Weeping Lily - 4. Chapter 4

Detective Inspector Blake wasn’t watching the clock. If he had been he would have seen it was past midnight. On any normal day he would have been home hours ago, would by now have been chilling with a cold beer or, even better, in bed with his beautiful wife. But this was not a normal day; this was the day on which one of the biggest up and coming stars of the decade went missing on his patch and, as if that wasn’t bad enough, it transpired that his daughter was a Weeping Lily fan and had told him in no uncertain terms that she would never forgive him if he let anything bad happen to Jayden.

For himself, he was impatient with the whole thing. He did not set much store in fame and he had enough troubles without the media circus thrown up by this little stunt. He had no intention of pandering to a gang of prima donna freaks. He was already beginning to hate Jayden McConnell.

The photograph he had been looking at went spinning into the waste paper basket. Bloody weirdo’s, kids playing at real life. What the hell did they know about real darkness? Spoiled, pampered namby pamby posers, all so fucking perfect; pretty boys, not a real man among them.

The door opened and he looked up annoyed. “You had better have a very good reason for disturbing me sergeant.”

“I believe I may have, sir.”

“Go on.”

“I went back to the club, sir, earlier on. I spoke to the staff, not all of them were in last night but one of the bouncers who was had a very interesting piece of information about someone who was at the club but not on the guest list.”

“Interesting. You have my attention.”

“The boss’s daughter. No one is going to say ‘no’ to the daughter of one of the owners.”

“Does she pitch up often?”

“Nope, never set foot across the threshold. In fact no one I spoke to has the first idea what she looks like. So I did a little research, found a photograph and went back. One of the bar staff remembers seeing her talking to Jayden AND the bar manager let slip that the reason the bar hosted the party in the first place was because Daddy’s little girl is a big fan of Weeping Lily.”

“Is she now? Do you have a name?”

“Anabelle Finchley. Daddy’s a big name in investment banking. As well as the club he has a stake in properties and businesses all over the city. Anabelle dropped out of school at 14 to travel the world with her mother, settled back in London about 18 months ago and has been working as a clinical technician at the Bradford Clinic ever since.”

“The Bradford Clinic? Where have I heard that name before?”

“That plastic surgery place a few months ago... investigation regarding criminal negligence.”

“Ah yes... the exploding breasts.”

“Don't go there. Anyway Anabelle being a clinical technician had not only knowledge of but access to a whole range of drugs.”

“So do half the teenagers in Chelsea. Sorry Doug, it’s been a long day. Have you checked her out yet?”

“I’ve spoken to the head honcho at the clinic, as you can imagine he wasn’t best pleased to see us again.

Apparently the kid is a good worker, pretty, quiet, no hassle. Doesn’t have many friends, never been off sick, never missed a day. Mind you that might have something to do with the fact that Mummy also works at the clinic and Daddy owns a nice chunk of it.”

“Hmmm... go back to the clinic and go through their records with a fine tooth comb. See if anything has gone missing in the past few months.”

“Already on it. There are two techies there right now.”

“Excellent. Do you think it’s too early to have a good chat with the girl?”

“At least six hours.”

“Then take her photo round to the hotel and shake up the pretty little Goth boys.”

“I get the impression you are not a Weeping Lily fan, boss.” The stare would have frozen lava. “What do you have against them? They’re not bad as Goth bands go. That kid, Jayden, has a crazy voice, wild. You should listen to some of their stuff.”

“Yeah right!”

“Don't you think...?”

“Just get over to the hotel and get an ID on the girl.”

“Yes boss.”

He didn’t, as he had expected, wake the boys, as they were still pacing their hotel room, more like caged lions than ever. The telephone was still ringing constantly and there seemed to be more press camped outside than before.

“Have you found anything? Have you found Jayden?”

“I don’t know. We possibly have a lead. I have another photograph for you to look at.”

“Sure thing, hand it over.”

The boys poured over the photograph, frowning. “I don’t know. It could be.”

“It’s hard to tell. She’s so... ordinary.”

“On the other hand, maybe that does... I mean no one there last night was... ordinary, no one except her. It could be.”

“But you can’t be sure.”

