Chapter 4 - Chapter 3

# Chapter 3
AYANDA

A thick and heavy silence descends on the room. Vusi's words hang in the air. The warder's sharp cough shatters it briefly, before it creeps back in to wrap around my heart like thick tendrils of ivy. I try to picture the man in front of me as a four-year-old boy, locked in the bathroom, naked and cold, with bleeding knees and tears streaming down his face.

A quick glance at the recorder on the table confirms it's still recording. I keep my eyes on it as I whisper, "When did your ma first start hurting you?"

Though he agreed to interviews, asking about his childhood still feels strangely intrusive.

Vusi doesn't reply until I lift my gaze. And with his dark eyes pinned on me, he rubs his wrists as if he can still feel the phantom touch of his shackles. "My earliest memories involve my ma humiliating me in some form by installing padlocks on the cupboards to stop me from rummaging for food, or refusing to change my nappies for days. She was inventive with her punishments."

"No one knew?"

"No one cared."

I frown, but Vusi speaks before I can open my mouth to respond. "I grew up in a caravan park. My ma was addicted to prescription pills, and my father was an alcoholic who struggled to hold down a job. Their situation was by no means out of the norm. Everyone in that caravan park lived equally miserable lives."

Sweeping my eyes over his face, noting the crow's feet around his eyes and his greying temples, I chew my lip in thought. "And your father? He was rarely home, right?"

"He tried at first, but he was gone by the time I became a teenager."