so angry about it...she said she'd be here, when did you find that?
-She left a message on my phone to go to her house, that's where this was. But look, she explains everything here.

Art Decade II

Yves. Everyone has left now. Police came up to us and asked us questions, I didn't have any answers, no one did. The fire went out pretty quickly, the source was supposedly a gas leak- a reasonable conclusion due to the age of the building but as they wheeled him away I saw Anton mouthing 'bullshit' at me. Christie is nowhere and I don't want to think about the real reason for this.
The sun is starting to go down, we've spent all day in this ridiculous situation and it's still freezing. Shirley has taken the girl away and Cassie and Anton have gone with the ambulance. Deciding we've probably watched the outside of the charred building for quite enough time now, I get up, attempting to pull Gabriel with me. I call for a cab at the end of the road and when we're back at my flat he's still holding my hand and hasn't said a word. He sits down on the sofa and proceeds to stare into space.
-Tea?
Turning slowly toward me, he looks as shocked as he should be to hear my voice for the first time in this long.
-Please.
I sit down on the arm chair opposite him and the scene reminds me of the first days I was here, when we'd sit awkwardly on sofas being incredibly grateful to be holding cups as a distraction from the static atmosphere.
-Do you know what happened?
-It depends.
He gives me a sideways look, the first time he's looked at me properly all day.
-How much do you know?
His eyes leave my face and he returns to looking straight ahead. When he speaks it's weirdly monotonous.
-Shirley told me what Christie did to you, I guessed what Christie did to Cassie and I don't think I want to know what Christie did to that girl. I don't know what he did to Anton, either. And I don't know where he is now. Which is a shame, because I do know that I want to hurt him.
I smile at this because I swear there's nothing else to do.
-I know pretty much the same things.
When I close my eyes I can see everything that's unfolded in the past twenty four hours and it physically hurts me.
-I'm so sorry, Gabriel.
-What for?
-Last night with Christie-
-Shirley said it wasn't you.
-I don't see how that- I didn't...I should have known, I shouldn't have even allowed him to touch me, shouldn't have let him speak to me...
-You couldn't have possibly known. If anything it was my fault for not realising he was that...angry, or that insane.
He looks a lot like someone who blames themselves for something right now, staring furiously at his hands around the teacup.
-I..think it's probably healthier for both of us if we just decide it wasn't either of our faults.
Long pause. I like the way Gabriel looks when he's accepting I'm right about something. It's not like he'd ever tell me I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure he has some sort of internal struggle about matters like that. He cocks his head to one side, looking at me, and when the corners of his mouth turn up slightly I feel supremely relieved.
-I agree. Why are you sitting over there?
I don't really get given a chance to give a reason, as he moves to one side of the sofa motioning beside him. In actual fact I'm usually sitting over here, it seems more logical to use the space but as I sit down beside him and he puts down his cup to curl one arm over my shoulders and the other hand in mine I'm pretty sure he feels the need to have me as close as possible right now. His possessive motions in a non-public environment are so well-placed, I can completely understand where he's coming from.
-I hate knowing that Christie even touched you.
-So do I, Gabriel, believe me!
-Sorry, I didn't mean to...
-No, it's fine. You know, we should probably catch up with everyone else quite soon. We should make sure they're all okay. And Hanne...we never said good bye to Hanne. She won't have left yet, will she?
-No, I think there's still time...
-Good, we'll go round there now.
Gabriel doesn't exactly look in a fit state for going out and seeing people, but I want to make sure Hanne sees Cassie before she goes. Or any of us, for that matter. We're pretty much all involved in this stuff by association so it's definitely a bad idea for her to not know about it. As I get up, I see that Gabriel is just watching me, energy gone and a look of strange wondering in his eyes. I kneel down in front of him to take his drained face in my hands.
-We're going out to fix everything. We can make everything fine, how it was before. I promise, we'll go out, we'll come back, and everything will be fine.
-Everything was perfect before. It couldn't have happened any other way, it had to break. He had to destroy it.
He's so worried looking now I'm actually kind of nervous myself. I shake it off, because a section of my house rules of my head tells me that we've got to have at least one stable person present at all times- when that rule is broken, things happen like last night. Which is not good. Because of this, I pull Gabriel's lips to mine, feeling him relax into me, and when I let him go his eyes are still closed. I can't repress the sigh from my voice as I try to pick things up again.
-It doesn't matter if it's not perfect, Gabriel. It will be fine, it will be here, with you, and that's pretty much perfect for me.
That is a truly dreadful thing to ever say out of context but it seemed like what Gabriel needed to hear.
-Yes. Quite. Absolutely. But...never say that again, Yves.
He's laughing, which is a vast improvement. He kisses me, still laughing, finally getting up from the sofa. From the way he leaves me feeling ever so slightly invisible as he walks purposefully towards his coat I'm pretty sure things are back to normal inside his head. It's almost a nice revelation to be having.