They all shook their heads. “You are going to talk to her aren’t you?”

“Oh yes, we are certainly going to talk to her. Don’t worry about that. We’ll find him.”

“That’s not what we’re worried about, what we’re worried about is what you’ll find.”

He ducked his head and was gone. They exchanged glances knowing he had misunderstood.

DI Blake made it home by one thirty. He poured himself a drink and, despite his best intentions, wandered over to the stereo. He didn’t have to look far for what he was seeking, it was lying on the top. Laurie must have been playing it. He could imagine her enthusing to her mother, crying. Her mother would have reassured her that her father would come through for her.

Impatiently, almost angrily, he thrust the CD into the stereo. The sound that came out took him completely by surprise. These kids had some talent... they were... good. They could play their instruments for sure and the singer was... while he was not a fan of the style of music there was something about it that appealed to him... the quality of the playing, the depth of the words, and especially that incredible voice... they were hypnotic. There was a purity about it, a certain clarity that, at times made him smile and at others brought him to the verge of tears or raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

He listened to three songs and then turned off the stereo and went to bed.

**************

Jayden had never felt so strange in all his life. It was as though his body was asleep, a lump of clay that had very little to do with him at all, while his mind was wide awake and racing. Thoughts tumbled over one and other, memories, impressions, ideas, understandings, but none of it mattered. He was so detached it was as though he was watching himself on television. It was mildly interesting but didn’t really have anything to do with him.

“Jayden? Can you hear me?”

The question puzzled him slightly. Why would she think he couldn’t hear her, she was standing right next to him, after all, not a foot away? He meant to tell her so, tried to but his body, including his throat and lips were heavy and un cooperative. It took a little work to squeeze out a ‘Yes.’

“That’s good. Do you feel like talking to me Jayden?”

“No.”

“Alright, fair enough. Will you talk to me?”

“Yes.”

Bella sat down and stroked his face His eyes were half open, distant as the stars. He did not respond to her touch, did not give any sign that he was remotely aware of her presence.

“Did your parents hurt you Jayden?”

He didn’t even think about it, the question was no different to the last. There was no emotion attached, no pain, only the same mild interest, sifting through the memories, noting the relevant parts.

“Yes.”

“Did they hurt you a lot?”

“Yes.”

“Um... did they hit you with their hands or something else?”

“Both.”

“What did they hit you with?”

He paused for a time, patiently sifting memories. “Many things... mostly things that don’t leave marks. They were afraid of leaving marks.”

“What kind of things?”

“Rubber pipe, rope, a whip... they were punishments. When I was... bad... when they were... were angry... whatever was... close.”

“Why did they punish you?”

“For being me.”

“Did they hit you every day?”

“Yes.”

“Did they punish you ever day?”

“No.”

“How often did they punish you?”

“Just... sometimes.”

“What did they do to you? When they punished you, what did they do? Did they hurt you a lot?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

With a growing sense of horror and utter shock Bella listened as Jayden described in a completely flat, emotionless voice how he had been violently, systematically and repeatedly beaten and abused in the most vile and depraved manner.

Her grip on his hand tightened as he spoke without the slightest flicker of emotion, forcing out the words in a breathy, slurred, half whisper. It was surreal. She couldn’t reconcile the Jayden she was hearing about, the helpless frightened child, with the strong, vibrant character she knew.

Tears sprang to her eyes as he told her that, as he grew older, the tone and nature of the abuse changed, became more sexual although no less violent.

“What was the last time, the last thing they did?”

She shivered as he told her of a terrifying prolonged night of horror when he was douched with the same rubber tubing which was then used to tie him and beat him almost unconscious before he was repeatedly raped, abused, assaulted and beaten again and again.

“What had you done? What on earth had you done to provoke them into doing that to you?”

“We had a gig... the band. We were practising for a gig on Saturday night but they wanted me to babysit and I said no.”

“That’s all? Just because you wouldn’t babysit?”

“No... they were... they were jealous of Cal. They didn’t like him... didn’t want him to be my friend. They said I had to never see him again.”

“But the band was all you had.”

