Criminal
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Criminal Record
Part One
I had never been into a police station before and I didn't like it. It
wasn't the kind of place a girl like me frequented.
There was a glass-fronted kiosk right in front of me and two benches on
either side. The foyer was small - about half the size of my parents'
kitchen at home. Notice boards above each bench brimmed with warnings
about drunk driving and pleas for charity volunteers, among other
things. I was interested in doing some more volunteer work and decided
to take a look at some of them before I left.
I rang the buzzer for attention and waited patiently.
On the right-hand bench was a girl who looked about eighteen, the same
as me, fiddling with a mobile phone. That was where the similarity
ended though. She was a brunette to my blond and though she wasn't
ugly, I didn't like her look one bit. I had a fringe and nape-length
straight hair. Hers was full and shoulder length, swept back off her
forehead. She was wearing a boob tube and a short skirt that I wouldn't
have been seen dead in. I wasn't prudish but my pedal pushers, top and
pink cardigan did look a lot more conservative than what she had on.
And less slutty.
There was a smouldering cigarette butt hanging from her lower lip. I
focussed on the No Smoking sign just behind her head and tutted to
myself.
"Excuse me," I said, "I'm sorry to bother you."
The girl looked up at me, her mouth dropping open vacantly. "Wha?"
"It's no smoking in here. There's a sign just behind you." I pointed
helpfully.
"What you say?"
"Behind you. There's a sign. It's no smoking."
"D'you work 'ere?"
"No I don't."
She turned back to her phone. "Well mind yer own soddin' business
then." She puffed and a cloud of smoke obscured her face.
I tutted to myself and returned my attention to the kiosk.
A lady in a suit came into view with a guarded expression. I wasn't
surprised it was guarded if she had to deal with that sort of person
all day, but she seemed to relax when she saw the way I was dressed. I
obviously wasn't a criminal or a drunk.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes thank you. I'm here to report my handbag being stolen."
"Right. I'll have someone talk to you about it. Would you mind holding
on for a minute?"
"No. That's fine. Shall I sit out here?"
"Yes please. Can I have your name?"
"Holly," I said, "Holly Thorpe."
She wrote it down and I took a seat. Before the receptionist
disappeared again the girl opposite got up and shouted "When they gonna
see me then?"
The receptionist's guarded expression returned. "It shouldn't be long
now."
"What about my mate? He's still in there."
"You'll have to wait and see."
The girl slumped back onto her bench. "Right. Ta. Thanks a fuckin'
bunch."
The receptionist withdrew.
"What a stuck up bitch."
I forced a smile and raised my eyebrows. I wasn't interested in
starting a conversation with her but I didn't want to antagonise her
either. She was obviously in here because she'd done something wrong.
There was nothing else to do while I waited and I started to get bored.
The girl went back to studying her phone and I found myself stealing
glances at her. She was dressed for nightclubbing. I hated to think
those clothes were her normal attire. Her vampish make-up and her
harlot-red lips and nails accentuated the look. She didn't care about
modesty either. God knows she was showing enough flesh: her arms and
shoulders, her cleavage, her midriff, her legs - but she sat with her
legs apart, not caring what anybody might see!
I found myself pitying her if anything. She obviously had a horrible
upbringing - probably coming from a broken home, unlike me. Her voice
was loud and brash and totally unrefined. Her manner was lewd and
sexual but at the same time, overly casual. She was so absorbed by her
mobile that her eyes looked dim and her mouth was hanging open. I
wasn't perfect myself, but I always tried to present a good image at
all times. It was a shame nobody had taught her to do the same.
I couldn't help looking down on her a bit though. However bad her
upbringing and environment, she was a human being able to make choices.
If she chose to commit crimes then she deserved whatever she got. If
she chose to dress like that then she risked provoking dirty men to do
things to her against her will.
I just thanked God that I had a good family and a stable home.
We had a large house in the huge nice side of town, set into a
beautiful garden. I had a lot of good friends and a very nice boyfriend
a year older than me and I was at the top of my classes at college
coming up to my A Levels. I had a guaranteed place at University and
what looked like a very glittering future.
It was a shame this silly girl had thrown her future away. But she made
her choices so it was her fault.