Anne. I'm not running from this, I'm just following what I'm pretty sure is a transvestite but introduced his/herself as Shirley home for a cup of tea to calm the nerves, supposedly. I'm convinced that everything that just happened was my imagination because it was simply too odd to watch a fire engine, an ambulance and a police van driving off in tandem from a crime scene that might possibly have been my fault. I desperately miss not caring about anything as I think about how Anton and Cassie looked being taken into the ambulance, Cassie hooked up to various scary-looking things and Anton just looking a complete wreck not quite managing to make actual noises when the police spoke to him but finding the energy to shoot me coolly accusing looks that I should probably just accept.
Shirley is flustered and marching pretty purposefully in front of me, looking up every now and then like a nervous meerkat. She texts someone incessantly when she's not inspecting her surroundings, when her phone actually rings she seems to jump a little but gives an audible sigh of relief as she answers.
-Sal, where are you? I don't know what's going on...Christie, no- no I didn't- I mean, Cassie and Anton, they've gone to the hospital. Should we go to the hospital?
I watch her chew her red laquered fingernail.
-Yes, yes okay. I'll meet you there...can you try and get hold of Hanne? I can't seem to contact- yes, yeah they're fine. They left, they're okay. Yes. Okay, I will. Bye, love.
She turns to me, the look of panic never having left her face for a second. She attempts to repress the expression as she speaks to me, trying to manipulate her face into a smile, but it doesn't quite work, her lipsticked mouth is a wonky line.
-Change of plan...I'm going to the hospital now. Do you want to...to see...
-Do you think it would be appropriate?
-I don't know, I mean...oh god.
She's stifling back tears, it's only now that I realise how this must look from her perspective. She has no context for this entire situation and has just seen her friend after being attacked by who I assume was another of her friends, and yet another friend still choking on smoke from an explosion said friend has got to have orchestrated. On top of this, I've no idea what's going on with Yves and Gabriel who must have had something to do with it all to have ended up in that place at all, never mind for Christie to have specifically instructed me to tell Yves that it was all Gabriel...oh god, the enourmity of it all catches up on me and I almost choke, but Shirley looks a lot more fragile than I so I offer my arm and decide to go with her.
-You could use the company, right?
She nods folornly. I'm pretty grateful she's the kind of person who carries tissues in their handbags because I haven't the first idea what to do with people who cry. I think it's probably best to just continue resolutely onwards and hopefully she'll feel better soon.
-Thanks.
-I'm sure they'll be fine, Cassie and Anton. Anton was pretty much fine, and Cassie's survived more than this.
-That's not what I'm worried about.
Her face hardens, she looks darkly at me.
-What I want to know is why you're here. What does Christopher mean to you? How do you know those two anyway?
I can't help but laugh as I think of the only reasonable way of putting all of this into words.
-Christie broke into my house last month when I was unconscious. He claimed to be saving me and then he got me to help him break into Cassie's flat.
She lets out a very long sigh.
-How unexpected...yet how horribly predictable. Then what?
-Then he made us help him get money off various people and run a lot. That was all in one night, then I didn't see him until yesterday evening.
-Funny, none of us had seen him for a month either.
-So...he just disappeared. Does he...have any hobbies or anything? I mean, do you have any idea what he might have been doing for that time?
-I'm not sure I want to know. That's the thing though, none of us know very much about him. We don't know about any of his 'hobbies'. It's not that unusual for him to apparently vanish off the face of the earth for any amount of time...but what is unusual is the rest of it. It just seems so vicious, so...planned. Like he knew, for that month, that we were all going to be here, you- you. Why were you here today? What did he do last night, why did he make you come here?
-He came to my house and got me to go with him. I was bored, he knew everything about me, I barely thought about it. You have to realise that I had absolutely no idea until this morning what he was actually capable of.
She turns around to me suddenly, stopping walking.
-Then why did you lie?
-What?
-You lied. You lied to Yves, you said it was Gabriel.
-How could you possibly-
-I saw. I saw, Anne, I was watching. Why did you do that? What did he do to you?
I don't think there's much point in lying. I suppose I owe these people some amount of the truth of the situation.
-He offered me money. That was it. Disappointing, yes, but I honestly-
-Honestly what, thought it was worth it?
-I honestly didn't know he was going to do that. He told me nothing, I had no idea what was going on, I told you. I wouldn't have-
-You wouldn't have taken the money?
-No, I mean- yes, I wouldn't have taken the money if I'd known. I was going to say I wouldn't have stayed if I knew what was going on. If I knew what I'd done- come on, would you stay at a crime scene if you knew it was down to you? Would anyone? Did Christie? No. You have to understand, I am not a good person. I don't think I'm an evil person but I'm being as honest as possible when I say that the jury's still out on that one. I didn't intend to cause harm, I didn't want people to get hurt but my motives were boredom and the fiscal reward and for god's sake, him- why do you know him if you think he's easy to resist?
-I never said that. I know what he's-
-Yes, exactly. And this is what I'm like- I had nothing to live for. Fuck, I probably have even less now. That night, after he broke into my house, I found his card-
-'You're welcome', right?
-Yes, that. I did gather that it was probably mass-produced. You've had them in the past?
-Hang on...you didn't...
-What, I didn't what?
-Did you...were you at any point romantically involved with Christie?
At this point she looks me up and down, inspecting my appearance, as if registering my exterior fully for the first time. I suppose the situation didn't allow for her observance, it kind of makes me feel guilty for my own neurotic assessment of every notable characteristic of every person on the scene. I can't help the fact that I'm unused to being affected by things. I can't help the fact that I've learnt how to pick apart every single aspect of my surroundings, animal, mineral, plant- until they're stripped of all but their essence, telling me only what I need to know and nothing else- oh god, I've been taught enough humanity in the last fifteen minutes to understand that this is what panicking sounds like. I can't remember the question.
-What?
-Did you sleep with him?
Her voice is frustrated. I was obviously vacant for longer than I thought, I can only imagine the absurdity of the facial expressions I must have been pulling. She spoke again, I register- oh. Oh wow. That just...I'd just erased it from my mind, and now it comes back, stronger than anything, so strange...when I open my mouth my voice sounds oddly disembodied, like I'm not controlling it, like I'm not thinking for myself.
-Yes...yes, I did...how...
-Business card.
-Oh now that is just...that is just wrong. That is truly, truly terrible- bloody hell, of all the tasteless, conceited things anyone could ever...business cards?
Shirley's expression goes from the looks of disgust I share with her to manically amused. I have to admit, I am too- it's just too strange. It's just too strange and too funny that this person exists, and he has disappeared like some kind of secret agent. Like the criminal he just yearns to be. Ridiculous.
-So where would you say he is now?
-At a guess, I'd say he's watching all of this unfold. Knowing Christie, he's a proper...voyeur. He wouldn't miss this for the world.
-His arrogance dictates it, I assume. He is, afterall, currently in the position of the evil bloody genius having everyone asking questions around him, a perfect little circle trail for the police to follow while he makes his dramatic exit...god, I didn't realise people like this existed.
-They don't. It's just him.
-I mean...and explosion? Really? Intending to kill at least Anton and Cassie, then god knows how many more...you really had no idea?
She sighs in annoyance.
-No, I had no idea. One thing though...I don't think he did intend to kill them. For some reason this looks less like an attempted murder and more like a point to prove. Look at the weakness of the explosion. Look at the fact that Cassie had already been upstairs, conscious, for some time. He didn't exactly torture her, and he didn't appear to have tried to kill her. This makes me think it's more of a message. And you never said, what did he tell you to say, what where his exact words?
I think back, but it's not an easy thing to forget, his breath on my cheek in the doorway of the dark staircase, his hand claiming unreasonable ownership of my shoulder and his voice dripping with self-satisfaction and arrogance.
-He said, 'tell the boy it was Gabriel, the one in black.' When I asked what, he said 'everything'. In all fairness, I didn't lie purposefully.
The bitterness returns to her face as she raises an eyebrow at my feeble defence.
-What would you call it then, is it labelled something else on your clearly excellent scale of moral reasoning?
-No, I mean, for a second I thought it was Gabriel. I was in shock, Christie wasn't there- when I heard Cassie crying up the stairs he rushed past me without telling me what was going on, he left me in a room with a beaten-up girl lying on the floor, what other conclusion could I have drawn?
-And it didn't occur to you that Christopher has supposedly already given you this information?
-No, it didn't. I don't think he'd wanted me to go in there in the first place, I'm not sure he wanted me to find Cassie at all, in fact- he specifically asked me to only wait just inside the building so I could run out when Yves got there. I get the feeling he didn't expect Gabriel to be in the building already. There was all that time when he was with me, early this morning. I don't think he slept, but there was plenty of time when he wasn't at the building. What's significant about this place anyway, or is he just drawn to abandoned houses where strange things don't get questioned by the police?
-This is where Gabriel works.
Oh. Oh.
-And he tried to blow it up...
-No. He didn't try, he succeeded. He didn't mean to blow it up, he meant to damage it enough to send a message.
-You sound like you're reading a little more into this than I am. What message?
-You don't know anything about him outside of the days you've known him?
-Nothing, he never told me anything.
-He likes to own things. He likes to collect things. For a long time, Gabriel was his property. It was obvious to everyone else, he was pretty unfeeling about it all but Gabriel never left him. He never displayed much affection but he was unmistakeably in control of the poor guy. A month ago is when Yves came along, becoming the deciding factor in Gabriel's attempt to separate himself from Christie. Christie is a hard person to separate yourself from. Now I'm thinking Christie is pretty annoyed that Gabriel somehow succeeded in doing that.
-So he made me try and break them up by telling Yves that Gabriel attacked Cassie. That's pretty feeble.
-On its own, it's pretty feeble. With the other stuff...
-There's other stuff?
-It doesn't really concern you...
-Actually, I think it probably does.
-You don't understand though.
-I might do if you explain it to me? I'm actually quite intelligent, contrary to popular belief.
-As am I, so it shouldn't surprise you that it didn't slip my notice that you were. Anyway, look. Last night when he went out he found Yves. He drugged him and...did things...that I'm probably not at liberty to tell you about.
-He got Yves to cheat on Gabriel by drugging him.
-Yes. That exactly. And then there's the explosion...
-With Anton inside...why was Anton inside?
-That's something I don't know. I think we've got to ask him that ourselves.
Fortunately, we're at the bottom of the wide hospital driveway. Comfortingly close to some answers.

