Hell train, p.3
Hell Train, page 3
Conversation over, Clip leant back in her chair and pressed her skull against the headrest. The space behind her eyes throbbed, and she felt increasingly nauseated. Perhaps it was motion sickness, although it wasn’t usually something she suffered with. She just had a bad feeling. A sense that something wasn’t quite right.
I think heebie-jeebies is the medical term.
The hooded thug sitting up ahead was staring back at her again. When she made eye contact with him, he grabbed his crotch and stuck out his bright pink tongue at her in an obscene gesture.
Clip turned away, praying Xavi hadn’t seen it.
But he had.
CHAPTER 2
Xavi attempted to leap up, but Clip grabbed him by the wrist. “Please, don’t.”
“Jijo de puta! He needs teaching a lesson. Who does he think he is?”
Clip shushed him. “He’s a thug with a knife. You want him to stab you?”
“He can try.”
“He will! He will try, Xavi. Trust me, it’s not worth it. I don’t know what it’s like in Barcelona, but people don’t mess about here. We have a real problem with knife crime, and I don’t want you adding to the statistics.”
Xavi chewed at his lip for a moment, shaking his head. “He’s perving at you, Clip. Am I supposed to just sit here and let him?”
“Yes! Be the better man. Seriously, I can’t be dealing with this… with this macho bullshit.” She pressed at her temples and closed her eyes, a headache forming fast. She felt torn in two. Part of her wanted to let Xavi go – to let him teach the scumbag a lesson – but he could end up in serious trouble. He could get sent back to Spain or end up in jail. Winning a fight wasn’t better than avoiding a fight. Violence never ended well. No matter the reason for it.
Xavi clenched his fists as the two youths smirked at him from across the aisle. The air between them seemed to vibrate with the tension. Clip couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t stand it because she knew where aggression led. Where it always led.
To people getting hurt.
To me getting hurt.
Clip leapt up from her seat, causing both Xavi and the youths to glance up at her. She took a deep breath and then announced she was going to the toilet. “Sit here and wait, Xavi, okay?” She gave him a pleading look and waited until it got through to him. “Please.”
With a sigh, Xavi nodded. “Fine. Don’t be long.”
“I’ll be as long as it takes, you weirdo.” She slid out from her seat, ignoring the youth’s eyes on her, and hastened up the aisle on wobbly legs. She actually needed to pee, but mostly she just wanted to get away. To run.
The toilet cubicle was a semicircle, taking up half the width of the carriage at the front. A few more rows of seats lay beyond it, as well as a glass and metal door into the next carriage. Directly opposite the toilet was a pass-thru space. Clip pressed a big square button, and the toilet door slid open like something out of a spaceship. The train was new – it even smelled new – but it was only a matter of time before it ended up vandalised.
We can’t have nice things. Because of thugs like those I’m trying to escape. I’m running and hiding, like I always do.
Although, I really do need to pee.
Suddenly sweating, Clip stepped inside the toilet and locked the door behind her. The acrid stench of bleach overcame her, irritating her unsettled stomach further, but a few deep breaths settled it. Male aggression – it set her teeth on edge. She’d been able to tolerate it for a while, but eventually it had caused her to freak out. What made things worse was that Xavi was as much to blame as the two thugs.
Why do guys think girls like it when they act tough?
Maybe most girls do. I’m not normal. I never had a chance to be. Thanks, Richard!
It’s not his fault.
Well, it ain’t my fault either!
Clip undid her skinny jeans and lowered her lacy green underwear. She sat on the toilet and peed, shuddering as the stream hit the waterless pan like machine gun fire. She tried not to think how much stale urine coated the cold aluminium seat as it touched her buttocks, because it was too late to hover. So she stared down at her clean white pumps, examining them intently to occupy her mind.
Once her bladder was empty, and she had flushed the toilet, Clip stood in front of the small round mirror above a tiny sink. Pink streaks ran through her flaxen hair, which was tied back in a loose ponytail and in need of a wash. Her watery blue eyes appeared sad, and her purple-painted lips drooped at the corners. A bulbous vein throbbed on her forehead, a physical symptom of her anxiety. “Well, that’s unsightly.”
