UNSCATHED

Chapter 2

THEY developed a rapport, Tasha and Pique – she still called him that – away from the Unit Leader's prying eyes, but those that saw the way she was after seeing or talking to him -– for even a blind man would have noticed –- knew it was good, even though it was likely to be one-sided.

It usually was in her case, but she was so happy to be near him –- to be near anyone that made any sense at all –- it was of no consequence. Tasha's shining eyes said it all. When they could, they stood, or sat, in each other's shadow. He told her he was sorry. She forgave him.

Pique never wanted to go anywhere with the other inmates. If she was completely honest, unless concerts were offered neither did she; they had nothing in common with each other at all. Since she had no job, she needed common ground with people; and with him she seemed to have it.

Once he played a series of songs at such mind-bending volume it seemed to vibrate through her very being.

One of the songs he played was about a lonely and confused man wondering where his spouse went at night; the man's need for his spouse was so strong that he shrieked it from his ruined throat.

Tasha's eyes went wide and shone. The song was a favourite; and it clouded her thoughts, making her entire body tingle in response to the slithering and sliding notes, scything through the pain she was plagued by.

"Thank you," she whispered to him, knowing he was unlikely to hear her but that she would never forget it.

She began to enjoy Warehouse life a bit more.

Pique frequently popped his head in her door to see how she was. She recognised the sound of his foot dragging on the floor as he staggered past, and she worried he'd fall over or that it hurt him. He didn't understand how she coped living there and informed her what he would do if he'd been her, which didn't sound pleasant; she could see he was able to do most things for himself and was sometimes sad that she could not.

He asked her what happened when he played his songs and she covered her face

     He showed her a film of a woman who seemed upset about her looks and life. The woman was supposed to be plain, but Tasha thought she was quite pretty and didn't understand why everyone was saying nasty things to her when she walked down the street.

"This is you, Tasha," he said. He was stood behind her, watching; his hands were on her shoulders, taking all the tightness away. She wanted to close her eyes, to lean into him, but he was quite keen on her watching.

     The woman on the screen was back at home; she appeared to be eating the entire contents of her fridge in one go.

    "This is what you do," Pique continued.

Then the woman on the screen picked up a knife. Since she'd eaten already the knife was not to cut up her food; she screamed in pain.

"I'll do that for you," Pique whispered, "you'd be too shaky."

      Tasha had enjoyed the rest of what she had seen, if you could enjoy that type of thing, but not this; she tried to scream, to shout for Staff; to shout for him to leave her room but no sound came out. It would be better, she thought, if Pique had not only left her room, but the Warehouse, and her life.

     Pique's body seemed to drop to the floor. She pressed her pendant to ring staff. It hung around her neck, and all who lived at the Warehouse wore one, unless they could get by without one; few could. He refused to have one. Hers beeped frantically as she screamed for help.