Art Decade

Yves. I was almost grateful for the fire when it came. Almost happy about the flames suddenly engulfing the downstairs blocked-up windows, swallowing the cheap wooden panels like they were nothing. It put my vision back into focus. I stood and stared just like everybody else, except I had already been facing the building so I didn't have to jump around in alarm. I'm not sure whether I would have been able to. I watched it happen maintaining this dazed state, and when the second loud crash sounded my eyes ceased to be blurry. I wiped the water from my face that I could no longer explain, feeling the rush of heat and sound in its place. At the third crash, I turned around to face the ambulance, maybe I wanted to miss what happened next.

Anne. I fell backwards onto the pavement and barely felt it because of what I saw around forty seconds after the first bang inside the building. The board on the downstairs window to the right of the house flew off with a smash and a figure climbed out of the huge hole it left. At this point I lost track of what was happening. The figure was instantly rushed at by the paramedics and taken into the ambulance, I sat on the freezing tarmac understanding nothing. Gabriel was about ten metres from where he had been sitting moments before, standing in front of the fire in the middle of the road, just watching.
The fire engine arrived in less than ten minutes; we're pretty central, despite all the back alleys to navigate. People in red and yellow suits join the veritable rainbow that is the array of emergency services now saving, questioning and extinguishing everything they can of this weird, empty street. A secret place in a city this busy. It could have been a sanctuary. I have the overwhelming feeling that the parts every character present has played in the drama that has just occurred has simply got to have some kind of common factor.
As I reach inside my coat pockets for warmth, I feel a little scratch. I'm worried that I know exactly what that common denominator is.

Yves. I'm shoved aside as paramedics dive into the ambulance, digging out more equipment, ferrying it to the second party of them who are crowding a newcomer to the scene- a newcomer who smells of smoke, looks far worse for wear but is absolutely recognisable as Anton.
Realising this I rush to his side, doctors trying to push me out of the circle but I catch hold of his hand.
-What are you doing here? Why were you in there, god, Anton, are you alright?
He stares at me, notably dizzy for a second until he seems to focus with a sharp shake of his head. He opens his mouth to mouth something but gets stuck, coughing loudly. He tries again.
-Christie.
I have nothing to do but laugh a little at how much sense that makes.
-I thought as much.
Anton tries to speak again, I can see how much effort he's putting into it, still choking on smoke.
-He's....he's a fucking psychopath...
He's coughing with laughter now and the doctor looking at him is trying to keep him still. He attempts to bat her away with an arm that has red marks around the wrist. He winces as he moves, as far from the way he'd make every movement impossibly smooth before this.
-Don't believe her. Don't believe Anne, she doesn't know...Christie made her...
He's properly choking now, and a paramedic pushes me away asking me to kindly leave for a moment.
Anne? Anne must be the girl who found Cassie. For a second I'm angry at her but that's washed away as I cringe at the memory of Christie's voice, persuasive and forever changing. I screw my eyes shut as tight as possible and open them hoping that none of this has happened. I survery my surroundings, however, to an intense disappointment, until I remember the most vital of details. The focus of this screwed-up landscape. The aim, the idea, the heart of this...I walk towards Gabriel unnaturally slowly as he turns his head to me in a similar fashion, maybe it's just my head distorting the speed of everything...I reach him, now sat down on the cold concrete looking desolate. I wrap my arms around his tiny-looking figure and we stay in the middle of the street outside the burning building in perfect silence for a very long time. His eyes are closed, and this is a rare thing for him. It's almost worrying, considering that he might not be opening them because they'd give away what he thinks, and he doesn't know what he's thinking. I want him too look at me so I can know what to make of it all myself. I remain contented simply looking at him, however, staying here for as long as he wants us to.

Anne. Anton is in the ambulance. Cassie is in the ambulance. A house is on fire. Two people are all each other has and I almost took that away from them. I can't help but know, inconsolably, that I am the reason for this destruction.
I open my palm.
'You're welcome.
C.Stone.'
I may be the reason, but I'm not the only reason.
The blonde lady approaches me. She takes the card wordlessly from my hand and throws it into the flames that the firefighters have almost completely put out. She wipes a tear I didn't know existed from my face and stands, just watching, for a full five minutes.
-I think this is it.
I look up at her to see if she'll elaborate.
-He's outdone himself. There's no one left to hurt, no one left to get at. I didn't know about you though...I'm so sorry.
Why would she apologise to me? I created this, I was the instrument, the player, maybe not the conductor but definitely a large part of it.
-I'm sorry too. For all of this, it was me. Did you know that? It was me.
-It wasn't. It never is. It is always, always Christie. You owe him nothing. Like everybody else.
She starts walking away from me.
-I'm going to see how Anton and Cassie are doing. Coming?
I'm so grateful for this invitation I couldn't possibly express it any other way than finally convincing my legs to move forwards.

