You Want Answers?

A monologue. Not my usual style at all. Just a random piece, out of nowhere. Write it down, see how it goes. A crap system, yet it’s all I know.

‘You have no idea, do you? No idea at all what I can see. What I feel. Every hour. Every day. What’s the point?

You want answers? I’ll give you answers, but they won’t be the answers you want. That’s because you’re not asking the right questions, see?

Not for me to say what you should be asking, is it? You’re the ones wearing the uniform. Not me. One word out of you and that’s me done. Sitting tight, trap shut, wanting a lawyer, right? Got it? Just a nod. That’ll do.

Ironic, really. They tell me everything. They always do. That touching belief that if you tell someone what they want to know, they’ll let you go. Imagine that? Yet they all do it.

How fucking naïve is that? I want answers. ‘Course I do and I get them. One way or another they always talk to me. Easy way, hard way, all the same.

After, they think I’ll just go away. Let them go. They all think that. When I’ve got no more use for them, I’ll just walk away. Let them live. Every fucking time it gets me. How trusting they are.

Some get it easy. Others not so much. That’s only right. That lad you’re on about. I took my time with him. Lippy bastard. Held out for a while, trying it on. Telling me he didn’t know anything about my gear. Two keys of coke go missing and he’s the last person to be seen with it? Not on to say you don’t know what happened. Bloody cheeky, right? I thought so.

He was a good liar; I’ll give him that.  I cut him, kept on cutting him and he still kept saying he’d no idea what I wanted from him. Got blood on my shirt too. I hate that. Made me angry and that’s not me. Not me at all. I don’t get angry. Not when I’m working.

He talked, in the end. Half fucking dead by then, but he talked. They all do. Begged me to finish it. Finish him off. Too late though. Made me angry, got blood on my shirt, in no mood to listen, was I? You can see that? Understand it, right? He needed a fucking lesson, him. Oh, he got one, right enough. Took a while. Three hours, at least. Your lads, when they came steaming in, got a bit of a shock, eh? Not had time to clean up, see? I always clean up after. Tidy. Like a new pin, usually, but didn’t get the chance this time. Don’t think I leave the place like that as a rule though. Not my style.

You’ll want to know about the others, you said. Well, maybe I’ll tell you and maybe I won’t. I’ll think about it. See how we get along. Important, getting along. Good manners too. I’m big on good manners. Always brought up to watch my manners. And be tidy. Yeah. That’s important.

You know what? I think I’ll wait for a lawyer to turn up anyway. You can switch that tape off now. I’m saying no more. Okay? Cup of tea would be nice. While we’re waiting. Any chance? Two sugars.’