Just to look at her: There was a tattoo on her left shoulder of
something I couldn't make out and a rose on her belly. She hadn't even
treated her body with respect. And that was not to even mention the
smoking and whatever else she might have got involved with.
I shook my head in disgust.
And at that moment she looked up and met my gaze. "What you lookin'
at?"
"Nothing. Sorry." I flushed, turning away.
"You lookin' at me?"
I ignored her and didn't make eye contact.
"Hello! Little miss goody-two-shoes! I'm talkin' to you!"
"I'm sorry," I said, "I just glanced at you. I didn't mean anything by
it."
The buzzer was only a few feet away. I considered pushing it. Surely
she wouldn't do anything in the police station when she was already in
trouble.
"You and yer fuckin' pink cardy!" she sneered, "Lookin' down on people
cus they don't 'ave money like you do. You should be fuckin' ashamed of
yerself!"
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking that honestly." My heart was thudding. I
was terrified. I wished I hadn't come here now. I didn't like mixing
with her sort of people.
"Liar." She lifted her phone back up into view then had a second
thought and lowered it. "You don't know what it's like."
And I don't want to, I thought to myself, but I didn't say anything out
loud and I kept my eyes away from her.
Thankfully, she did the same.
Five or ten more minutes passed. It was very dull and although I'd
planned to look at the volunteer work posters, I didn't want to draw
attention to myself. The girl seemed to have nodded off and the last
thing I wanted was to wake her up and make her angry with me.
It was very warm in the foyer. The overhead heaters were blowing and I
started to feel sleepy myself. I tried my best to stay awake but I
couldn't help it.
First my eyes closed for a moment, then they closed again and this time
they stayed closed as I drifted into a pleasant comfortable snooze.
A man's voice woke me but it didn't shake me enough to open my eyes.
"Sadie Wilson. It's time to go. Get up."
He was talking to the girl opposite me so I ignored him.
"Did you hear me? I said get up!"
I smiled to myself. She was going to get her just desserts now.
"Wipe that smirk off your face and sit up Sadie! Wake up now or I'll
drag you through by your hair! I've already had enough of your smart
mouth to last me all night. "
I opened my eyes, not wanting to miss this and I was startled to see
that the bench opposite was empty. The girl was gone. A policeman in a
white shirt, sleeves rolled up, was standing in the doorway. I looked
left and right, trying to see where she'd gone.
But she wasn't anywhere to be seen.
I looked questioningly at the police officer and was startled to see he
was glaring straight at me. He looked very angry - angrier than I'd
ever seen a man look at me. "Get your ass off that bench and come with
me!"
He meant me! He'd mistaken me for somebody else - for that girl!
"Sorry mate, but you can fuckin'--" I stopped in mid-sentence. My hand
flew to my mouth. That voice hadn't been mine. I hadn't even meant to
say that. I was going to say "Sorry officer. I think you have me
mistaken for somebody else."
"Get up," he said, stepping forward. He grabbed my arm, pulling me onto
my feet.
I almost fell over immediately. My ankle twisted.
I was wearing stiletto heels suddenly! And more than that - my legs
were bare, right up to the short skirt wrapped round my hips!
What on earth was happening!
"Get off me yer fuckin' bastard!" I snarled, and gasped at the filth
that was coming from my lips.
The policeman grabbed my other wrist, pulling me forward off-balance.
Long brown hair swung into my view.
"It's time to process you Sadie," he said, Let's go!"
"Sadie? What's goin' on? I'm not-"
"Not guilty? No, you never are, are you? Tell it to the judge Sadie
'cause nobody here believes a word you say."
He dragged me toward the door, his grip on my wrists digging into the
skin.
This was wrong! Very very wrong!
He thought I was that girl - that trashy badly spoken tramp - and Lord
help me, he was right!
Somehow, impossibly, I'd become her!
***
And the next thing I knew I was in a cell.
The door slammed behind me. The lock engaged.
But I didn't move. I couldn't. Two, maybe three feet into the cell, I
stood, staring at nothing in front of me, my arms rigid by my sides. I
didn't see what else was in there. I don't think more than a single
thought sparked across the span of my mind. And that single thought was
a dazzling white light of panic and shock. Its brightness wiped out any
possibility of another thought coming to the fore.
If I had sat down that morning and made a list of words that qualified
who I was and how others saw me...