Needing to calm herself, she turned on the tap and splashed tepid water over her face. Train toilets weren’t the most pleasant of spaces, but this one was suitable for what she needed it to be. Sanctuary. She was enclosed. Safe. Alone.
All is well. All is calm. All is well. All is calm.
She had learned the mantra in an online group for anxiety sufferers when she had been trying to find a way to feel more positive. Whenever she became stressed, she either fell to pieces, or she mentally retreated. At her worst, she could become totally numb. It was a defence mechanism – she didn’t need her psychology textbooks to tell her that – but it was the only one she had. That and biting sarcasm.
Not my fault most people are irritating.
So much so that I have to lock myself in a toilet.
Clip had fled a tense situation to be alone where she felt safe. It was a rational decision, but also a selfish one because she had left Xavi alone with a pair of thugs hellbent on fighting him. But if she had stayed, she would have had one of her panic attacks, and that would have made things much worse. Hopefully, Xavi had the good sense to avoid trouble.
What am I thinking? I know Xavi. I shouldn’t have left him. He has a temper almost as bad as…
Help me, Clip-Clip.
Clip gasped as her reflection in the mirror suddenly changed. Staring back at her now was her younger brother, Richard, his bloody face warped in pain. Strange, mewing whimpers escaped his cracked lips. “Help me, Clip-Clip.”
“You’re not real. You’re not!” Clip rubbed at her eyes, closing them tight. When she opened them again, Richard was still there. His short blonde hair matted his forehead. His chubby nose was split open across the bridge and bleeding.
“Help me, Clip-Clip.”
Clip’s mouth fell open. Her left hand rose towards the mirror.
This isn’t real. It can’t be.
She was losing her mind.
Her index finger pressed against the cold, hard glass. Richard’s watery blue eyes, identical to her own, stared back at her. She blinked and blinked again, but he did not disappear.
The lights went out in the windowless cubicle.
Engulfed by darkness, Clip stifled a scream. Knees buckling, she collapsed against the toilet door and startled herself as it rattled in its frame.
“All is well. All is calm. All is well. All is calm. Get a hold of yourself, Clip.”
It hurts, Clip. It hurts lots. Want Mummy.
Help me, Clip-Clip.
“You’re not real,” Clip said quietly, her voice barely audible. “You’re just my memories. My trauma. This is a goddamn YouTube clip saved in my head – and I’m tired of watching it.”
Want Mummy.
“Fuck you!” Clip fumbled for the unlock button, which was thankfully still illuminated. When the door slid open, and light flooded in from the carriage, she let out a relieved sigh. The beautiful British countryside rushed by outside the window.
Clip turned back to face the mirror. Richard was gone.
Had he ever even been there?
Fuck you, brain.
Clip took a moment to slow her breathing and stop her trembling. What the hell had just happened?
First voices, now hallucinations? Am I sick? Do I need to go home?
But I feel… normal. Normal for me, at least.
The train braked, causing her to reach out and steady herself against the cubicle wall. It took her several more seconds to calm herself enough to step back out into the carriage.
The lights flickered overhead in the aisle, but the sunlight spilling through the windows made it barely noticeable. Clip’s senses were on high alert, though, so she noticed.
Xavi was still seated, which was a relief, and he smiled at Clip as she moved gingerly down the aisle towards him. The sight of her handsome Spanish boyfriend dispelled the frightful images in her mind of her bloody younger brother calling out her name.
It wasn’t real. I’m just under a lot of strain. Maybe I’m depressed. Or having a nervous breakdown.
The train continued slowing, readying to stop at the next station. The brakes squealed in mild protest, but the deceleration was smooth and deliberate. Even so, Clip had to grab the backs of the chairs for balance.
