My alarm causes me to jerk awake. Quick as a flash, I grab my phone from the table and switch it off. The quicker I’m out of here, the better.

It takes me a while to get up. I fumble around for my clothes, too scared to turn the light on lest Mum sees and catches on. But it’s hard to be quiet, especially with a room so messy.

I hop down the stairs, balancing my weight on the bannisters so I don’t touch the creaky steps. Then I pad to the door, swiftly open it, and I’m out of the house.

An owl calls to my left but I pay it no heed. I only have one thought and that’s to meet Megan, hear what she has to say, and be done with the whole thing as quickly as possible.

Street lamps light my way. There’s no one about; the roads are empty and silent, and I find it relaxing.

When I reach the park gates, I realise my mistake. I can’t get to the tennis courts inside since the gate is locked. I swivel around, trying to find another route, but there is none.

And then there’s a figure behind me, and Megan’s face comes into view, lit up by a street lamp. Maybe it’s the way it shines down on her face but she looks worse than usual.

“You took your time,” she says. Her voice is more gravelly today. Perhaps it’s because she’s only just woken up.

“We can’t get in,” I reply.

“No need. I just said meet at the courts so that we both knew where we were going.”

“And so why are we here?”

“Pay-back time. I told you.”

“And what are we doing for pay-back?”

“All in good time, Dixon.”

“Don’t call me that.”

She cocks her head to the side but her eyes tell me she knows exactly what I’m talking about.

“You pronounce it like Dickson.”

There’s a flicker of a smile. “It’s amusing.”

I can only cross my arms at that comment. “Right. Well hurry up. Don’t offend me and then waste my time.”

She leads the way down the streets. The darkness seems to swallow us up whole. It’s only a few metres down when Megan produces something from her pocket - I recognise it to be a car key. A second later, there’s an orange tell-tale flash of headlights.

“Get in.”

“Where are we going?”

“Hairdressers.”

I slide into the passenger’s seat. The light comes on above our heads, illuminating leather seats and a glossy bonnet.

“Eighteenth birthday present,” Megan says smugly. “It cost—”

“I don’t give a shit about how much it cost. Just drive.”

She doesn’t reply to that. Only starts up the engine and revs it with a smirk.

Then we’re racing down the road, houses whipping past us, engine roaring in our ears.

“My Dad,” Megan says suddenly, “is obsessed with your Mum.”

“I know,” I reply coldly. And then it’s back to silence again.

After barely any time, and probably a hundred speeding tickets later, we arrive at the salon.

It looks different at night. The dark gloom gives nothing away of its interior, but I’m still left with an uneasy feeling at the sight of it.

This is the place where my mother got raped.

I take a steady breath as Megan looks left and right before sliding a key into the lock, twisting it, and the small but satisfying click reaches our ears.

“Where did you get the key?” I murmur as we walk inside.

“Dad’s wallet,” she replies. “We have to do it at night since he leaves his office key in here overnight and keeps it on him at all times during the day and there are no spares. And, of course, I wanted to add to the whole James Bond feel.”

“We’re going to his office?” I ask in surprise.

Megan just gives me a knowing smile and beckons me to follow her in.
It’s colder than I remember. Whether it be because the sun has gone down and there are no rays hitting the glass panes or because the heating has gone off, it’s freezing and I still wrap my jacket tighter around me.

There’s another small click and a feeble few rays seep into the room. Megan has turned on the lamp at the front desk, the one which illuminates the visitors book.

“Right, get to work,” she says. “First to the store room.” She turns around as though to leave but then stops dead in her tracks. “Oh, crap. Sorry, I didn’t realise. Maybe it’s best if you don’t go in there since that’s where everything happened.”

I glance at the floor. “No, I can handle it.” Although I don’t think I can.

We pass all of the chairs and mirrors but I don’t glance at myself because I know the bags under my eyes will be at their worst.

We reach the store room at the back. Megan sits on the floor and rummages around a backpack I didn’t even remember her having. Then she pulls out a packet of something but the lighting is so low I can’t tell what it is.

“Purple hair dye,” she says as though in answer to my thought.

I snort and it seems to come out too loud in the silence.

“I’ll put it in the shampoo on his tray. Then he’ll get a hell of a beating next time he uses it.”

That’s not enough, I think. He deserves something harsher.

And then I remember that we’ll be doing other things in his office so maybe this night will be better than I first imagined.

I try not to breathe in the dust particles as Megan gets to work and I don’t dare let my eyes wander to the space where Mum and Andre were last time.

“Done,” says Megan as she recaps the bottle and shoves the now-empty packet of dye back into her bag.

We move silently, stealthily, like two assassins.

His office door is next. She opens this one easily and then we’re inside.

“What are we doing in here?” I ask.

“Pass me the cheque book.”

I get a thrill at that. I scrabble around the mess that is his desk until I find it located in one of his drawers. Megan plucks a pen from the pot and then starts writing a cheque for my mother.

“How much do you want?” she murmurs. “Couple grand?”

“More,” I say, joking.

“More it is, then,” she murmurs, hard at work with her numbers.

“I was only kidding!” I jump in. “Honestly, don’t—”

“Shh,” she snaps. “I’m concentrating.”

I can only wait in a pained silence as she continues adding zeros to the total box at the bottom of the page.

“There,” she says, handing it to me. “A million bucks fresh from my Dad’s wallet as compensation.”

I take a step back. “I can’t accept that.”

“Take it,” she says forcefully. “We have a lot of money to spare. You should see the amount he spent on our sailing holiday around the Caribbean last year.”

