The World Out There - 2. Two

Liam glanced up at his room’s door which was still firmly closed and locked. It was held closed by a black, metal lock which Donna had quickly shown him how to double-lock it… and he always did. It was double-locked now. The door itself was wooden with two recessed panels, one at eye height and one at knee height. It had once been painted bright- gloss white, but over the years, that had faded to a dull cream, streaked with dirt and grease. The door was as old and neglected as the rest of the room.

Next to it was what passed for the room’s wardrobe: six metal hooks screwed into the wall. He’d hung his clothes off these hooks, but he had so few clothes that two of the hooks were still empty. His pale blue cotton shirt hung on a hook on its own as he didn’t want it getting creased or torn. It was his favourite shirt – he’d bought it on a shopping trip with Aiden. It had been bought for him to wear when he left Nurton Cross, and he kept it for “best”. He’d only worn it for his meetings with Bryn. He kept his underwear, socks and t-shirts in the plastic box on the floor under the hooks, he’d guessed that was what it was intended for. No one had told him.

He knew no one in that hotel and he was sure no one knew him, certainly not his real name. Donna had brought him to this place, but she’d spent so little time here, he’d actually heard her rushing down the stairs when she left. That way, he was almost certain she’d told no one here who he was. For the first time in years, he was a nobody again, and for a moment, it had even begun to feel good, but only for a moment. For once, everyone around him didn’t know who he was. However, that had all ended that morning.

Every day he went out to the local supermarket to buy his food for the day. There was nowhere in his room to keep food fresh. Even though today was Sunday, he’d still walked around to that supermarket.

He was standing in the short queue, waiting for one of the two self-service tills to become free, the few things he was going to buy in the plastic basket in his hand. Then he saw it. Next to him was the rack of magazines and newspapers, stretching up to almost head-height. Just below his eyeline, filling two rows, were the day’s newspapers. And right in the middle was The Sun on Sunday. The front-page headline screamed out: “This Monster Is Now Free!” Underneath it were two, oblong pictures, both in blurred colour. The first one was of him, aged twelve, his hair awkwardly parted at the side and an almost scowl on his face. The other picture was titled “digitally aged” and tried to show him as they thought he looked now. His hair was shown as still unrulily, short and side-parted, not centre-parted and touching his collar as it really was now. The picture showed his cheeks as still being puffy and his face as round and podgy as it was when he was twelve, not the thin body and face he’d grown into. But the face was still recognisably his: his eyes were the same, staring out of the picture and back at him.

Liam’s mind had stopped in a cold moment of shock. He couldn’t move. They knew about him and were chasing after him. He could barely think: all he could see was that newspaper’s front page. His body moved, almost on automatic pilot. He stepped forward to the empty self-service till, scanned through his few items and paid for them with barely a thought to what he was doing. It was only as he stepped out of the supermarket that the panic gripped his mind. They were after him! There was a picture of his face on a national newspaper, announcing his old name. Everyone could see, Everyone could know who he was. He really wasn’t safe anymore. No more did he fear a single person recognising him: now the whole world could recognise him. He fled back to the B&B hotel, running up all four flights, not caring about the noise he made, ignoring the rapid breathing catching in his throat, rushing back into his room, slamming the door behind him and locking it firmly. Only then did he feel safe enough to stop. It was all happening again. He could hear all those voices again screaming for his blood, demanding he be killed too, coming after him. He felt like he was twelve all over again, and he just wanted to hide away in a corner until it had all gone away. But it hadn’t gone away, even when he was twelve.