Gina glanced up from a puzzle book she was doing with Harley and smiled warmly at Clip. The two youths, however, looked her up and down and sneered. The older lad in the aisle seat winked at her again, but she tried to act as if she hadn’t noticed, and turned her back towards him as she passed. Hopefully, he would—
A groping hand caressed Clip’s buttocks. It was so unexpected that she didn’t even react. She simply turned and sat back down in her seat beside Xavi. Stunned. Her heart fluttered in her chest. Her jaws locked together. Both her hands trembled in her lap.
Xavi put a hand on Clip’s thigh and squeezed. Had he seen what had just happened? No. No way. If he had, he would already be on his feet.
“You okay?” he asked her. His dark right eyebrow arced upwards in concern. He had an expressive face as well as being handsome.
“What? Oh, yeah.” Clip forced herself to smile. “I’m fine.”
All is well. All is calm.
Xavi turned in his seat and took her hand in his. “You don’t look good, baby. What’s wrong?”
She tried to speak, but her mouth was dry.
That fucker put his hands on my body. That… that… piece of shit.
Tell Xavi. Tell him and let him break that bastard’s arm.
But what if he’s the one who gets hurt? It’s not worth it.
“I just feel a little sick,” she said. “I’m not getting enough sleep. All the studying…”
Xavi glanced past her at the two youths who were now sharing a laugh about something.
They’re laughing at me. They’re laughing about grabbing my ass.
Xavi’s expression turned suspicious. “Is it them? Are you worried? Because if you are—”
“No, it’s not them. I’m just not feeling great.”
The train reached Ronchurch station, coming to a gentle stop beside the platform. A few seconds passed before a ping heralded the doors opening. Fresh air rushed inside the carriage along with distant bird song. Clip shivered and shuffled in her seat, staring out at the sunshine. It beckoned to her, promised safety. Run!
No one waited outside on the platform, and no one in the middle carriage got off the train. Time seemed to pause for a moment.
“You want to get off?” asked Xavi, nodding to show it was okay. “Do you need some fresh air?”
Do I? Do I need to get off the train?
If I do, I’ll be late for my lecture.
I’ll probably never see those two bastards again. That piece of shit grabbing my ass will become just a bad memory. One that haunts me only occasionally because it will have to compete with all the other bad memories.
But why should I have to miss my lecture? Why should my life suffer because of two idiots? What right do they have to intimidate and upset me? If I get off the train now, I’ll accept being a victim, and I can’t do that. I won’t!
“I’m fine, babe,” she said to Xavi. “Just open the window for me and I’ll be fine. If I puke, I’ll try not to get any on you.”
Xavi stared at her for a moment, then nodded and stood up. He cracked the horizontal pane at the top of the window and kissed the top of her head. “I’m here, Clip. I’ll take care of you.”
The only person who has ever taken care of me is me. Clip nearly said it out loud. Everyone else has let me down.
A beep sounded, and the doors slid closed again. A train driver strolled along on the platform outside, heading towards some concrete steps. He obviously wasn’t the one in charge, because the train started moving again.
Another thirty minutes until I reach my station. What can possibly go wrong in half an hour?
I hope I don’t find out.
The youth who had assaulted Clip leered back at her and slowly licked his lips. Her opportunity to leave had just expired. She hoped she didn’t regret it.
But part of her already did.
All is well. All is calm.
CHAPTER 3
The lights continued flickering. The toilet door near the end of the carriage was open, the dark space inside like a passageway into her nightmares.
Why did I see Richard in the mirror?
Why did I hear his voice?
To occupy her fidgeting hands, Clip slid her phone out of her handbag and checked the time on the cracked screen. A quarter past one. Her lecture was at two, which she would just about make thanks to the university having its own train station. Xavi’s lecture was later, but he had wanted to travel in with her. He would probably grab a coffee while he waited for his own lesson to begin. Perhaps afterwards Clip would stay the night at his flat. It was dingy and cramped, but it beat going home. Especially when she was stressed, like she was right now.
There was a text on her phone from her mum, but it was merely to ask if Richard had taken his tablets that morning. He had, of course – when had she ever forgotten? Never – but Clip didn’t bother replying to let her know.