Warszawa II

Yves. I bang my fist against the door over and over again before I realise I could just walk in, so I rattle the door handle, forgetting how it works at the most important moment. This is when the door opens all by itself and I practically fall in.
I am not expecting the person I collide with.
-Shirley? What are you doing here? Where is Gabriel?
-Waiting for you. I don't know where he is, I think he went to work.
-No, no, no...why...
This is when I notice what's wrong here. Shirley shouldn't be here, because Sally-Ann isn't here. And she shouldn't be here anyway because she doesn't live here. And moreover, she isn't smiling. That's not normal. She looks serious, she looks upset, she looks angry. I have to make her understand the urgency of this situation.
-I need to see him, Shirley, I need to see Gabriel now.
-No, Yves. I need to talk to you. Can you come in, please?
Her tone is infuriatingly relaxed. I follow her because she might be able to tell me how to get to him fastest.
-Sit down.
-I really need to go, please can we be quick?
-I saw you yesterday.
-Yes, we saw everyone, remember?
-No, I saw you with Christie.
What? I get a sudden flash of the glimpse of blonde I saw last night. It was Shirley...
-You did? Oh thank god...
-What do you mean, Yves?
Her tone is more threatening, I can't understand it...
-You know what happened. You can tell Gabriel what happened? Well, you won't have to, I will, but you were there, so you know what happened.
-How in any way is that a good thing, Yves? What are you talking about?
I have no idea why she sounds so angry at me. It wasn't even...
-Shirley, what did you see? What did it look like to you?
-I saw you shagging Christie in the club toilets, Yves, what the fuck do you think it looked like?
Oh jesus christ, I don't know how I missed this painfully obvious and integral piece of logic when running to convince Gabriel that I didn't mean to....
-I didn't mean to.
-Oh, wow, that's just brilliant, you didn't mean to. Wonderful! Problem solved. You didn't mean to. Right.
-No..no, I really didn't. I mean I didn't have a choice. I mean...he...that drink, oh god the drink!
Flashbacks are, well, flashing back. This is a weird and grotesque thing to be realising right now but I have a feeling this happened.
-He gave me something, then in the toilet he wouldn't let me go, I couldn't see, it was nonsense, I was hallucinating and he wouldn't let me leave. Do you believe me?
Her eyes are as wide as they were last night, her painted mouth a perfect shocked circle once again.
-You're sure that's what happened?
-Yes, absolutely, I wouldn't...I wouldn't do that-
-I know. I know you wouldn't.
She speaks quietly now, looking down. She raises one flawlessly manicured hand to her forehead, brushing away an impeccable blonde wave.
-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-
-No, it's fine. Thinking a little more logically about things I can't imagine what other possible conclusion you could have come to! Sorry I didn't explain.
I think about the conversation we are having.
-Fucking hell, why am I even having to say that? I shouldn't have to explain, that shouldn't have happened! That shouldn't have happened, I shouldn't be here having this discussion, he shouldn't have done that, oh god, why did he do that? Why in hell would anyone do a thing like that? I thought- I thought you said he was nice. You told me he was good. You told me he was a nice person I didn't know enough about. Why?
She brings her other palm to her head, looking quite pained and very puzzled.
-I...don't know. That's the thing. I can't figure it out. This isn't right, I can't believe he'd do that, I can't see why...I mean, I haven't seen him for a month, none of us have, all we heard was that at the beginning of the month he texted Gabriel a couple of times, which Gabriel was annoyed about. Apparently he was just asking about you.
-So he knew about me and Gabriel, it wasn't some misunderstanding...
-No, he definitely knew about you and Gabriel. The thing is...I think..I don't know though. I can't be sure. I can't quite believe it myself.
-What? Tell me, this could be anything.
-It's like he wanted to be seen, last night. It's like he wanted the wrong thing to be thought, like he was doing that deliberately...I'm just trying to think if he'd have done that because of Gabriel.
-How do you mean?
-It always seemed to us that he never gave a damn about Gabriel. And Gabriel adored him, and that was what was wrong with the whole situation. Now I'm thinking maybe Christie cared a lot more than he was letting on, because Gabriel certainly didn't feel the same way he does about you towards him. He was never this...protective. This...relaxed, really.
-And now I've ruined it.
-No, you really haven't. This wasn't you, it wasn't your fault.
-He's known Christie a lot longer than he's known me. Who's he going to believe?
-I wouldn't worry about that. It's pretty much common knowledge that Christie Stone is the best actor any of us have ever met. I've seen him be completely unrecognisable with other people when he wants to be. To us, he doesn't speak much, but I've seen him pretend to be everything. I wouldn't be surprised if he's been giving us a completely made-up impression of him from the start.
-That makes it sound like you couldn't put it past him, caring about Gabriel, that is. He could have been pretending.
-Exactly. That's what I'm thinking is the most likely thing. Fucking hell, the guy's bad news. I didn't ever expect this.
-Who could ever possibly anticipate that one of their friends would do something like that, though? It's not reasonable to have to think about this kind of thing. It's just...wrong.
We sit in contemplative silence for a while, mainly bad things sinking into our minds. I stand up after about three minutes.
-So I have to go and find Gabriel.
-Of course, yes.
-You think he's at work?
-You could always wait for him...
-No, I need to see him now, it's early. He won't be back til at least eleven. Where is it, where he works? The name of the place?
-Can I come with you? I need to go down that way, I'll show you.
We leave quickly, I'm wrapping my coat around me as tight as possible because there's a freezing winter breeze outside, so slight I only feel it for the velocity at which I'm walking, but moving at any pace feels like an assault from the air when it's this cold.
We get into a cab and set off a way I've never been before. I've only gone with Gabriel to work once, and that was the day when we drove round a long way, this way is through the city and probably shorter. Not that I'm complaining at the memory of that glorious evening, driving down the motorway under a purple sky.
Shirley directs the taxi through some backstreets, apparently knowing the place like the back of her hand. We pull up at the bottom of the road and start walking.
I can see Gabriel from here, his figure dark and in contrast to the rest of the scene in the winter sun, which I only just notice now...I'm running, Shirley is left behind looking shocked, until she's running too, until I get to where Gabriel is standing.
He pushes straight past me, not registering my presence and not caring if he did, the scene he left behind is all the explanation I need.

Anne. I'm standing here, Cassie still lying across my arms, I can't move. I can see the guy in black that came out of the room running down the street, two more people coming towards me. One of them is the boy I know I'm supposed to see now...the other is a blonde woman who I've never seen before.
I don't know what to do, the guy comes up to me and he's speaking but I can't figure it out. I bend down and lie Cassie on the ground, taking his coat to put under her head. I can't concentrate on words because I can't quite believe what's happened. I stand up and stare at him, I wonder if he can see that I'm trying to tell him I don't understand? I close my eyes because he's still talking at me and he looks so worried. I suppose I can't blame him. It takes a while but soon the noise around my head settles down until I can make sense of his words. Just two words. He's saying them over and over again, it started with urgency and now it's just a mantra, a comforting thing to repeat so that we feel like we're getting somewhere.
-What happened.
I open my eyes and a blur of information dictates my next move.
I raise my hand to point to the dark disappearing figure.
-He attacked her. I was on the stairs because I heard something and he was running away.
His eyes widen and his mouth drops.
-...No...it wasn't...he didn't...
-Yes he did. He attacked Cassie. I saw him.
I can't even remember if that's a lie or not. He returns my gaze and turns it to a stare of contempt, confused vitriol towards something I can't understand. He crouches down to sit beside Cassie, stroking strands of hair from her face that stick there with congealed blood.
-Cassie...can you hear me?

