19. Mireille

Along with everyone else, I drag my mattress into the Black Space. Once more, the huge bodyguard and Sven are humping the speaker system into place, setting up the generator. I help Brody and Sven with hanging the black curtains that help to dull out the final shades of vision.

I keep my head down. There are no further clashes with Quinn, thankfully. Not that the silly woman realises I’m trying to save her neck. If the wrong person hears her calling me a whore again I don’t know what might happen.

I stare at the note every night. Angel. I'm nobody's angel.

Her face is a permanently macabre landscape of bubbling ridges, forming a permanently foul smile. She stands with Raze, her braids hanging low to try and disguise her scars as he talks through a checklist. Climbing the ladder, all I can feel is his eyes on my hips.

I thought it was his eyes anyway. I turn around quickly and see nobody looking. Paranoia kicking in, perhaps. Full moon edginess. Except when I turn around, there it is