Trainspotting - Irvine Welsh [105]
— You’re a good guy Davie. Pity we didnae meet in different circumstances, he wheezed, repeating that well-worn phrase he used on all my visits. I tightened my grasp on his hand. He looked at me uncomprehendingly. Good. The bastard could still feel physical pain. It wasn’t going to be that kind of pain which would hurt him, but it was a nice extra. I spoke in clear, measured tones.
— I told you I got infected through shooting up, Al. Well, I lied. I lied tae ye aboot tons ay things.
— What’s aw this, Davie?
— Just listen for a minute, Al. Ah got infected through this bird ah’d been seein. She didnae ken thit she wis HIV. She goat infected by a piece ay shite that she met one night in a pub. She was a bit pished and a bit naive, this wee bird. Ken? This cunt sais that he had a wee bit ay dope back at his gaff. So she went wi the cunt. Back tae his flat. The bastard raped her. Ye ken whit he did, Al?
— Davie . . . whit is this . . .
— Ah’ll fuckin tell ye. Threatened her wi a fuckin blade. Tied her doon. Fucked her fanny, fucked her arse, made her go doon oan him. The lassie wis terrified, as well as being hurt. Does this sound familiar then cunt?
— Ah dinnae . . . ah dinnae ken whit the fuck yir oan aboot Davie . . .
— Di-nnae fah-kin start. You remember Donna. You remember the Southern Bar.
— Ah wis fucked up man . . . — you remember whit you sais . . .
— That wis lies. Bullshit. Ah couldnae huv goat a fuckin root oan if ah knew ah hud that shite in ma come. Ah couldnae huv raised a fuckin smile.
— Wee Goagsie . . . mind ay him?
— Shut yir fuckin mooth. Wee Goagsie took his fuckin chance. You sat thair like it wis a fuckin pantomime whin you hud yours, I rasped, watching drops of my gob disseminate into the film of sweat which covered his shrunken coupon. I composed myself, continuing my story.
— The lassie went through a heavy time. She was strong-willed though. It would huv fucked up a lot ay women, but Donna tried tae shrug it off. Why let one spunk-gobbed cunt ruin your life? Easier said than done, but she did it. What she didnae ken wis thit the scumbag in question wis HIV positive. Then she meets this other guy. They hit it off. He likes her, but he kens that she’s goat problems wi men and sex. Nae fuckin wonder, eh? I wanted to strangle the perverse force which passed for life out of the cunt’s body. Not yet, I told myself. Not yet, you doss fucker. I drew a heavy breath, and continued my tale, reliving the horror of it.
— They worked it oot, this lassie and the other guy. Things were barry for a bit. Then she discovered that the rapist fuckbag was HIV. Then she discovered that she was. But what was worse for this person, a real person, a fuckin moral person, was when she found out that her new felly was. All because of you, the rapist cunt. Ah wis the new felly. Me. Big fuckin sap here, I pointed to myself.
— Davie . . . ah’m sorry man . . . — whit kin ah say? Yiv been a good mate . . . it’s that disease . . . it’s a fuckin horrible disease, Davie. It kills the innocent, Davie . . . it kills the innocent . . .
— It’s too late fir that shite now. Ye hud yir chance at the time. Like Wee Goagsie.
He laughed in my face. It was a deep, wheezing sound.
— So what are ye . . . what are ye gaunnae dae aboot it? . . . Kill me? Go ahead . . . ye’d be daein us a favour . . . ah dinnae gie a fuck. His wizened death mask seemed to become animated, to fill with a strange, ugly energy. This was not a human being. Obviously, it suited me to believe that, made it easier to do what I had to do, but in cold light of day I believe it still. It was time to play my cards. I calmly produced the photographs from my inside pocket.
— It’s not so much what ah’m gaunnae dae aboot it, mair what ah already have done aboot it, I smiled, drinking the expression of perplexed fear which etched onto his face.
— Whit’s this . . . whit dae ye mean?