Yves. As I try and shake Cassie back to consciousness all I can think of is why this girl is telling me that Gabriel attacked her. Of course he didn't. It's the most unreasonable thing in the world. I try and push it from my mind but the girl's conviction is disturbing. I look up at her from where I'm kneeling to see that she's just staring at me, contemplative, wondering.
-Why? Why would you say that Gabriel attacked her? Do you not understand how unreasonable that is? Why are you lying to me, who did it?
-It was him, I saw him. I saw him attack her.
Her voice is strange, horrible to hear, monotonous and lacking all passion but convincing because it's so effortless. It's too disturbing an idea for her to be lying to me but I can't accept that.
I look around, Gabriel is walking towards me, Shirley a few steps behind him, a phone at her ear. He runs a hand through his hair and turns back to her every few steps to make sure she's still following, or ask something.
Something I've always been fascinated by is how sirens only make noise when they're in the right place; very close. I hear the sirens and I see Shirley stop walking, run up to the source of the flashing lights and start talking to the driver. Uniformed people are wheeling out a stretcher, it's like a film, the way I feel such distance from it. Gabriel is still approaching us.
-But why? You haven't said why. Why would he do that?
She looks me right in the eye, her glance unnervingly honest.
-He knows about you and Christie. He was angry. He was angry with you, so he attacked her.
She says it like she's reading from a script, but as Gabriel walks towards me with no expression on his face I find myself backing away.
I can see Shirley in the background still, I'm putting two and two together, trying hard to rearrange this puzzle so it doesn't come out with this result, I don't like it, I don't want this outcome-
-He said he blames you.

Anne. The words that spill from my mouth are the rehearsed lines Christie gave to me. I almost feel guilty for the way this information is responsible for the destroyed, desolate look on the boy's face, but I know what I saw- I saw Gabriel leaving the room and I saw Cassie having been attacked. What Christie told me as he left me on the stairs was to tell this boy I speak to now, Yves, that Gabriel knows what happened with Christie, and he blames him. I know this information, so the conclusion I'm reciting to this poor distraught boy isn't fallacy, it's the only logical explanation. It's hard to think logically when someone you unexpectedly care about, would even consider a friend, is lying unconscious at your feet- so from this I conclude that I'm doing quite well to be remaining coherent.
The people from inside the ambulance come over with the stretcher and pick up Cassie, a man comes and starts asking questions at me. I just stare at him blankly because I don't know enough to answer correctly so he turns to the boy who must be Yves.
-I don't know, I only just got here and she was unconscious, she said she was attacked-
he motions towards me and I turn my head slowly.
-I don't know what happened, is she alright? Is she fine? She's still breathing, I think she's just...
he trails off, tears in his eyes. How does he know Cassie? They lead him over to the ambulance with the stretcher, and a paramedic puts a blanket over my shoulders and pushes me towards it too. I don't know why.
The blonde lady is still talking to a person in a uniform when some police arrive to take over. Gabriel is standing in the middle of the road, his hands over his eyes. Yves didn't look at him when he walked past and when I see him back away from the centre of the scene to collapse against a brick wall I momentarily wonder what I've done because he doesn't look capable of this...
A policewoman approaches me with a notebook. I give her my best conversation-repellant look but she's probably trained to ignore those.
-This man told me you're a witness.
What? She motions to the ambulance where Yves is standing, static and uncomfortable watching everything around him.
-No, no, I just...I just found her. I don't know what happened.
My head is cleared and I can't bring myself to deliver the story I'd give to Yves. I wonder if this is because I'm unsure of it myself? I can't bring my conscience around to doubting me but something isn't right, something is stopping me from speaking.
-You are under obligation to tell us everything you know. It could be invaluable information that would help us to understand what's happened here. It could benefit the health of the victim if we know what occured.
-She was attacked, I'm sure she was attacked.
-And who attacked her?
-I don't know, honestly. I couldn't tell you.
-You're quite sure?
-Yes.
-Have you seen anyone else who could have been involved?
Now is probably not a good time to mention the dark figure staring disconsolately at the wall he sits opposite. He looks too damaged to hurt and I'm starting to worry about what I've said.
Is this guilt? Is this conscience? Is this emotion? Feeling towards another human? The broken glass, the house Cassie ran out of clutching money, Anton, the business card, Cassie's bruised face a second ago, Yves' watery eyes and the crumpled figure of Gabriel to the right of the frame I can see start to build up in my mind.
'You're welcome.' 'You're welcome.' 'You're welcome.' 'You're welcome.'

'You're welcome.

C. Stone.'

And then there was an explosion.

Warszawa

Anne. -Time to go.
Christie's voice floats in from the doorway. I pull myself up to look at him. It's not too difficult because sleeping in someone else's house unnerves me enough to make me sleep very lightly, I'd almost been waiting for him to come in. He looks even paler than usual, tired for the first time, his face drawn and lacking its usual arrogance and sense of energy. I slide out of bed and he leaves, which I take as my cue to get myself as ready as possible. I'd slept in my underwear and t shirt, so I pull on the rest of my clothes and go out to find him. I'm in a sort of daze, I don't know what I'm supposed to do now.
-Is there anything else?
-What? No. Fine, great, we can leave now.
He seems awfully distracted. Is this the psychopath experiencing an incredibly delayed sense of guilt? I doubt it. It's more likely that he hasn't slept for a while. It's not that disappointing, because I don't really care. We exit the building and get in a taxi.
-So are you going to tell me what I'm supposed to do?
-What?
-What do I have to do? I'm supposed to talk to someone, aren't I? It would probably help if I knew who, don't you think?
-Oh. Yes. Okay...his name is Yves.
-That helps.
Christie gives me a look that conveys accurately the impatience I have no doubt he feels towards me. He looks so exhausted by my presence and the sound of my voice that I very nearly think of pitying him, but I rapidly recall what a ridiculous and repugnant figure I firmly believe him to be.
-He will be wearing dark blue. He has light brown curly hair, and a girlish face. He lives in the same block of flats as you but he only moved here in the last two months. If you have seen him before, you will no doubt have seen him with a man who is slightly taller than him and is usually dressed in black. That man's name is Gabriel. Do you know who I mean?
I think back to a day when I looked out my window and almost shouted to a boy out the window. I have seen him, as a matter of fact, he seemed to very quickly integrate himself into that garishly colourful crowd of people that occasionally storm past me on the stairs and make me feel dreadful about my lack of life.
-I think I know who you mean, yes.
-You'll know when you see him. What you say to him is what is important.
I notice that we drove past where I live a long time ago now. I wonder where we're going.

Yves. -Why...why would you do this to me?
-Gabriel wouldn't have refused, Yves, you know that, don't you? Not me, he wouldn't have refused me...
He is trying to stop me from escaping. My arms are pinned down against the wall I've turned my back to and his lips almost touch my ear. I find some strength, from somewhere, and pull away as roughly as I can. I think he anticipates this because he lets go at exactly the right moment for me to overestimate the force needed and crash myself again into the side of the cheap thin wooden panel, painfully.
-No, no, get off me, I don't even know you-
I'm out of the cubicle now and I look at him to see if I've just horribly misinterpreted the situation, but all there is on his face is a frosty, victorious glare. I get out as fast as I can, pushing past people until I'm in the fresh air again. The dancers have dispersed, it's got to be past three in the morning now. I have to run, I have to shake myself back into understanding things. I set off down the road at a stupid pace, not caring after ten minutes about the pain in my side and in my legs and especially in my head, but soon I can barely breathe. It's too much, I stop, leaning against a brick wall. I've a vague idea of where I am so I continue to walk in the same direction. I should eventually get home.
It's actually around two hours later that I locate my road, and a half hour after that when I slam my front door behind me, calling out to see if Gabriel's there out of some weird habit, then remembering what time it is, what just happened, why I ache so much. I try to get to my room and just about make collapsing on the end of the mattress.