Demure. Pretty. Well dressed. Charming. Studious.
And if I made that list now...
Tramp. Slag. Vixen. Slut. Loser.
Nothing made sense. What had happened was so utterly beyond
expectation. It didn't fit.
It didn't fit into my brain.
I jerked forward a step, even that most simple motion sending back to
my consciousness messages I shouldn't have been receiving.
I was wearing high heels. Really high high heels. Stilettos.
I never wore them. Except for a brief go I'd had at a birthday party
when I was thirteen, I'd never even tried them.
My breasts bulged out further than I was used to. I had to bend forward
to see my legs. My arms and shoulders were bare. My nails were painted
dark red. Long brown hair hung about my shoulders.
This wasn't me. I had become another person. I'd changed places somehow
with that horrible girl from the foyer and they'd thrown me in a cell
when all I came in to do was report a stolen handbag.
They had dragged me into an antechamber in the forbidden area beyond
the locked doors and searched me. They were rude and abusive. They
treated me as though I was some kind of criminal. I couldn't keep track
of everything they said. I didn't understand what they meant. If they
told me why I was being arrested it didn't seep through to my conscious
mind.
They sat me down with a number in front of me and a camera. Then they
took my picture. Except it wasn't my picture. It was HER picture. They
made me turn my head. Except it wasn't my head. It was HERS.
And then they took my fingerprints, making me foul the ends of my
fingers with black ink and imprint it onto a form.
Now, in the cell, I stared down at those dirty fingers.
They weren't mine. This wasn't me. None of this was happening to me. It
was happening to her.
Except that I was her now.
Did I even remember her name?
Sadie.
Sadie something. Wilson maybe?
Was that... my name now?
How could I possibly get back. I didn't even know how I'd changed in
the first place. Had the real Sadie Wilson walked out of there in my
body?
I didn't know. I didn't know anything. Couldn't get my thoughts
straight. Didn't...
Didn't know what was happening to me.
***
Half an hour later I was still there, locked in that cell and something
came to me - an ugly thought that brought a huge cramp to my stomach
with it.
This WAS real.
However insane it seemed - however inconceivable. It was real and I had
to somehow... I had to deal with it.
I didn't know how that was possible. But that was all I could do. It
wasn't going to end immediately. No magic wand was going to fix things.
Even if it did, I was stuck here until that happened and I had to think
about what I was going to do. I had to stop closing myself off and
examine who I was now.
I raised my arms in front of me, palms up, then twisted them to look at
the backs of my hands. I touched the skin of first one forearm, then
the other. Squeezing. Probing. I touched my thighs; my knees. I raised
one leg, looking at the smoothness of it, the shiny skin visible in a
triangle above the rim of my high-heeled shoe. I smelled the back of my
left hand, the wrist of my right. There were traces of a cheap perfume
that wrinkled my nose for me but I could also smell my skin. It smelt
different than I was used to. I pulled locks of my new brown hair into
view. I pressed my fingers into it.
Then I twisted my arm and neck so that I could see the tattoo on my
left shoulder. It was a gaudy, miscoloured heart with a ribbon
underneath it that said "Mik Forever." Except forever was spelt with a
4 so that it said "Mik 4ever." My mouth curled into a sneer. It was so
gaudy and lower class.
My shoulders slumped. What was I going to do?
How could this happen to me?
"This is a fuckin' nightmare."
My hand flew to my mouth again. That had just come out. I hadn't meant
it to. I didn't swear. I never had. When I was about six an uncle came
to stay with us. He used profanity every third word and I had made a
solemn little girl promise to never end up like him. It had become a
little obsession of mine and I though I knew I took it to extremes, I
would never have given it up.
Now, filth was spewing out every time I opened my mouth.
I put my head in my hands.
"Shit me."
In some ways, the change in pitch of my voice was the most disturbing
element of the switch. My old voice had been light and feminine. This
new one was lower and louder. There was an underlying gravel. Although
it was still very womanly - it was by no means masculine, the complete
lack of refinement made my ears hurt.
"What am I gonna do? I'm stuck in 'ere and that fuckin' toerag's out
there in my body."
I had been wrong too in my first estimation of what had happened. It
wasn't that I tried to say one thing and another thing came out. It was
that this new, gutter language just came naturally to mind and it
wasn't until it came out that I realised what I was saying.