Her head was a mess of negativity. She could still feel the uninvited hand clasping her buttocks, and she had to fight back tears, not wanting to tip off Xavi that everything was not okay. Her emotions were a hurricane of anger, shock, and disgust. Not to mention a big dose of fear. She tried to keep it all inside.
She decided the best way to avoid the youths – or specifically the mouthy one who had grabbed her ass – was simply to not look at them, so she turned towards Xavi in the window seat and occupied herself by talking. “What would the weather be like now at home?”
Xavi turned to her. He had unbuttoned his puffer jacket and exposed the thin red T-shirt underneath that covered his chiselled chest. “In early April? It will just be getting warm. Ten, fifteen degrees. Warm enough that you can relax in the garden, but not so hot that it saps your strength. The larger beaches will open soon, and towards the end of the month the sea will turn warm and gentle.” He pinched the point of her chin between his thumb and forefinger, something he often did as an affectionate gesture. “Travel back there with me, Clip,” he urged. “You will love it.”
She nodded. “I visited Spain once when I was, like, eight, but I don’t really remember it. I don’t think it’s far enough away from my family. How about we move to Mexico? That’s Spanish-ish, isn’t it?”
He looked deep into her eyes. “Come home with me at Christmas and meet my madre. I’ve told her all about you.”
Clip pushed a loose strand of pink hair behind her ear and blushed. “Really?”
“Of course. She is terrified that I will fall in love with an English girl and never come home again. If you travel back with me, she can work on you moving to Spain.”
“What if she doesn’t like me?”
“What’s not to like?”
Clip raised a tawny eyebrow. “Besides me being cold, untrusting, and stubborn?”
Xavi gently squeezed her hand. His tanned skin was always so soft and warm. “You’re not what you think you are, Clip. Acting cold isn’t the same as being cold.”
“Might as well be. Doesn’t make your life any easier, does it?”
“At least it gives me hope I can one day reach your heart, baby. You might even let me meet your familia one day.”
She groaned and went to turn away. No, don’t clam up. He cares about you. That’s not a crime. “You know what they’re like, Xavi. Why would you want to meet them?”
“To give them a piece of my mind and demand that they treat you better, like the delicate gazania you are.”
“Not everything has to be a fight, Xavi. Anyway, my family isn’t so bad. Things are just difficult with my brother.” My brother who has just been haunting me in the toilet despite being very much alive. “Richard kind of monopolises their existence. Mine, too.”
Xavi nodded thoughtfully. “What does he have again?”
“Prader-Willi syndrome. Basically, he’s a greedy git with a bad temper.”
Xavi creased up and laughed, his dark brown eyes squinting as he shook his head. “Ay, Clip, that is terrible!”
Clip chuckled, a modicum of her tension draining away. She could always count on her dark sense of humour to help with that. “I know I shouldn’t be so harsh. His condition makes him hungry – like always hungry – so he puts on a lot of weight. He has learning difficulties, too, and if he doesn’t get his own way, he lashes out – usually at me. It’s not his fault. It’s tough for him.”
Xavi looked her in the eyes, and for a moment she felt completely safe. His voice dripped with sincerity as he spoke. “Why don’t your folks put him in a hospital or something?”
“Because Richard’s their son, and most of the time he’s pretty sweet. He has these little sayings that always make us laugh, and if you stick an iPad in front of him, he’s not much trouble at all. The problem is, we all have to organise our lives around him so that he’s happy. It doesn’t matter what the rest of us want.”
“You mean what you want?” said Xavi.
She shrugged. “Things didn’t used to be so bad. When Richard was younger, he was less aggressive – or maybe he was just smaller, I don’t know – but now he’s almost six foot and twenty stone. When he lashes out, it… it hurts. And not just physically.”
“What do you mean?”
Clip sighed. She could sense herself taking a step backwards in her brain, her words becoming harder and harder to get out of her mouth. Talking could be so exhausting, especially when it concerned herself. “My parents do the best they can, but they just can’t control him sometimes. If I dare complain, they blame me for being selfish and not caring about Richard’s condition. I do care, but I also hate my life because of him. At least, I hate it when I’m not with you.”