Anne. Christie has gone. He left me outside this abandoned-looking building, with recylced wooden boards nailed crudely over window frames and it's the only non-barred door in about five potential buildings. It's down a road I'd never go down, and I don't feel too comfortable here as it is.
I've been instructed to walk halfway up the stairs and come out when the boy called Yves comes in, which apparently he will. I try the door, it's very stiff, like it's rarely opened. I give it a kick and it swings around, clouds of dust coming off the rusty hinges.
I step inside after trying to make sure that the door stays open behind me, ensuring escape. I'm not nervous, as such, but in any building this decrepid and stereotypically creepy I'm sure anyone would be a little mindful of their safety. I start carefully up the stairs- the first one creaks ominously, but I don't think it's that unstable, so I continue. The walls are very close on either side, it's quite dark but I can make out from the light at the bottom of the stairs that they are cream coloured with years of graffiti growing like climber plants over their dirty shade.
I think I must have been there a while now, so I sit down on the stair to wait, my legs still a little weak from having only just woken up.
When the dust has settled around me and the floorboards have stopped crying out under my weight on their rotted wood, it is quieter than I have heard for a long time. I can just about make out distant traffic if I try, but I have to try hard.
I sit in this relative silence for some time, until it is interrupted by a muffled sound, then a clearer one; the unmistakable ring of an injured cry.
I jump to my feet, it's coming from upstairs.

Yves. My head hurts like nothing I've ever experienced before as I try to lift it a little. As I open my eyes I feel a sharp pain in the back of my neck from the strange position in which I fell asleep. I'm in the mood to stay here for a long time nursing my injuries but as I lift my arm to rub the back of my head I catch sight of what's covering it- soft, dark blue fabric that isn't my own. There's a rush, a freeze, a fire that engulfs my skull as the realities of the last few hours or so integrate themselves into my thoughts. I forget all about my head, unstick myself from the mattress and sprint out the door and up the stairs to flat 104.

Anne. What do I do? What does anyone do in this situation? This doesn't happen in real life, it doesn't happen to real people. Absolutely not. I breathe in. Nothing that's happened to me recently happens to real people. Breathe out. So that means I can safely conclude that I should just...breathe in...take control of myself and find out what's happening. Breathe out. I go upstairs and listen outside another shut door. I can hear whispering, panicked sounds I can barely make out.
-I'll come back...wait here
This is uttered louder than the rest that I didn't hear. I step back just in time, the door swings open and someone pushes past me.
-What...oh, jesus, get out the way...
He runs down the stairs before I can say anything, before I register fully who it is. I run into the room he just came out of from which hurt noises are still emitting.
-Anne...is that you, Anne?
I see the whole scene too slowly, each square centimetre of the floor revealing itself to me painfully gradually. A trickle of blood meets the top of my shoe, where it spreads out. I follow the thin red trail to its gory source, unwillingly meeting eyes that are too horribly familiar, perhaps one of the few pairs I would feel so hurt upon seeing so filled with physical pain.
Staring up at me, bruised and bleeding from the dirty wooden floor, are the huge, sad eyes -make up smeared, replaced with purple and black rings- of Cassie.
They close in the effort it takes to lift up her head to see me, I walk over and pick her up, her tiny figure frighteningly ragdoll-like in my shaking arms.
I have to take her downstairs and outside and out of the dust of this house and out of the air of this room.
When I get outside, I stand on the doorstep still holding her, looking around for someone who could help.
The scene that greets me is like a still from some bizarre anti-realist film, alien people moving their heads too slow for it to be normal.

Always Crashing in the Same Car V

Anne. When I wake up I feel very odd. I think it’s because I feel exceptionally good about things. A disturbing sense of health will not remove itself from my person, I’m unsure as to whether I have experienced this before. Somewhere, in the back of my history, perhaps…but it is so excruciatingly hard to recognize now that it must have been long ago. I must have slept particularly well. I suppose the fresh air, as frightening, upon reflection, as that whole episode last night was, could be seen as potentially beneficial for my body. The running, too, that must have been good. That explains it: I feel healthy because I ran last night. I was also in a mad and dangerous situation and in the morning light I can’t give any logical reasons why I actually did that. Of all the stupid things one can possibly do to raise the heart rate just for a moment- I chose helping a criminal on a violent and supremely surreal midnight jaunt about a city with an already-quite-high crime rate. Not sensible, not good. Not good at all.

Now I feel distinctly negative about future prospects. I make the conscious decision to forget that last night ever happened until the police inevitably come for me, in which instance I should absolutely forget it happened even more. My feigned innocence will be far more convincing if I believe it myself.

Consequently, I commence my regular morning rituals of tea, washing and dressing. It feels wonderfully normal. I think today, I’ll go to the library.

Yves. On opening my eyes, I presume it’s been one of those times when I’ve slept about thirty seconds but feel like I’ve slept ten hours. This is because I can see the exact same thing I could when I closed them; Gabriel’s sharp blue irises framed by thick black lines of lashes studying me at a very close range. When I realize that a night has actually passed, I’m infinitely happier to wake up to this non-contextually unusual sight, because it’s nice to wake up next to someone.

-Hello.

His voice is ridiculously matter-of-fact for this time in the morning.

-I waited for you to wake up because I like to watch you. Tea? I have to go to work soon.

I can’t find a voice to answer the questions, his manner is bizarrely endearing. I opt for the abandon of what he must assume is a logical way of thinking and curl as tightly as I can to him. I am once again taken aback by how deceptive the angles of his body are as he softens so easily to be closer. Maybe one day too I’ll stop wondering how I got to be here and just get on with enjoying it. Not that I don’t enjoy it now, of course.

After a very long interval which comprises mainly of my investigation of his unnaturally long neck I release him, albeit reluctantly.

-Tea would be nice. Do you have to go?

-Yes, and so do you, if I’m not mistaken. You’ve had this job less than a week, better not let them get the wrong impression of you so soon.

-I’d say it’s quite an accurate one if that just means my being late because of you.

-Sweet, but no. We have forty-five minutes.

-Forty-five minutes isn’t too short…

-Forty-five minutes until we have to leave, Yves.

I love the badly-repressed smile that tells me he’s very tempted by my proposition, but he’s right. I should go to work.

This has to be the most extraordinary domestic arrangement I’ve ever heard of. We sit in bed drinking tea and I contemplate how I’d never have conceived this situation in the strangest of dreams. I definitely need to start thinking about something else as well, because looking at Gabriel who stares intently at the wall ahead, not blinking and sipping tea as though hypnotized, clearly has his mind on higher things. I would say I’d give anything to be inside his head but I don’t think I’d last a minute with that amount of information he seems to store.

When we’re outside the front door of the flat, just about on time, he takes my mouth and possibly my logic for the rest of the day.

-We don’t have to go out tonight.

-We don’t?

I didn’t realize there was an obligation in the first place, but still,

-No. And I’d quite like to stay at home.

He kisses me again, very quickly and before I can focus he’s halfway down the street, which is when my brain finally extracts the meaning from his words and makes me particularly excited about this evening.

I wander to the bus stop in a daze, hoping I’ll collect myself a little more before the day at work.