It wasn't enough that my body had been corrupted. My mind was tainted
too!
"This is un-fuckin'-believable!"
I dropped my head close to my lap and wrapped my arms about it.
Then there was the sound of a key in a lock and the door opened. I
didn't want to look up. I didn't want to be affected by anymore of
this.
The door slammed closed. Somebody cleared his throat.
A man stood just inside the cell. He was wearing a suit. His hair was
short and immaculate, his skin tanned.
His expression was amiable but I could tell from his eyes that there
was an underlying mistrust and distaste for his surroundings. "Hello
Sadie," he said, setting down his briefcase and sitting beside me on
the bed. "I'm the duty solicitor. Shall we have a chat? They're going
to want to talk to you in a minute."
I hid my face again, not wanting to have to deal with any of this.
"Leave me alone."
"I think it might be best for you if we talked Sadie. You could be in a
lot of trouble because of what your boyfriend did. I might be able to
help you."
I peeped at him. What would this handsome man say if I told him I
wasn't who I looked like? That I didn't do anything wrong?
He tried another smile on but again, all it did was look fake. He
obviously didn't like me and didn't want to be here.
There was no way this guy would believe anything like that.
"Help me," I whispered.
"All right." This time his smile did seem genuine. He opened his
briefcase and took out some papers. "Your boyfriend is being charged
with grievous bodily harm. Despite what you apparently said on the way
in here and your attack on the man in question, I think you may be able
to walk out of here tonight."
"Thank fuck for that."
"But... there is a question of the... cannabis they found in your
possession. All of this adds up."
I shook my head. Who was this person I had become? How was I ever going
to get back to being me?
"I think the best thing you can do when you're giving your statement is
to own up to what you did and to tell the truth."
"I didn't do nothin'!"
The solicitor sighed and his jaw clenched. "I'm not going to beat
around the bush here Sadie. You're going to be in a lot worse trouble
if you start trying to deny everything - if you keep being rude to the
police. All right? What you need to do is to calm down and start
admitting what you've done is wrong. It will work out better in the
long run. There are witnesses - reliable witnesses. If your account
contradicts theirs then you will come across as a liar.
"I'm not lyin' ya stupid git! I didn't do none of it!"
He stood up and turned away. There was fractured metal in his voice
when he spoke again. "I'm trying to help you Sadie."
"Don't call me that!" I couldn't stand it.
"Miss Wilson. I'm trying to help you. You're making that very hard."
"I don't want you help you stupid twat!"
I couldn't help myself. I was so angry and frustrated and this
hostility kept coming out of me.
The solicitor's expression closed. He'd had enough of me. He was going
to leave.
"Very well Miss Wilson. In that case, I'm afraid you're on your own."
He moved to the door and rapped on it to be released. When it opened,
he paused in the doorway. "Remember my advice. Own up to everything and
you won't be in as much trouble."
"Piss off you posh wanker," I snarled.
He left.
But what he said stayed with me.
They were going to get a statement off me very soon and he was probably
right. I should own up to whatever they thought I had done.
But how could I do that? How could I say I had done criminal things
that I hadn't? This wasn't me. I hadn't done those things. Admitting I
had done them was like admitting I was this horrible girl for real.
It was like saying I really was Sadie Wilson.
***
"State your full name."
I looked at the policeman across the table sullenly.
I didn't want to say it. Saying it made it true. But I didn't have any
other choice. It would be far worse for me if I didn't.
"My name is Sadie Wilson," I said.
They went through the preliminaries of taking my statement but I zoned
out. I couldn't focus on these proceedings. I just stared down at the
shiny skin of my bare arms, bleached in the overhead strip lighting. My
fingers curled up toward the ceiling, all strength gone from my hands.
I stared at the red nail varnish and ink-black fingertips.
This is me now, I thought to myself. I've become this girl. I'm trapped
and I have to own up to her crimes and say I did them or it will be far
worse. I might have to go to prison. But I was in a prison anyway -
trapped in this body. If they let me out of here there was nowhere I
could go. What could I possibly do?
The policeman cleared his throat, bouncing my mind back to where I was.
