| RAE LOUISE | pecting to hear some tragic back story, perhaps in relation to the so-called hardships that she’d faced, but Gypsy hadn’t given so much as a whisper about life before the streets. “What’s so special about a rundown old mill?” Violet regarded the building again. It was about the width of two or three terraced houses, obscured from the road by a barricade of trees. She and Gypsy had taken a shortcut through a trail of undergrowth and brambles to the back of the mill. Violet had seen part of the River Derwent after stepping off the bus, which gave her some comfort in the knowledge that, if necessary, she’d be able to find her way back into town. Gypsy proceeded to the building’s entrance in spite of Violet’s hesitancy. “Wait, you don’t expect me to go in there?” she said. Gypsy answered, “It’s not what’s inside that you should be afraid of. It’s everything out here.” She pulled open the double doors simultaneously, the scraping of their ancient hinges amplified in the hollow structure so it sounded like a beast roaring in pain. The gloom appeared to devour her as she slipped inside and, left alone, Violet became aware of the eerie silence of nature. Not a single bird or cricket chirped, making her wonder if they were in hiding or had left completely. With that in mind, she hurried after Gypsy. The cracks of light that filtered through the many crevices in the building looked smoky from the dirt that hung in the air. Violet felt the molecules scratching her throat with every breath, causing her eyes to water. Gypsy seemed immune to it as she trampled across the littered ground: debris of cans, food wrappers and split planks of wood, presumably those that had been prised from one or more of the windows in order to gain access. There was a staircase leading up to the first floor, but the tenebrous space looked neither welcoming nor safe. When she glanced ahead, she could no longer see Gypsy in front of her. “Hey, where did you go?” Violet called, coughing at the dryness of her throat. She fanned a hand through the air in front of her as if to clear it. “You’d better not be screwing around with me!” she warned. “Over here.” Violet traced the voice to the left and
saw Gypsy poking her head out from behind another wall. She hadn’t noticed the opening before, but as she plodded forth, she discovered that it led into a separate chamber towards the rear of the mill. It was much smaller than the main area, and with a single boarded-up window, the dank blackness prevented her from entering as though it was another brick wall. “Gypsy?” Violet’s voice echoed in the void. It was as though her companion – ‘friend’ seemed like too strong a word – had dissolved into the shadows. She suddenly felt very alone and very vulnerable, and she was a second away from retreating when a shock of light flooded the room. Violet closed her eyes in a reflex, the luminosity still visible on her inner eyelids. She forced them open to find a figure slouched on the ground in the far corner, an LED lantern planted between his legs. Most of his face was curtained by the long, oily mane that ended just below his chest. She wasn’t acquainted with this man, but clothed in oversized jeans and a skull shirt, he reminded her of a member of a death metal band. The focus of Violet’s scrutiny soon landed upon the three figures standing in front of her. In the middle, and by far the tallest, was Joe. Camilla, always his right-hand woman, was wearing a tank top and combats; her broad shoulders lending weight to those toned arms. Gypsy stood to his left, staring sheepishly back at Violet. “Welcome to our lair,” said Joe, phlegmatic as ever. “Told you I could persuade her.” Gypsy looked up at him, her enlarged eyes taking on the appearance of a child seeking a prize. “W-what the hell is this? Who’s he?” Violet glanced back to the silent stranger in the corner. “We know him only as The Kid,” Joe answered. “He doesn’t say much, but his reputation as a backstreet dealer precedes him. Not a good reputation I might add, but you have nothing to fear. He won’t bite unless commanded.” Violet disregarded the jest. “I thought I said no more surprises?” “As I’m sure you’re aware by now, some things Issue 34 | May 2019 |
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