Warhol's Prophecy

Anger now began to enter his mind, but it disappeared rapidly.

The fear returned.

He heard more movement. Realized that his captor was standing only feet away.

The pain in his leg had not diminished and each movement brought fresh waves of agony.

For frenzied moments he struggled to free his hands, then gave up and slumped back exhausted.

His captor had moved closer now. Layton felt a hand against his thigh. Against the protruding bone that stuck out through his torn skin and ripped jeans.

It was that same hand that gripped the marrow-weeping bone and pulled.

Pain unlike anything he had ever experienced before enveloped his entire body.

Inside the gag he shrieked in unimaginable agony, felt consciousness slipping away from him, but a series of sharp slaps to his face kept him hanging on. Denied him the oblivion of a blackout.

Blows began to rain down all over his legs.

Blows that combined effortless expertise with tremendous power. Blows with the same heavy object that had first struck his head. Blows that shattered more bone.

The tibia splintered with a harsh crack.

The patella of the right knee took three whacks before it finally broke.

The left one went after just one thunderous strike.

This time he could not retain consciousness and he welcomed the darkness, but it would not come. More sharp blows to his face. Water splashed onto his cheeks and something freezing cold against his neck that he realized instantly was a blade.

Tears were coursing down his cheeks. Pain? Fear?

His entire lower body felt as if it was ablaze.

Then he felt another blow, this time to his shoulder.

The left clavicle broke easily.

So did the right.

The knife was pressed against his cheek again.

Drawn quickly across it to open the flesh to the bone.

When he felt hands pulling at his shirt, ripping it open, he prayed to a God he didn’t believe in to help him.

When those same hands tore open his trousers and tugged them down slightly, he began to sob uncontrollably.

When the tip of the blade was forced into the eye of his shrivelled penis he prayed for death.

It was a long time coming.

96

AS HAILEY WALKED into the sitting room, Rob said nothing. He merely tapped his watch and shook his head.

‘All right,’ she said, kicking off her shoes, ‘I’m sorry. I know it’s late. I did phone, if you remember.’

‘Yeah, two fucking hours ago,’ he snapped. ‘It’s after eleven, Hailey.’

‘I know what time it is, Rob, and I said I’m sorry. If I could have been here any quicker I would have been.’

‘When you went back to work for Jim Marsh, you said it would be part-time. You didn’t say anything about being out until all hours of the fucking night.’

‘Don’t exaggerate. It couldn’t be helped – you know that. I didn’t want this any more than you.’

‘That’s two nights this week you’ve been out so late. What about Becky?’

‘You’re her father. It doesn’t do you any harm to look after her once in a while. How many nights have you been out late? Or how many nights didn’t you come home at all?’

‘Don’t start that shit again.’

‘Then how many times do I have to say I’m sorry? This gig is important to Jim. It’s important to me. I’ve done most of the work organizing it. So I want to make sure it runs smoothly.’

‘I thought everything was meant to be sorted.’

‘There were a couple of last-minute hitches: they had to be cleared up. It all happens in two days, you know.’

‘I know. Becky keeps reminding me.’

‘She’s looking forward to it, Rob – that’s why. She understands that I have to work on it. Why can’t you?’

‘I’ll be pleased when the whole fucking thing is over. Perhaps we can get back to normal.’

‘What the hell is normal around here any more? Our relationship?’

She slumped down in the chair opposite him.

‘After what we’ve been through, Rob, I’m not sure I’d know normal again if I fell over it,’ she said wearily.

He regarded her silently.

‘How do you feel?’ she asked finally.

‘I took a couple of painkillers earlier, so I’m OK. I was more concerned about you, and where you were.’

She was aware of his gaze trailing over her.

‘You’re wearing a different blouse,’ he said. ‘That’s not the one you had on when you left this afternoon.’

‘I spilt some coffee on the other one.’

‘Whose coffee?’

‘You think I’ve been with Walker, don’t you?’ she said irritably.

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘You didn’t have to. Christ, Rob, when are you going to believe me? Nothing happened between us and, like I’ve said to you before, you’re in no position to start lecturing me about adultery, are you? I mean, you wrote the fucking book.’

She got to her feet.

‘I’m going to bed,’ Hailey told him. ‘Are you coming?’

‘In a bit,’ he said, gazing at the television.

‘We can’t go on like this, Rob,’ she said, pausing at the door.

He didn’t look round.

‘No,’ Rob replied. ‘We can’t.’

She stood there a moment longer, then gently closed the door – leaving him alone in the room.

97

SHE HADN’T SLEPT well the night before.

Hailey yawned, and studied her reflection in the mirror – noting that the image staring back at her had dark rings beneath the eyes.

Dressed in just bra and panties, she carefully put on her make-up, occasionally glancing across at the bed.

She had no idea what time Rob had come up the previous night. One o’clock? Later? He’d slipped into bed beside her, and soon she had heard his low breathing.

She’d thought about rolling across to lie nearer to him but, when he turned onto his side and showed her his back, she’d decided against it.

He’d left the house about half an hour ago. Despite her protestations, he’d announced that he would first take Becky to school, then later that morning he was going back to work. He needed, he’d told her, to get out of the house.