His face was closed off, something I had never faced before. Men had
always had kind open expressions with me. All my life I had done
everything I could to be sweet and open and kindness and care had
always been the response. I wasn't used to such hostility, and from a
policeman! I had so much respect for the job they did but now I was on
the receiving end I felt so hurt by it. It made me angry and it made me
hate him. I didn't want to but I couldn't help it. I wanted to scratch
his eyes out.
"I want you to tell me in your own words what happened last night
Sadie," he said.
I shivered. The words of the duty solicitor emerged from the gloom in
my mind - that I should admit to everything - that it would get me off
quicker if I did, and that I shouldn't be rude. But I hadn't done
anything! How could I own up to something I hadn't done? The lawyer had
sketched in a few details but nothing really concrete.
"You better start talking Sadie. I'm getting sick of this. You're in
here all the time and maybe this time we'll chuck the book at you.
Think about that."
I glared up at him. Admit I had done something I hadn't or risk going
to prison?
"My... boyfriend got in a fight didn't he," I said, my voice distant
and sullen, the words coming out in the same blunt vulgar way they'd
been doing since this started.
"Go on."
"He got in a fight with this bald cunt and I hit him too... cause he
was goin' ta hurt my... boyfriend. You know." I was trying my best to
fill in the details but it was so hard to do it without fear of
contradicting something they knew to be true. I hadn't actually been
there. I didn't know anything.
I didn't say anymore and he started asking me questions. I did my best
to answer, skirting round, basing my answers on the clues he was giving
me.
It started to paint a picture and it was a gritty, tawdry thing, seen
only from odd angles. I... Sadie and her boyfriend had been out
clubbing the night before. Her boyfriend had got into a fight and she
had joined in. There had been a lot of violence and a lot of shouting.
She had spent the night in a cell, too drunk to give a statement and
now it was time to face up to it. And they had found marijuana in her
things.
In my things.
"Yeah," I said, "It's mine." The policeman looked at me sternly. "Look,
wha?" I snapped, "I'm sorry, all right? What do you want me to fucking
say? Jee-sus!"
He closed his notebook and sat watching me for a minute or two. I
glared down at the bare tabletop.
"Listen to me Sadie," he said in a kindly voice, "You've been in a lot
of trouble lately. Too much trouble."
"None of it was fuckin' me!"
He paused, trying hard to conceal his irritation. I knew I should shut
up but I couldn't help myself.
"I'm going to release you," he said, "but we'll be getting in touch
about this in a week or two. If the man you and your boyfriend
assaulted chooses to press charges then we'll have to see what
happens."
The centre of my chest took on a deep chill. Heaven forbid that I be
still trapped in this body and life then.
"You need to stay out of trouble from now on Sadie," he said, "Or it
could get very bad for you. Do you understand that?"
I nodded without looking at him. "Suppose."
"I give up," he said, the hostility returning. "Get out of here you
stupid slag."
He got up and led me to the door. "I don't want to see your face
anymore."
Before I could stop myself, I replied, "Piss off you ugly fuck."
***
He gave me the rest of Sadie's things then took me to reception. I
looked at the front door and the cold autumn world outside.
"Get out of here," said the policeman. I wrapped my arms round my
chest. "Go on!"
I pushed out. The cold air instantly froze my bare skin. I was still
only wearing the boob tube and mini-skirt and my long legs and
shoulders were utterly exposed. The wind lifted my hair and whipped it
harshly across my face.
I didn't want to be here. I wanted to be home. I couldn't bare this. It
wasn't right! This wasn't my life! I was rich - or my parents were.
Where was I going to go?
Shivering, I looked in the tiny handbag I'd been given. There was a bit
of cash loose, crumpled up and dirty, some make-up and a laminated ID
card. No car keys.
The card had a picture on it of the face I wore. It was the first time
I'd seen that face since I became her. Long dark hair, slicked back off
her face, dark red lips twisted in a vague sneer, dull, thick-witted
eyes, bare shoulders. I looked into the foggy glass of the front door
to the police station.
That same face looked back at me.
The most horrifying thing of all was that the open, pleasant expression
I had always had was gone. My lips now too seemed rude and sneering, My
eyes seemed dim.
I touched the glass and then touched my cheek. The transformation was
total.
On the ID it said Sadie Wilson and an address. My address now. That was
who I am. I kept coming back to that. I knew it wasn't true, that I
should fight against this and try to regain my life. I should denounce
the impostor in my place and go home, but there was something stopping
me.
