Chapter 18

I screamed and shouted to be let out until my voice became hoarse. I beat on the door with my fists until I could no longer raise my arms. It was clear nobody was going to respond. I sank to the floor and cried.

When I could cry no longer, I looked around the room to see if I could find any weaknesses in my prison. There were no windows. There was a simple cot bed securely fixed to a wall and the floor, with enough room for me to crawl underneath. In one of the top corners of the room was a CCTV camera protected by a stout metal grille. There was a primitive toilet and some toilet paper, a washbasin with hot and cold taps and a flimsy plastic beaker which I assumed was for drinking water. No toothbrush, no towels and no soap.

This had to be Alex Ferguson’s dad’s doing, although I didn’t know how he could have influenced my dad to send me here. I was still alive, so they probably weren’t going to go as far as killing me. Dad said he would pay a visit in a few days. Surely all I had to do was tell him how I’d been treated and he’d take me home. Now that I had a strategy of sorts, I felt a bit more positive. There was nothing to occupy my time in the room so boredom was going to be a problem.

Suddenly a slot opened at the bottom of the door and a tray was slid into the room.

“Hey!” I shouted out, but the slot had already been shut.

It seemed I’d just been served lunch, an unappealing-looking sandwich on a paper plate. I couldn’t see any reason to go on hunger strike so I sat on the bed with the tray resting on my knees and reluctantly sampled the sandwich. To my surprise, it tasted better than it looked and I actually finished it. There was nothing else besides the sandwich however.

Not long after I finished eating, the slot at the bottom of the door opened. “Tray,” someone barked.

“Let me out, I want to go home,” I called back.

“Tray,” the voice barked again.

I ignored it.

The door unlocked and an orderly walked in. Hard-looking and shaven-headed like his colleague. He walked straight over and punched me in the stomach, leaving me bent double and gasping for air.

“When I say tray, you give tray,” he said, again in an East European accent. “When you make me come in, it bad for you.” He picked up the tray and left, locking the door behind him.

I’m not sure how I managed to get through the rest of the day, but eventually the slot at the bottom of the door opened again and the tray pushed through. This was obviously dinner, again on a paper plate but this time it was accompanied by bendy plastic cutlery. Again it tasted better than it looked and I actually cleaned the plate. There was no dessert however; I guessed five-a-day was out of the question.

The door slot opened. “Tray!”

Although the knife was so bendy as to be useless, I decided to keep it. The rest I slid back through the slot.

“Knife,” the voice insisted.

Not wanting another punch to the stomach, I reluctantly conceded my prize.

I assumed that was it for the day, but I was wrong. Some time later the door opened and an orderly came in.

“Pour water,” he ordered.

I refreshed the water in the plastic beaker.

The orderly held out an evil looking red and orange capsule. “You take,” he ordered.

“What is it?” I asked.

“No questions. You take.”

“No.”

I thought the orderly was going to punch my stomach again, but instead he pulled my head back, forced my mouth open, put the capsule in then poured water in until I had to swallow or choke. By the time I’d finished coughing and spluttering, the orderly had left the room and locked the door.

Soon after, the light was dimmed. I took that to mean bedtime. I crawled onto the lumpy cot bed and tried to get to sleep. It was a long time coming.

I was woken by the light being turned up again. Everything was fuzzy and I felt more tired than I ever had in my life. All I wanted to do was lie there. I heard the slot open. I forced myself to get out of bed and staggered over to the door. I couldn’t be bothered to carry the breakfast tray back to my bed so I knelt down and picked at the food. The taste made my stomach churn, so I crawled over to the sink, drank some water then crawled back into bed.

When the slot opened again, the orderly must have seen the tray was where he had left it so didn’t need to bark out the order.