I shake my head. “I don’t care. I’m not taking it.”

She shrugs. “Fine, but it’ll end up in your mother’s hands anyway.” And with that she tucks it away in the back of her pocket. “Now, I need to discuss something with you.”

“What is it?”

“A negotiation of some sorts. A deal.”

I sigh internally. I knew it’d come to something like this. “Which is?”

“You lay off Dayson and don’t cause anymore hassle with my father and I won’t tell your mum about your boyfriend and his involvement in Gabe’s gang or any of the illegal acts that he’s been doing because we both know that he’s been quite a naughty, naughty boy.”

“So you’re blackmailing me.”

“Essentially.”

I consider the terms. As long as I can get Mum off my back about Amias the better, but causing less hassle with Andre?

“I won’t do it,” I tell her. “I can’t go lightly on your dad as much as you’ve done to help me out. What he did was a crime and I’m never going to forgive and back down”

“But he’s my Dad,” Megan snarls. There’s so much anger in her voice that it almost sends me to silence.

“And she’s my Mum,” I say louder.

“Look at you,” sneers Megan. “After everything I do for you and you can’t even go lightly on my father.”

Go lightly on him.

Did she? Did she actually?

“He fucking raped her for fuck’s sake!” I yell.

“You know what? Screw the car journey home.” She turns until she’s at the door. A small smile crosses her lips and it’s not a nice one. It’s a mirror image of the one I saw in the canteen and it scares me. “Have a lovely snooze.”

In an instant I realise what she’s about to do. I start for the door but she only chuckles and then there’s a horrendous slam.

“Let me out!” I roar, hammering my fists against the door. “Megan!”

There is childish giggle from the other side.

“I thought we’d be able to start anew,” Megan calls. “But it seems you were always a bitch.”

“Fuck you!” I scream.

There’s no reply. I can only hear the faint buzzing which I think is the printer.

His office is small. There’s not much in it, only the standard desk and chair and pot of pens and paperclips. There’s nothing personal. It’s like he’s a clean slate.

I don’t know how I long I stand there for, slamming the door with my fists. I turn round, determined to find something to aid in my escape but after ramming the desk chair at the door a couple of times and jingling a deformed paper clip in the lock, I sit back in defeat.

Tiredness crashes into me and only then do I remember to check the time. One-seventeen. I lean back against the door, a sigh escaping my lips.

There are no windows, only this one door which I can’t get through.

I check my phone for any messages. Then I text Mum a heartfelt and frantic message. But I know she’ll be asleep and won’t see it until tomorrow morning. I then debate calling the landline but then she’ll be groggy and who knows if she’ll have an office key.

And then I remember what Megan told me. There’s only one office key and she has it.

I ram my head backwards in frustration only for it to collide with the doorframe. But I’m so engrossed in the pain that I don’t process the bleep of my phone until a few seconds later. Scrabbling for it, I scroll for the most recent message.

Amias: I see you’re awake

Amias: Can’t sleep?

I almost rejoice in those words. Because he’s awake too. And there might be a way out of here.

Chandy: I’m locked in Andre’s office

Chandy: Megan locked me in

Amias: Who’s Megan and WHY?

Chandy: A bitch. We were getting payback at her dad

Amias: You have a lot to explain

I pull my hands away from the keyboard, wondering if I should spill the tea with everything that’s been going on.

You’ve got all night, I think.

Chandy: It’s a long story

Amias: Can we call then

[incoming call] – Amias

I pick up and there’s an overflow of emotion at the sound of his voice.

“Chandy?” he asks softly.

“Yeah,” I say back. “It’s a long story.”

“Fire away.”

So I launch into the story and soon Amias is in on everything, what happened with Mum, with Dad, with Dayson, with Megan, everything.

And I don’t regret telling him any of it.

“That’s horrifying,” he says after listening in rapt silence. “Everything’s so fucked up. And that Megan has been such a bitch to you.”

“Tell me about it,” I grumble.

“Wait there,” he orders suddenly. “Where did you say this salon was?”

“Beverly Way. On the A3.”

“Well. I just came home after a long night but one of the lads parked his car outside so I’ll ask if I can use that.”

“What happened to yours?” I don’t want to think about what he’d been doing with the ‘lads’.

“Got towed away because I parked it where it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Because?”

He stutters a little. “Because... Well, um.”

“You can come clean to me,” I say gently. “No need for lies.”

“I would never lie to you. And you’re right.” He sighs. “You confided in me with all your shit so I’ll tell you mine.”

“Come on,” I say with a smile. “I’ve got all night.”

He laughs. “I was parked on a double line in front of a jewellery store."

“Mhm. Go on.”

“Can’t you guess from that?” he asks sounding pained.

“No. I want you to say the words. You’d tell me your shit. Remember?”

“All right. Gabe was planning on breaking into the shop to steal a few jewels tonight.”

“And did he?”

“No. Because I stopped him.”

That makes me pause. Amias stopped him? So perhaps he was right. Maybe he isn’t the monster after all.

“Didn’t he put up a fight?” I ask, leaning forward.

“Yeah,” he says grimly.

“Are you hurt?” If I could throw that question down the phone line I would. “Did he hurt you?”

There’s a pause. “Yeah.”

“Oh Lord. How bad?”

“Never mind,” he says. “Just wait till I get there. Me being pain isn’t as bad as you being locked in a stuffy office.”

And then he hangs up. And I’m left waiting with the whirling printer once again.