Fear? Was I afraid they would reject me? That they would lock me up? I
didn't know.
Surely it wasn't...
No.
No, I rejected that completely.
That at some level I wanted to stay like this... To BE Sadie Wilson.
I shook my head. That wasn't true. It definitely wasn't true. I didn't
want to be this slutty tramp with nothing going for her. I wanted to be
a good student with a bright future and a big house, a handsome
husband.
There was a phone booth near the front doors. I marched myself over to
it and pulled open the door. Loose a the bottom my bag was some change.
I fished out a couple of twenty pence pieces and shoved them in the
slot. Then I dialled my home number. I needed to talk to my mum or dad
- get them to come and pick me up - explain to them what had happened
somehow.
It started to ring. Then there was a click and I heard a voice.
"Hello, Thorpe residence. Holly speaking."
I choked. I couldn't speak at all.
That was my name! My real name! And that was my real voice that was
talking!
The girl on the other end of the phone said, "Hello? Can I help you?"
I stuttered, trying to find words to say.
"I'm going to put the phone down if you don't say anything," she said.
She sounded exactly like me, sweet and innocent, well spoken and kind.
"Who the fuck are ya?" I snarled, "And how the fuck didja steal my
pissin' body?"
There was a pause. Then in a quieter, more guarded voice, the impostor
said, "Sadie? Is that you?"
"Don't you fuckin' call me that you bitch! You're Sadie! I've just been
locked up in a soddin' cell because a' what you did, you fuckin' tart!"
Another pause. Then in a measured louder voice, the girl on the other
end of the phone said, "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't
know you and I'll thank you not to call here again."
Then she put the phone down on me!
I was in a fury. I dug through my bag for more change. There was only
one more twenty. I stuffed it into the slot and bashed the number into
the keypad.
She answered more quickly this time. "Thorpe residence. Holly
speaking."
"Listen to me you bitch," I roared, "Don't you fuckin' put the phone
down on me! I'll kill ya! Give me my body back you-"
Click.
She put the phone down.
I charged out of the phone booth, seething.
She'd taken my life and now she wanted to keep it. How dare she? How
dare she steal what was mine?
But what was I going to do? Nobody would ever believe me that I was
really Holly - not to see me or worse, hear me speak. I cursed this
ugly gravelly voice of mine with it's coarse phrases and vulgarity.
Nobody was ever going to help me. I had nowhere to go.
Except to the address on the ID card in my bag.
A heavy gust of wind came. I drew my bare arms tight around my chest.
The address was in Barton, the scummy suburb at the other side of town.
It was at least an hour's walk from where I was, and in these heels...
What was I going to do?
Barton! I couldn't believe it! I couldn't live there. I just couldn't!
But I did now. I was Sadie Wilson. I was Sadie Wilson.
Nowhere to go but into her crappy life.
Then a car horn sounded and I screamed from fright.
A guttural belching roared and a rusty junk heap of a car screeched up
onto the curb in front of me. The driver reached over and opened the
passenger door. He was a skinhead wearing a tight heavy metal tee-shirt
over a muscular body. There were tattoos up his arms and he flashed a
gold tooth grin at me. There was a cigarette hanging from his mouth.
"Hey Sadie," he called, "Get in. I've been lookin' for ya!"
I had no idea who he was.
"Come on. I 'aven't got all day. Those bastards really pissed me off.
What were they like with you?"
The penny dropped. He was Sadie's boyfriend, the one who had attacked
the man the night before. He must have been just released too.
"They were right cunts," I said, cautious. I was wary about getting in
but the warm, if smelly interior did look inviting.
"Come on ya tart," he said, "I'm freezin' my bollocks off."
I looked back at the phone booth. I so wanted to go back to my real
home, but my options seemed so limited.
Was going with this man the only thing I could do?"
I hesitated.
Then I shrugged and started to climb in, strangely not worrying about
being demure in my actions or worrying I'd show too much leg.
"Thanks mate," I said, "You're right. I was freezin' me tits off. Let's
get the fuck out of here."
And just like that, I stepped into Sadie Wilson's life with no apparent
escape in sight.
Rowan
- 20.08.2022
- 14
- 0