Jayden didn’t respond, merely lay quiet and still, not concerned, not involved, not there. He hadn’t been asked a question and so there was no drive to answer.

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen.”

“What did you do? Did you ever tell anyone?”

“Yes.”

“You did? Who? Was it the boys? The band?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell anyone else? The police?”

“Not the police, no.”

“Anyone else?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“The doctors.”

“Doctors? I don’t... Were you badly hurt? Did you have to go to hospital?”

“Hospital. Yes. And then... and then... a... different one.”

“A different one? A different hospital?”

“Yes.”

“Did you get hurt again?”

“No... no I... I ... hurt someone.”

“You hurt someone?”

“Yes.”

“But... how were you in hospital because you hurt someone?”

“Because I was... out of control. They said I was... dangerous.”

“Dangerous? What kind of hospital were you in?”

“Psychiatric.”

“Fuck. I see. How long were you there?”

“Six months.”

“Shit. Six months in the nut house... and you say I’m the crazy one.” Jayden remained silent. He was beginning to seem less focussed, more absent. “Who did you hurt?”

“Cal.”

“Cal? From the band?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you hurt him?”

“I don’t know. He was... there.”

“How did you hurt him?”

“I hit him.”

“You hit him? Just once?”

“No. I was... The day after... the... I couldn’t go to school... couldn’t walk... couldn’t bear... the... the pain. I had.... had a jamming session... gig coming. I tried... I really tried but... too hard... too much... pain. They... shouted at me... Cal said... he said I... I was too... too fucked up... I always fuck up. They carried me... they... covered for me... I am a waste of space, no commitment, no loyalty, don’t care, don’t deserve... pretty face and a nice voice... not enough.”

“Is that what he said to you?”

Jayden frowned deeply, for the first time showing emotion, a struggle within. “Yes.”

“And you hit him?”

“I... freaked out. I was... was in so... so much pain. I couldn’t think, couldn’t bear it. I just... flew at him... knocked him over and... and hit him... over and over, banging his head on the floor.

“The... others pulled me off. He was... so... still... I thought... I thought I had... had killed him and... I fought. I fought them all... and the police when they came... and the doctors. I kept on fighting until they drugged me.”

“What was it like? The hospital?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t... remember.”

“Because they drugged you?”

“Yes.”

“The whole time?”

“Yes.”

“For six months?”

“Yes.”

“How did you get out?”

“Cal.”

“Cal got you out?”

“Yes. His... family. I... went there.”

“The hospital released you to his family?”

“No. They found a doctor, a good one she... she got me out... helped me.... got me... off... off the drugs and... and fixed me.”

“Fixed you? Helped you deal with what happened to you?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t deal with it did you? You didn’t deal with it at all. You just buried it.”

“Yes.”

“You learned to lie, to hide things.”

“Yes.”

“How long did you stay with Cal?”

“Until after the trial.”

“What trial?”

“My parents.”

“Did they go to prison?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“A long time.”

“Is that why your sisters still hate you?”

“No, they have always hated me.”

“What did you do after?”

“They helped me... get my own place... get... get into college and... and finish school.”

“How old were you then?”

“Almost seventeen.”

“So you got a place and a job, finished your education... and then the band took off.”

“Yes.”

“So Cal forgave you.”

“Yes.”

“Was he badly hurt?”

“No.”

“That’s good. Fuck Jayden, I had no idea, not a clue. You’ve managed to keep that quiet.” Suddenly she smiled. “I knew it. I knew you were strong, so much more than a pretty face. You are, aren’t you... so much more.”

“I... I don’t... I don’t know.”

“That’s okay, it wasn’t a question. You have to let go of all that now Jayden. It’s in the past. It’s all in the past, all over now. It happened to you but it’s not who you are, not a part of you at all. You have to put it behind you and know that who you are is a very strong and beautiful person.”

The struggle was intensifying, the feeling of detachment ebbing away and a sense of wrongness, a looming fear was growing like a cancer, spreading through the calm lassitude, raging like a forest fire.

“Alright Jayden, I think you’ve had enough for now. You’ve given me a wonderful gift and I am tremendously grateful. I have to work tomorrow so you can have a nice long sleep. You’ll feel better then, better that all of this is off your chest.”

