‘You okay, mate?’ I ask, not sure what kind of reaction (if any) I’m going to get. His eyes slowly lift towards me, then droop shut. I shake his shoulder and he looks up again before trying to move. I help him up, doing my best not to overreact at the godawful stench. He’s been lying in a pool of his own waste for days. It takes him several minutes to sit up straight. The light from a small, square window illuminates his weary, hollowed face. I recognise him. He’s is the fourth person in the picture on the bedroom wall.
‘You killed them...?’ he starts to ask, but he doesn’t have the energy to finish his question. He slumps to one side and drifts back into unconsciousness.
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It’s taken almost two hours for the kid to come around fully. I managed to undo his chains and move him into the l