Anne. Four weeks pass of routine and further acceptance of the future, that night seems like a fiction of someone else’s conception. Life returns to relative normalcy, the only difference being that it has been as much time since I’ve ingested anything remotely anaesthetizing: I haven’t had the time, not least the inclination.

Yves. Four weeks of falling into a pattern. Accidentally-on-purpose ending up in perfect synchronization with Gabriel, who made those four weeks into something very close to the heaven I’m sure he comes from. Life has a pulse, a sumptuous ostinato, I’ve never been gladder to be being dragged along. We have a brilliant routine that covers every need we could possibly have. I duly attend work, (although it’s far better than that, I enjoy it.)I return to my flat where Gabriel is sometimes waiting, balancing acrobatically on a kitchen chair, or lying languidly across my sofa, or, less frequently, sitting in a very normal manner in the armchair reading something- at most comprehensive an up-to-date newspaper, at least comprehensive and most commonly, a very heavy book of plays or poems in a language I didn’t know existed. On occasion, my favourite occasions, I presume he’s at his own flat until I walk unsuspecting into my bedroom, where he will be elegantly draped over my mattress, staring out of the window absent-mindedly, apparently completely oblivious to my presence until I dash across the room to join him. Other times, he isn't in my flat, so I go up to his and wait if he isn't there. It's possibly a bit of a mad system we have but it seems to work.
This is how my world is now. Tonight, we're going out again.

Anne. I've done little all day, as usual. It's comfortable, though, this habit of a minimalist lifestyle. I'm almost alright with it. I came to the conclusion long ago that I actually quite enjoy sitting at home and feeling depressed about the lack of direction in my existence so these days I just sit at home and feel content at the disappointing lack of direction in my existence. Actually, that's wrong- there's something else these days. I know, I understand that I have the freedom to change my life if I wanted to. I've always tried to only ever blame myself for all the bad things in my head and succeeded, but at the same time, I never accepted the blame for the things that really get to me. Which is aimlessness. Which is what I have. Or don't have, dependant on your perspective. Now I welcome that blame, because with it comes empowerment. I suppose...I'm no longer bitter about the world. This means I can spend most evenings at home, reading about some long ago time- something I definitely have not tired of. I'd rather exist in someone else's fantasy. I'd rather stick with this habit.
It is on one such evening that I hear my front door open. My heartbeat quickens, I stand up and move as quietly as possible. My door was most definitely locked, as no one I know has a key and as most people would knock if they knew I was in, or didn't, for that matter, I must conclude that whoever has let themselves in in this fashion must be negative news.

-Anne?

Oh fuck, oh absolute fuck. I know that voice, that frustrated, bossy voice, and I didn't want to hear it this evening. How horribly predictable that I wouldn't have heard the last of my dear Mr Stone just over a month ago now.

-What are you doing in my flat?

-Lovely to see you too. Are you dressed? I need you.

-And I suppose it didn't occur to you that I might have something to do, or-

-You never have something to do, don't be so facetious.

-Or not want to? Or do you just assume everybody finds your ridiculous demands completely logical and worthy of their time?

-I don't have to assume, I've tested the theory dozens of times and the results are extremely conclusive.

-You concluded that everyone finds you irresistable?

-Yes? Is that such a problem for you?

-I have absolutely nothing to say to you, Christopher.

-Oh come on. What's changed in a month? Have you joined the convent? Have you found a husband? Have you become a vegan? What could possibly make you want to turn this down? Oh christ, you haven't found a purpose to your life, have you?

He says all of this from in my kitchen. I have to hand it to him, he's so preposterous he's amusing. I say this because I have no doubt he's being perfectly serious, I can picture him pacing the floor, no, it's not just a picture because I can hear his heels on the tiles- rolling his eyes and gesticulating in an incredibly over the top manner.

-Anne. Please.

He puts his head round the door, I've sat down and returned to my book. I give him what I hope is a withering glare.

-I promise we won't break into anyone's house. You won't help me steal anything, you won't have to injure anyone, you won't even have to run much. It'll be nice, I promise...I need you, Anne.

This is when he enters the room, walks up to me, crouches down inbetween my legs and the coffee table with his hands over the top of my book, eyes wide and fake pleading.

-Are you going to leave if I continue to say no?

-Absolutely not...I'll tell you though, Anne, if you do refuse you'll be missing out on so much...

He moves his hand, glides a finger along my cheekbone which I slap away in a second.

-As if that's going to persuade me.

-Fine. Whatever. There's money in it. That's the truth, Anne, there's money in it. Money for you, adventure for you, a future for you! I've watched you, your routine is inconceivably dull. Just one night, Anne. I'll leave you alone after this if you want, but I don't think you will.You just have to.

I don't think he's going to leave my house. This is inconvenient, but I'll afford him a little quality in the point-making. I get up. The look on his face is so triumphant I consider jumping out the window just to spite him.
I end up not doing this and, against my better judgement, follow him out the door.

Yves. We're outside a new place. This is in celebration of Hanne's last night in Britain, so everyone will be in attendance. I've only just got to know her so I'm quite sad that she's leaving, but I do know that leaving is what she needs to do. I'm not the only one who's ever wanted to escape.

We stand outside a door that's nothing like the flashy exterior of any of our usual haunts, but Gabriel promises me that's because it's the best place. It's freezing, absolutely the middle of winter but we're waiting for everyone. It's not too bad, feeling like my hands are going to fall off, because we're leaning against the brick wall of the venue with his arm around me, and his careless establishment of the fact that I am his property always makes me feel somewhat content.

Anton, Mick and Tony are the first people to arrive. They look, as always, impeccable and identical. I consider how we'd look to passers-by, but realise that passers-by in this area are not unused to strange looking people. Sally-Ann and Shirley arrive with Hanne, and we go in.

The club is very dark and quite crowded. There are intermittent strobe lights that illuminate people who are extravagantly dressed even for the standards I've grown accustomed to of late. We're standing near a corner of the room, all of us, waiting for Hanne to come back with things to drink. This is when I see a face I'd forgotten all about, the stunning white-clad silhouette I remember as Christie is standing in our crowd, no one having seen him arrive. Everyone's very excited to see him, Mick and Tony greet him enthusiastically as do Sally-Ann and Shirley. He comes over, kisses me on each cheek and does the same with Gabriel, whose fingers are slightly digging into my waist as I feel him tense up beside me. He pulls me a little closer in quite an overly-protective manner, which is when I remember that there's some kind of history here. This however, seems to have no immediate effect as Gabriel soon relaxes and easy conversation ensues between the whole group. Anton, for some reason, looks a little morose, and saunters off telling us he's going to catch up with Hanne.

When Hanne returns, Veronica and Martin have joined us. I've grown to like them a little bit, even if they do look incredibly sinister and speak to others unnaturally rarely. This is when I realise that everyone's here except Cassie, who is always here.

-Hanne, where's Cassie?

-She called me earlier and said she really couldn't come, she didn't say why. I thought it was a little bit strange but I will see her tomorrow.

Interesting. Hanne hands me a drink and I forget about this. Tonight feels amazingly good, the place has a wonderfully intense atmosphere and everyone seems to have a truly fantastic recklessness on Hanne's instruction, we'd intended for it to be a night for her to remember but the way she's going, I'm pretty sure she won't be able to if she tried.

