The Pirouette Predator

by Jade Wright

  Photographs of the students whose lives were taken.

  Someone had even put up a video of Luke as he took his own life. I recoil at the sight of it.

  How has this not been taken down yet?!

  Before I report the video, I can't help but scroll down to read the comments. They are diabolical.

  Anonymous people have written that he's gotten what he deserved.

  One comment with over one hundred thumbs up read:

  Good riddance to The Pirouette Predator!

  I had to stop reading the comments when some people had started commenting things like, 'Justice has been served. May all the girls and Ms. Robyn Brady rest in peace.'

  I slam my phone down hard onto the bedside table. It cracks the screen.

  My sister is not dead!

  It's the first time I've seen the words 'rest in peace' and my sisters name in the same sentence.

  It's too much to stomach.

  I'm in a nightmare.

  I've been stuck in this nightmare for months.

  I bury my face into my pillow and pray to God to wake me up. Let me wake up back in Michael's arms, to be back in my home and planning my wedding.

  Let me go back to the way things were before absolutely everything fell apart.

  Please. Please. Please!

  But when I open my eyes again, I'm still here... and more messages are continuously flooding into my inbox.

  I unwillingly pick my phone back up.

  There's speculation into Luke's mental health and his connection to the missing girls.

  Over half the school faculty believe he is responsible for the abductions. Cody is among them.

  He doesn't know what I know – and he never will.

  No one will.

  Some teachers are adamant that Luke, despite all of his faults, would never have done the things people are accusing him of. There's a discussion about bullying and how to prevent it on campus.

  One of the teachers, a woman I've never spoken to before, left the last message on the group that seems to have silenced people for now, at least.

  It read:

  'Luke was pushed to the breaking point by both his fellow students and his teachers. I do not for one second believe he had anything to do with being The Pirouette Predator. Ask yourself how you would feel if everyone was accusing you of something that awful. It's no wonder the poor boy went mad. I saw the way people were looking at him! Shame on all of us for not consoling him when he needed some support.'

  I think back to yesterday, to what Luke had said.

  “I didn't do it. I didn't take those girls.”

  They were the last words he ever spoke.

  He maintained his innocence right to the very end.

  The look in his eyes, that hopeless begging stare he'd given me before he pulled the trigger haunts me.

  I desperately want to believe he was being truthful.

  If he was innocent and he really was being threatened by someone else, then that person is still out there.

  I think about the car I'd seen following Britt home, but I can't even remember the make or colour of it.

  I'm starting to second guess myself.

  When I'd finally found Britt, there had been no other cars out on the street that led straight to a dead end. Was there ever another car at all?

  My mind is spinning, playing tricks on me.

  Maybe I'm the one who was following her. Me and me alone – but why? I'd been so sure that she was in danger. I could literally sense someone’s strong desire to hurt her and it felt riveting. Exciting.

  Was it my desire?

  I think about that envelope with the photographs of Luke and I inside it, how the handwriting looked like mine.

  I think about the amount of tablets I've been taking lately, enough to make me have no recollection the next day.

  It's all eating away at my brain.

  I quickly shake the thought from my head.

  It's impossible.

  Someone has been threatening me.

  Someone did unthinkable things to my dog.

  Someone took my sister and all the girls from school.

  Someone did something to that old couple out on their daily walk. Someone is still out there.

  CHAPTER 19

  I hook River's leash onto her harness and she hops excitedly towards the front door, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. I've bundled up in my big coat and wrapped a huge scarf around my neck.

  It's colder today. The weather is toying with us.

  I shiver as I walk down my sisters driveway, stopping every so often for River to sniff at tree stumps and plants.

  It's rubbish day, so everyone's wheelie-bins are outside on the side of the road. I try to ignore the homeless people rummaging through them as I walk on by.

  They're scattering litter everywhere, discarding empty packets into the road as they desperately search for something edible.

  My neighbours rubbish tumbles down the lane in the morning breeze.

  On the way to Luke's house, I stop off at the supermarket.

  I pick out a bouquet of yellow flowers, the stems bound together with a white silk bow.

  I can't even imagine how Luke's mother must be feeling right now. Word is that she arrived at the house after news of the shootings spread.

  His house looks like it has been ripped apart.

  Eggs have been thrown all over the outside walls and doors. Rocks have been tossed through the windows.

  Toilet paper has been flung all over the trees and roof.

  My heart breaks for his mother the moment I see it.

  There's a security man parked outside now to keep the harassment at bay, I guess.

