The Pirouette Predator

by Jade Wright

  “Someone sprayed 'The Pirouette Predator' over my car in graffiti. I don't know what to do!” he's shaking his head, eyes darting all around the room.

  I know what it feels like to be that paranoid. I wish I could tell him.

  “Luke, what happened after I left the parking lot?”

  “She blamed me for getting her in detention. Made a snarky comment and walked off. I told her she shouldn't be alone but she didn't want to be around me, either. Told me she'd spray me with the pepper-spray if I kept following her. I'd had enough so I let her be. She doesn't live far away from the school anyway, I thought she'd be fine!”

  More tears splash onto the tabletop. I can see the guilt.

  I think of the guilt I felt at leaving Chloe alone with Luke.

  I don't know what to believe.

  “You were kissing her before I got there,” I say.

  I'm not sure if it's a question or a statement.

  “I was trying to, yeah. She didn't want me. She was pushing me away. That's when you turned up.”

  “What would have happened if I hadn't turned up?” I swirl the wine around in my glass, scared to look at him.

  “I'm not a fucking rapist!” he yells.

  River grumbles uncomfortably from under the table.

  “I'm sorry!” my voice is placatory, my hands raised up.

  “I like girls. I like sex. I hate being tied down but I swear I would never intentionally hurt someone, especially a woman. You have to believe me, Pip!”

  “Then why the hell was my sisters journal in the drawer by your night-stand?!”

  The words tumble out of my mouth before I can catch them. I gasp in shock.

  Luke's eyes harden, his jaw clenches.

  I can hear his teeth grinding back and forth as he mulls things over in his head.

  “You went through my stuff. I knew it.”

  My hand reaches for the cricket bat but I knock it to the floor. It clatters noisily at our feet.

  He stands, towering over me. River's grumbles become snarls but she doesn't move.

  “I'm going to say this one more time,” his eyes are bulging wide. I can see blood vessels in the whites of his eyes.

  “I am not involved in this shit. I'm not going to fucking hurt you either!” he picks up the cricket bat and for a moment I think he's going to swing it right at my head.

  I wait for the blow, wait for the crack and the splintering of wood. It doesn't come. He doesn't hit me.

  Instead he places the bat into my trembling hands and lets me get a firm grip on the handle.

  “Give me your phone,” he demands, hand out.

  I'm too frightened to not cooperate so I give it to him.

  My lifeline.

  He asks me to unlock it with my fingerprint. I offer him my thumb and watch as the phone screen lights up.

  He punches in the emergency services number and hands the phone back to me.

  He sits back down.

  “Feel safer now?” he sounds sarcastic, like he can't quite believe I feel this way about him.

  “I'm going to tell you something and I need you to listen closely,” he says.

  I nod. There's nothing else I can do. I have the bat. I have the phone. I try to let these things comfort me but I'm still petrified.

  I don't know if this is a trick. River has reverted back to her unsure grumbles under the table.

  “Someone has been planting weird shit in my house. Girls underwear, your sisters journal. I don't know where they are coming from. Someone keeps sending me anonymous messages. I get these fucked up notes pinned under my windscreen wipers and nailed to my front door,” he produces his phone and hands it to me.

  There's a handful of messages dated before Chloe's disappearance.

  Don't worry, I'm getting rid of the Corps de Ballet. All for you.

  The first message read. I frown as I scroll on.

  You'll see the news tomorrow. Another one bites the dust. This one was a fighter! Can see why you liked her.

  They go on like this. Cryptic little text messages giving nothing much away.

  It's the last message that makes me feel off-balance.

  Leave Piper alone or she's next.

  Seeing my name on Luke's phone makes my pupils dilate. I wipe a sheen of sweat from my forehead, my pulse rapid. The message is a threat telling him to leave me alone.

  Someone knows about us.

  That's why he's been so distant.

  Everything is suddenly starting to make sense. The way he has been treating me – I wasn't imagining it. He was ignoring me because he was trying to protect me.

  “What the hell is this?” I'm breathless.

  I try to scroll on but there's nothing more.

  “I don't know. There's handwritten notes too. I don't have them on me but I've kept them all,” Luke says, taking his phone back.

  I grab the wine and drain the glass.

  “Why haven't you gone to the police?” I ask.

  “I thought it was a stupid prank at first. A mate, Steve probably, being an idiot,” he shrugs at me.

  “When I started getting the messages about some of the girls disappearing before anyone else knew about it, that's when I realised this was serious. But the notes nailed to my door are covered in blood. It kind of looks like they've been written in blood, really. They said stuff like, 'Go to the police and I'll gut you in your sleep.'” he looks ashamed.

  “You were too scared to come forward,” I say.

  I tell him I understand. I tell him about the note I had on the door of the shed where I found River.

  He's the first person I've told the whole truth to.

  It instantly lifts a weight from my shoulders to share it with someone. To speak the words out loud. Even to Luke.

  He shivers.

  “If someone can do that to a dog, I don't know what the fuck they could do to someone like me.” He's shaking his head like he can't quite believe it.