I look around after some amount of time of being there, I'm never sure about the timescales, noticing that Gabriel is no longer next to me, and I feel distinctly dizzy. It's not that bad at all really, and I'll find Gabriel soon. I see a white figure approaching.

-Hello, Yves.

-Christie, hi!

I don't think I've ever heard him speak before. I'm surprised and drunk enough to sound suitably affable and relaxed when words fall out of my mouth. He gives an alligator smile.

-It's a shame Hanne's leaving, don't you think?

-Yeah, she seems so lovely.

-But she's going to enjoy travelling, I expect.

-Definitely, sometimes you just need the escape.

-Sounds like you know all about that...

-I suppose I do.

He passes me a drink that he seems to have produced from mid-air. His interest in whatever nonsense I'm currently spouting is endearing, it seems genuine. I smile at him because I can't remember why I didn't like him in the first place.

-To escape.

He knocks his bottle to mine.

-Absolutely.

I drink too much in one go, not caring to expect the contents. It tastes a little weird and it's probably very strong but tonight's definitely a night for not caring if ever there was one. Escape indeed.

Anne. I follow Christie down the road until he sees a cab and waves it down. We get in and I don't hear what he says to the driver. We end up in a place I find awfully familiar; where Christie lives.

-Come on in.

We take the almost clean lift to the sixth floor and I am lead into his brightly-lit flat. It's bigger when it isn't clothed in darkness. Still very tidy, still very minimalist chic.

-What's the obsession?

-Which one?

-Everything being all clean and white. You only dressing in white. What's with that?

-I like things to be pure and clean. That's not so strange when you think about it. The world's a filthy place, my love. I like to feel like I shine inside of it. Sit. Do you mind staying here tonight?

-Why?

-Convenience. Nothing strange, I promise. There's a spare room. I know my words aren't worth much but I swear you can trust me. Please feel at home. Please feel safe.

-Does the door lock?

-Would you like to take a moment to think about that question?

I roll my eyes in return, I'll presume I pretty much have no choice in this matter. I decide that it will be easier to trust him, I don't feel like he wants to kill me.

-No, I don't want to kill you. I don't even want to hurt you. I want you to help me, and I'll pay you, and it will all be wonderfully civil and friendly.

-Right. And what exactly is it that I have to do?

-All I want you to do is be in the right place at the right time and be as convincing as you possibly can. I know you're an actress, Anne, I've seen you do it. This is easy, and the bonus is that you could think of it as a first step to a professional career. Think about it. Your first paid work!

-And how long will it take and how dangerous is it?

-Just a passing moment on the stairs. No danger whatsoever.

-And who does it involve?

-No one you care about, no one you know. Possibly no one you've ever seen before or will ever see again in your life. How does that sound, will you do it?

-What's going to happen to the person it involves?

-Absolutely nothing.

I give a derisive snort.

-Highly likely. Yes, I'll do it. I don't see why I have to stay here though.

-So I can explain the plan and prepare you for tomorrow. Which is very soon, so I'm going to go now. I'll show you your room.

I follow him into a smaller room that's exactly the same colour as all the other rooms, and has an impeccably neat bed in the middle of it and a small table with a lamp. It looks like a hotel.

-Do you have guests often?

-Extremely often.

-And do they ever sleep in here?

-...less often. Is this acceptable?

-Yes, fine, yes.

My voice is full of a surrendering sigh.

-Wonderful. I'll see you in the morning then. Good night, Anne.

I don't respond because he's out the door before I can find the effort. I'm tired, so I lie down stiffly on the tucked-in sheets. In the distance I hear the door slam. Christie has left the building. This is bizarre.

Yves. I can barely see. My head feels very strange and the flashing lights are creating mad, mad shapes around me. My senses are all dulled except the colour is brighter. I feel like I should be aching but I'm not. Click. Eyes shut. Click. Eyes open. The clicks are deafening, I bet my pupils are the size of the room. I'll go into the bathroom to check.

Inside the ridiculously white glaring room I stare at my reflection for a very long time, I was right, I can see just the tiniest outline for an iris. I push back my hair for a better view and the sweat-drenched curls are like the tendrils of a strange plant. I look like an animal with eyes like this, huge, mammal eyes. I can't decide if they are the eyes of a predator or a victim. It doesn't matter. There's a black patch of damp underneath the farthest sink I can see in my peripheral vision and it appears to be spreading across the floor like a dark disease. It changes colour as it creeps, emerald green now spreading under feet and I'm standing on a forest floor. Around me the white gives in to the will of the vicious trees that are taking it over, strangler plants sucking out the bright lights. I turn my head slowly to keep the room from spinning too much because in the mirror I've just seen a huge bird walk in, bright blue and feathered, she opens one of the wooden jungle doors and disappears inside- literally digested by the strange undergrowth of this land. How frightening. I hope it's not too terrible in there, but I've already heard the roars of tigers tonight and I know she has no chance of survival.

I look back into my eyes, losing myself in them. After a long time of concentrating on the huge black disks as lifeboats so that the roots crawling underneath me don't suck me up, I spot white feathers, an angelic light in this sinister scene. This bird is stranger than all of the others, I feel claws at my waist that are almost familiar. It guides me, pulling me to walk backwards into one of those terrifying boxes. I think about protesting, but maybe this creature wants to show me there's nothing to be scared of, so I close my eyes and allow myself to be guided.

Once inside, the bird whispers in strange bird-speak that I don't understand. Hissing a word over and over that feels like it should be familiar but isn't.

-Eee. Eee.

It's muffled, it opens its wings and traps me inside its brilliant feathers, when I try to turn around it digs in talons insistently, keeping me facing the jungle wall right in front of my unruly pupils. I feel such strange things, it's trying to uncover me, trying to get at me. Soft on my neck, trying to get inside my covering coat, so I realise that the bird can get further until I feel its feathers on my bare back, so gentle and natural that the invasion is not unwelcome. What unusual noises I hear, what call of another species is this creature trying to elicit from my tongue? I do not want to understand the language it speaks because it is not my own, but I stay because I am covered here, I stay because I don't know if I could escape if I tried.
The insistent scratching of the bird claws or the sharp beak drags down my side, down my back until it decides to try and be closer, removing the remainder of my protective coat, smooth and cool against places that would not usually offer themselves to such an animal. It's a feeling that is not completely unfamiliar, this closeness...this attack...I get more aware, I sense the creature trying to get further, further invading, uncovering, realising more of me, me realising more of this, this is not good, this is not right...

-Yves.

A bang. In a flash the jungle melts away, a second is all it takes and the trees disappear, melt back and back and back until they get absorbed by the shrinking black patch in the corner of the room I saw earlier and this happens and the room gets clearer and my eyes focus, I turn my head to the source of the sound and it's two huge eyes above a bright red circle of a mouth and then it's gone. A flash of blonde before the door slammed back again, trapping me in here with...I pull violently out of the grip of whoever's holding me here, whoever's...I see my shirt on the floor, my jeans undone...I turn around and I see Christie.