I closed my eyes and listened through the pain to the roar of the Commodore’s engine as my brother and his mates speed away into the night. Part of me still wanted to warn her somehow. The same part of me that still wanted to believe that she was still the sweet, caring Becky I knew. That wanted to forget the disgust on her face as I lay in the dirt covered in blood and spit. That wished I’d never met her . . .
***
It was never meant to turn out like this. She was perfect. We met online, but it didn’t take long ‘til we were real close; at that time in my life I felt like she was the only person who’d really listen to me. I could tell her anything, stuff I couldn’t even talk to my best mates about and she’d understand. She said I “had depth”. Said she loved how I was strong and sensitive at the same time. Said she thought country boys were hot. And she sent me pictures. Oh god, the pictures that girl sent . . . ! Seriously, how could any guy resist that? She was perfect.
And then she came to visit one day. I was so nervous I turned up two hours early at the depot in case her coach got in early. It didn’t, but it didn’t matter: ~~BeC20~~ was even more amazing in the flesh as Becky. She was unbelievable. We held hands and I took her out to the one Chinese restaurant in town and she played with my legs under the table all through the meal. Later that night back in my room, her nails running down my back, she whispered: “Hey, I have a really wild idea. You wanna video tape it this time? Being on film really turns me on . . .”
It wasn’t until the next weekend when she was coming to visit again that I found out that Becky wasn’t 20 year-old Becky, but a girl named Kyra. It wasn’t until a whole week later, when I told her my parents were going on holiday and we’d be alone that I found out she had a boyfriend and that they had constructed “Becky” as bait. It wasn’t until after I’d cleaned the house and spent all day trying to work out how to cook a roast that I found out they had the video. That they knew I had the photos. That they knew she was only 16. And if I didn’t have $1,000 to give them within a week, the police would know too.
How was I meant to explain to my parents where the Playstation had gone? Or my iPod? Or how $500 went missing from Mum’s account . . .
That Friday night I waited at the empty block behind the Kenworth yard, kicking at the clumps of dried weeds in the red dust as I watched the main road from behind the shadows of shiny new truck cabs for sale. I had $1,000 in my pocket and a whole lot of fear to go with it. Bring the money and everything would be cool, they said - as the two cars screeched to a halt in front of me and eight guys with cricket bats and crowbars got out, I knew nothing was cool at all. They wanted another $5,000, and they didn’t like it when I told them no way.
When I came to, I could see eight pairs of shoes in the distance and one pair of high heels walking through the dirt towards me. Crouching down, Becky – Kyra – watched me for a moment: her face was blurry, but I could see her studying me as I started lose consciousness again. The last thing I remember is the look of disgust before she spat in my face and strode off, the sound of screeching tyres following soon after.
***
It was my brother who found me. Took me back to his place, cleaned me up. Said I better tell him what was going on or he’d do the same to me again. Said no one was going to treat his little bro like that. “You know where they live?” he asked me as we sat in his shed, him mopping my face with a cotton bud. The bowl of hot water had long since turned a shade of watery-red and one of my teeth swished back and forth at the bottom.
“Not sure exactly. Maybe St. Albans. Somewhere on the west side of the city, anyway.” One of my eyes had fused shut and I couldn’t feel half my face but my head and body ached all over. I just wanted to lie down and for all this to go away.
“No matter. I’ll find them,” he said absently as he brought a glass of water to my lips. But I could barely hear him over the roaring in my ears, and I felt my body pitch below me as the world turned dark again.
This time, I woke lying on the sofa bed in my brother’s living room. Outside I could hear voices and car doors slamming. “You know where we’re going?” I heard my brother say. “Good. Right, let's roll, boys, and remember: the gun's just for show . . . "