  “Or to all the missing girls,” I remind him.

  He pushes his thumb and forefinger into his eyes. It looks like he's in agony.

  “Can I have my sisters journal back?”

  “It's gone. I think. It's not where I found it. I'm so fucking paranoid someone's going to come into my house and find all this shit that I have nothing to do with. I feel like I'm being set up!” He's pulling at his hair, his voice wobbling.

  I have no idea if he's telling the truth or not. If he isn't, he's a damn good actor.

  “There's something else,” he says reluctantly.

  I swivel around to face him, the wine bottle in my hand. I was just about to top us both up.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  I can tell straight away that he doesn't want to tell me.

  I don't move.

  “The thing is...” he pauses, looks away from me. His rubs his hand vigorously through his hair and sighs.

  “All the girls that have been taken so far, your sister included... I've been with them all.”

  “As in, you've slept with them all?”

  He winces, nods.

  “At first I thought it was just coincidence! The real connection seemed to be that they were all dancers... but what if it's more to do with me? I know that sounds arrogant. I'm sorry, I'm over-thinking it,” he shakes his head, embarrassed.

  I chew on the inside of my cheek.

  “The police already suspect me. I can't have them finding out that I've been with literally every girl taken so far, but at the same time I think I need to go to them before this shit goes any further.”

  Panic explodes inside of me as he says this.

  “Luke, no! You cannot go to the police,” I grab his hands in mine.

  “Why?” his voice is a whisper.

  I think for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to keep his mouth shut.

  “If you go to them, you'll have to tell them about us. They'll find the message about me on your phone and ask you about it. Luke, that could get me in
serious trouble, don't you see that? I could end up in prison!”

  “I'll delete the message mentioning you.”

  “If the police seize your phone they can recover deleted messages Luke,” I say. Idiot.

  “But people could be dying!” he shouts back at me, tugging at his hair.

  “I know. I know that. I'm sorry. Just, lets think about this for a bit. OK?” I stare right into his eyes, still not sure how the hell I'm going to convince him not to go to the police.

  Thankfully, he nods and we sit in silence for a while.

  I don't want to ask the next question, but I do anyway.

  “Luke, who else have you been with that dances at school?”

  He's shaking as he looks up at me.

  He pushes the wine glass around on the table before picking it up and bringing it to his lips.

  “All of them,” he whispers, quickly gulping down the Shiraz.

  CHAPTER 12

  I love you so much, it hurts.

  I wonder who the first person to ever say those words was.

  There was a singer in the forties who wrote a song about it, Floyd Tillman.

  I listen to that song on repeat these days with all the whores around me. I lie in the centre of them forlornly, like a love sick puppy, thinking of you.

  Tillman's voice is haunting as it echoes throughout the basement. It's really quite a charming song.

  From the words, I feel like Tillman just understands me. Understands us. Understands what I'm going through in order to be with you again.

  I'm waiting for the day we can finally be together again, my love.

  It hurts me so that I have to wait this way.

  It is bitter sweet though, because I know our forever is coming soon.

  I just have to be patient.

  My phone rings. Again.

  It's been ringing incessantly all day.

  I want to tell everybody to leave me alone.

  I'm busy!

  I role my eyes and ignore the call.

  The girls all around me stare at the phone like it's the holy grail... and I guess to them, it is.

  Such a pity I won't let them near it, isn't it?

  CHAPTER 13

  I wake tangled up in my bedsheets, Luke's arm slung over me. He's snoring softly.

  I take the moment to look at him properly.

  His eyelids flicker as he dreams, his mouth slightly open.

  I count the freckles sprinkled across the bridge of his nose.

  His nostrils slowly flare as he exhales and his lips twitch.

  Last night plays over and over again in my head.

  How genuine he seemed. The fear I saw in his eyes.

  Now he looks so peaceful, like he's finally let go and can rest.

  I like that he feels safe with me.

  I like that he tried to make me feel safe with him.

  I still have no clue what I'm doing. I'm working myself up for heartbreak if I continue this.

  We could never work.

  I know I'm over-thinking it but I just can't stop. Cody is better suited for me. We're the same age. It isn't illegal.

  I sigh, shaking my head as these thoughts fly through my mind.

  He stirs when I try to slide out from under his arm.

  “Morning,” he blinks up at me, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He pulls me in for a kiss. His morning breath doesn't bother me. His hands grasp at the back of my head, his fingers intertwining with my hair.

  “Thanks for last night,” he whispers into my ear.

  I hadn't intended on sleeping with him. Not after what he'd told me – but he'd broken down right at the table in front of me.

  Tears had streamed down his blotchy face.

  He'd tried to hide it from me but the bottle of wine we'd finished together had loosened him up.

  It had loosened me up, too.

  I'd gone around the table to hug him. I put my arms around his shoulders and pulled him in to me.

  He fell into my arms like a small boy. It was the first time in a while I felt needed.

  I could feel his relief at being held.

  He could sense my relief in being needed.

  We were two broken parts coming together, helping each other when we both needed it the most.