Jayden fought against the drug, fought it with every last ounce of strength he had. There was no physical strength. His body was no more than a lump of putty. He watched her lift his hand but felt nothing, nothing at all. Even when she fiddled with the needle in his arm, muttering and mumbling and then yanked it out causing bright red blood to spurt, running down his arm to be lost in the soft blackness of the quilt. Even then he felt nothing.

The struggle was wholly within and the only sign of it on the outside was an increase in the speed of his breathing and the rapid flickering of his eyelids, neither of which Bella noticed as she as busy running her fingers over the inside of his arm, looking for a place to re site the IV line, ignoring the blood which was pumping to the rhythm of the beat of his heart making his arm slippery and sticky.

Not all of the drug had made it into his system because of the problem with the IV that was causing Bella so much frustration and he began to throw it off. The first that Bella knew was when his arm jerked and he groaned. By now his arm was a mess and the pain was beginning to get through to him.

“Bella...”

“Hush, Jayden. Stop fighting it. I’m having some problems here.”

“No... noooooo.” There was real pain is his voice and, when she looked up his face was flushed and twisted, slick with sweat.

“Stop it Jayden. You are supposed to be asleep.”

With a sigh she abandoned her efforts and, for the first time she realised what she had done.

“Damn it. That stupid chamber’s blocked. The whole thing is fucking useless. You didn’t get it did you? You didn’t get the drug. Fuck. I’m sorry baby. I wanted to make it easier for you, but I haven’t have I? Never mind. I’ll fix it. I’ll clean you up and you’ll be fine. I’ll get more stuff tomorrow.”

“Bella... don’t... Please... it hurts.” He was only half conscious, confused and in pain, emotionally and physically. “Stop it, please stop it.”

“Ssh now. It’s alright. I know it hurts but it won’t for long. It's alright. I’ll get it sorted. Just sleep now. Sleep my love, I’m here.”

Jayden gasped when the needle slid into his arm but, even without the strap around his wrist, he would not have been able to pull away as his body was still far from under his control. His eyes flew wide but were unfocussed even before the drug started to take hold.

“I told you I would look after you and I will. You will be fine. But you have to help yourself a little bit baby. Don’t fight, just relax. Go to sleep now.”

She stroked his forehead watching him lose the fight, surprised by how it affected her. Already shaken by the things he had disclosed to her Bella found herself on shifting sands. She had been so sure about what she was doing, that it was good, it was right, it would bring them together in the end, but suddenly she was not so sure.

He had been hurt, so hurt by so many people and now he was being hurt again, by her. A tremendous wave of tenderness washed over her as she took in the blood, still running freely over his arm, soaking into the bedclothes, the torn and bruised flesh, the face, the beautiful face, so pale, twisted with pain.

“Oh Jayden. Oh my love. What have I done? You are an angel, a pure, sweet angel. Everyone has hurt you, tried to pull you down but you have risen above it, you have flown my dearest one, and I was trying to hold you, to stop you from flying.

“Don’t worry. Don't be afraid. I won’t hold you any more. I will let you fly. You should never have been tied down. Tonight, my love, tonight we will fly and no one will ever hurt you again.”

She stood watching, smoothing his hair and holding his hand until his rapid, ragged breathing slowed and his eyes rolled upwards under fluttering lids. He gave one long low moan and then was still and silent. It frightened her and she had to stand for a long time, her fingers pressed against his wrist, reassuring herself that his pulse was strong and steady.

After a few half hearted wipes of his arms with an antiseptic wipe which served nothing but to smear the blood, she taped on a sterile dressing then stood, staring at him. She flipped the quilt so that the blood was hidden and pulled it up over his chest to the throat. The black covers made his face look even paler. Relaxed in sleep it was the face of an angel, white marble framed by ebony silk.

Bella sighed deeply and smiled, her heart suddenly soaring, filled with joy at the rightness of what she had resolved.

Her fingers trailed over the rows of bottles in the wooden box before opening a small drawer at the front and taking out another one. She looked at it for a while then put it on the table with two new syringes and closed the box.