  He stops me as I'm opening up the gate to the entrance.

  “I'm just here to drop these off. I was Luke's teacher,” I tell him. He eyes the bouquet suspiciously for a few moments before nodding me through.

  I can feel his eyes on the back of my neck as I reach the front door.

  My finger trembles as I press down on the bell. I grimace as I pull back and realise the bell is full of sticky egg yolk.

  “Who is it?” a woman calls from behind the closed door.

  She's pulled back the sheer curtain just a crack and is peeping through.

  “Mrs. Archer, hi! It's Piper Brady, I am – was, Luke's teacher,” I bite my lip at my choice of words.

  There's silence for a few seconds.

  She's dropped the curtain back down again so I can't quite tell if she's still there or if she's walked away.

  “What do you want?” she asks some time later, her voice cold and vulnerable.

  River pants at my legs, looking up at me with her big, warm eyes. “I've – I've brought you some flowers,” I call through.

  It suddenly seems stupid now to have brought a woman who has just lost her son a bunch of cheap roses from a supermarket.

  They are limp in my hand.

  I'm starting to regret having come.

  “I'll just leave them by the steps,” I say, crouching to place them on the Welcome mat at my feet.

  I'm walking back down the pathway wondering what the hell I was thinking when I hear the door unlocking.

  It creaks open and the tiniest, red faced woman pokes her head out.

  “Come in before those bastard children come back with more eggs,” she shouts over to me.

  Her paper thin hands give River a pat on the head as we enter the house.

  Being back here is bizarre.

  My stomach flips at the sight of the sofa, where Luke and I had once had sex.

  It still feels like a nightmare.

  How can he be dead?

  “Tea?” his mother asks me as I follow her into the kitchen.

  The curtains are all drawn closed and there's very little natural light getting in.

  “Please. Just a bit of milk and no sugar,” I say.

  “Afraid I've only got this soy milk, that alright?” she shakes her head, her eyes wel
ling up.

  “Perfect,” I give her a weak smile, watching her pour the milk into our mugs.

  “Luke told me he was going to go vegan or something before – you know...” her voice trails off.

  I'm reminded of that very first time I visited Luke here, when I'd snooped around and found an old lamb knuckle in his fridge.

  I can't imagine him turning vegan.

  “He said it was good for your health or some nonsense. Told me to watch this documentary on Netflix called The Game Changers. He had plans, that boy. I can't believe he's gone,” her shoulders heave as she lets out a sob.

  My hand instinctively reaches out to comfort her.

  When I do, she falls into me like she's been desperately needing support.

  “Who buys a big carton of milk if they're going to – if they're going to-” she can't finish the sentence.

  “I'm so sorry,” I whisper into her ear.

  She has a musky smell on her skin that I breathe in as I rock her back and forth. It's strangely intimate considering I've only just met her, but it feels like the right thing to do.

  I can sense the relief in her as her entire body lets go and just cries.

  I know the feeling all too well.

  I have no idea what to say.

  It would be stupid to ask her if she's okay.

  Why am I here?

  River is investigating all the new smells around the house, cautiously making her way down the hallway to the bedroom.

  I remember Luke telling me that his mother had bought him those two hideous floral pillows as a house-warming gift a while back.

  She's clutching onto one of them now, cradling it in her lap like a baby.

  “Luke told me you got those for him,” I smile.

  She instantly frowns at me.

  It takes a moment for me to register what I've just done.

  Time seems frozen in place.

  Her body has gone rigid and I wonder how I'm going to explain this.

  “You've been here before?” she asks me, slowly lifting her eyes up to meet mine.

  I swallow hard, my eyes darting wildly around the room.

  “Just how well did you know my son, Ms. Brady?” she crosses her legs, straightening up.

  “I- well,” I stammer.

  Her eyes are unblinking.

  “I dropped some homework off for him a while ago when he was sick,” I lie, but it sounds completely unconvincing.

  She purses her lips and cocks her head to the side.

  “Why exactly are you here?” she asks.

  “I just – I know Luke's been getting a lot of... hate...” I wince at the word.

  She nods at me in agreement.

  “I can't imagine what it must be like; and the students vandalising the house and saying all these things about him, it must be awful.” My sincerity here, is obvious.

  Her look softens slightly.

  “It's only been a day and I just – I wanted to help somehow,” I'm speaking but I have absolutely no idea what I'm saying.

  “Help?” she asks, perplexed.

  The image of Luke pulling the trigger flashes before my eyes. There was so much blood.

  Watching his lifeless body crumple to the floor, it makes me want to throw up.