  “It's OK,” I'd soothed, kissing his forehead lightly.

  He looked so scared. I cradled him for what seemed like hours, until he'd fallen asleep in my bed.

  His eyes are still puffy now from crying and exhaustion.

  “I'll make us some coffee,” I smile shyly as I slip out of the bedroom, self-conscious about the pyjama shorts I'd wriggled into last night.

  Michael was the last person I'd woken up to and he was used to seeing me dressed down, hair up and with a clean face.

  I worry Luke will look at me and wonder why the hell he's in my bed when he sees me without my usual work clothes and make-up – but he barely seems to notice.

  It all seems surreal and oddly normal.

  River wags her tail at me as I come into the kitchen and gives my hand an excited lick, like she hasn't seen me for ages.

  I flick on the kettle and scoop some pellets into her bowl before opening the back door for her.

  I stir honey into the coffees, watching River hop around the garden. She's getting more mobile on three legs now, although I can see she still struggles.

  There's so much going on right now yet despite it all I catch myself singing under my breath, like I'm in my own little unpoppable bubble.

  While my head should be thinking about the threats, Robyn and the other missing girls and my financial crisis, I'm focusing on the positive. I wonder if the higher dosage of medicine is responsible for my momentary bliss.

  For just one moment everything seems calm. As it should be.

  “Knock knock!”

  There's a rapping of knuckles against the door. I spin around and see Cody standing just outside.

  I drop the teaspoon I was holding in shock.

  “Hi!” I breathe.

  “Sorry, I startled you!” he laughs softly.

  I lean against the counter, hoping Luke won't come out into the kitchen.

  The cottage is open plan. The kitchen connects into the living room with no door between them. There's only a short hallway leading down to the bedrooms. My mouth goes dry.

  The reminiscence from last night is all over the place.

  The empty wine bottle, two glasses by its side. Luke's shoes are just out of Cody's sight.

  “Have some company last night?” Cody asks me.

  His voice is friendly enough but I feel instantly invaded.

  “Yeah. Old friend popped over,” I giggle nervously.

  His eyebrow hitches as he nods. He knows I have no friends here. He looks me up and down.

  My shorts cling to my thighs and my baggy t-shirt has holes in the sleeves. I'm barefoot and my hair is twirled up into a messy bun.

  I suddenly feel the need to cover myself up.

  “I just wanted to see if you wanted to get some coffee before work?” he says slowly.

  I'm not sure who's more embarrassed at seeing me like this, him or me.

  “Oh, no thanks! I just made a cup,” I gesture towards the coffee.

  My heart stops.

  He sees the two coffee cups next to the kettle, not just one.

  “Sure. See you in class,” he gives me a sombre look that riddles me with guilt.

  I watch him pat River on the head as he walks away.

  *

  Two days later an envelope drops through my letterbox. It lands with a thud onto the dusty wooden floorboards.

  River hobbles up to it, sniffing at it curiously.

  “What is it River?” I ask her, rubbing behind her ears as I pick up the envelope.

  My name is scrawled across it in pretty handwriting that looks curiously like mine. The envelope is thick and heavy in my hands. I tear it open from the glue, letting a stack of photographs fall out onto the floor.


  I crouch down to pick them all up and freeze.

  I'm stunned.

  I can't breathe.

  I'm teetering on the edge of sanity.

  The first photograph I see is one of Luke outside of my sisters front door.

  The next is of me opening the door. I'm wearing the ripped jeans, white strap top and coral blazer I'd been wearing the other day. The cricket bat is in my hand.

  The third photograph is of me letting him in.

  There's a growing pain in my chest as I flick through more of them.

  Us at the table, drinking wine.

  Me hugging him, my body pressed right up against his.

  His head buried into my chest.

  The next one is graphic. I'm on top of him, naked.

  It's so close that I can see scratches on my back from his nails as he'd pulled me down to him. How had someone taken these?

  The last one is of both of us asleep in my bed. It looks like it was taken from inside the cottage. How did someone get in here?

  How had River not noticed?

  Bile rises in my throat. This is bad. There's a note scribbled on the back of the last photograph.

  'There are more of these. Stop looking for me or I will make sure everyone sees them.'

  I run to the windows and close all of the curtains, my mind racing.

  I lock every door. Dash through the cottage, checking every room to make sure I am alone like I used to do as a child if our foster mother went out and left us alone.

  I feel trapped.

  Someone is watching me.

  Someone could give these to the headmaster or to the police.

  My life would be ruined. I'd lose everything. Again.

  I am so ashamed. What have I done?

  I can hardly walk as I make my way to the bathroom.

  I open the cabinet and take a handful of pills with a big gulp of water straight from the tap.

  I wait for my heart rate to ease, slumped on the floor.

  I think about Robyn. How I used to rock her back and forth in my arms when the paranoia would take hold of her in the big, empty house.

  I wish I had someone to do that for me right now.

  I light a fire and burn the photographs one by one. I watch the flames lick the edges of the shots and curl around them like a blanket.