  Bile rises in my throat.

  I'm hot suddenly and my heartbeat quickens.

  I want my tablets. I'd taken two this morning already but it's not enough.

  I can feel it coming on again.

  A hellish panic, a complete blackout.

  Not here. Not now.

  “I'm grateful for the concern, dear,” she sips at her tea, her voice snapping me back into the present moment.

  I fight for my composure.

  Her eyes have glossed over.

  There's so much of Luke in her, even the body language is similar. In that moment she looks so small and vulnerable.

  The front door barges open and a man's voice booms through the house.

  “Those fucking brats are going to get my fist up their asses if they come back. The front of the house is fucked!”

  He comes stomping into the room and stops dead at the sight of me on the sofa.

  I instantly know it's Luke's dad. The same height and build, the same jawline and lips.

  This is what Luke would have grown into, a very attractive man.

  “Who is this?” he asks Luke's mum, not greeting me at all.

  His eyes are red and swollen.

  In his arm he's got a cardboard box full of beer.

  Luke's mum swallows nervously and places her mug onto the coffee table in front of us.

  “This is – was, Luke's teacher,” she's picking at the thread on the floral pillowcase.

  “I'm in no mood for company right now,” he huffs, big boots marching right past me and down the hallway.

  He reminds me of one of my foster fathers.

  Anxiety climbs up my back.

  I clench my fists, trying to slow my racing heart.

  I don't want to think of him.

  “Get the fuck out!” I hear him bellow.

  At first I think he's saying it to me, but then I see River bolt as fast as she can out of a bedroom, tail between her legs. She's shaking in fright, burrowing under my legs for protection.

  “I think it's time for me to leave,” I start to gather up my handbag and River's leash.

  It's then that something catches my eye.

  A book. One that looks all too familiar.

  “Where did you get this?” I ask her, picking up Robyn's journal.

  Luke's mother looks at it, puzzled.

  “Huh, didn't notice that before,” her eyebrows knit together as she watches me turn it over in my hands.

  I need it.

  What can I say, though?

  I can't tell her that it's mine.

  She'd wonder what Luke had been doing with it. But what if she looks inside it and realises that it's Robyn's?

  She'll take it straight to the police.

  The sound of a can of beer opening comes from down the hallway.

  A part of me doesn't want to leave this tiny woman alone with him.

  She's twisting her wedding band around on her ring finger.

  I place the book down and try not to look desperate to have it.

  She walks with me to the front door in silence.

  I thank her for the tea and am just about to leave when I pat at my jeans.

  “Oh shoot, I think I left my house keys inside. Let me just pop in and get them!” I hand her River's leash and rush back inside.

  I'm thankful that she stays by the front door with River at her side.

  My handbag is just big enough to squeeze the book inside.

  I clutch it protectively to my chest as I say goodbye.

  I'm half way down the garden path when she speaks again.

  “I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, Ms. Brady, but I know my son. He has never taken a sick day from that school. Ever. I understand you're relatively new there, but I'm telling you now, if you're in any way responsible for my son's suicide,” her voice is clipped.

  She pauses for a moment to let the word 'suicide' sink in.

  “I will find out.”

  Her words shock me.

  I have no response.

  I stand there rooted to the spot in silence.

  I shouldn't have come here.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  The words swirl in my head.

  I'm getting dizzy again. It feels as though I have vertigo. The world around me is spinning madly.

  The security guard is leaning on the bonnet of his car, watching me carefully. Sussing me out.

  I struggle to find my balance as I turn on my heels and leave the property.

  I don't say a word to the security guard.

  I keep my head down as I stumble past him.

  As soon as I've rounded the corner, the world goes black.

  *

  CHAPTER 20

 
; I am beside myself. Howling and sobbing on my hands and knees. I'm in the centre of the circle, surrounded by the whores.

  This was not supposed to happen.

  I thought he was stronger than this.

  How could he kill himself? How?!

  We were supposed to be together. He was my everything.

  My future!

  My entire plan has fallen apart.

  Everything has been for nothing.

  My heart is broken.

  I've never experienced pain like this. Never.

  Not even when the fucker cheated on me. This is worse.

  So much worse.

  Cheating is forgiveable with enough grovelling and believe me he'd need to do a lot of that if he'd stuck around!

  Britt, too!?

  How many of these girls are there?!

  More and more keep popping up like relentless fucking weeds.

  Regardless, I could have gotten over the cheating – but not this. This has broken me... and who said psychopaths have no emotions?

  The girls are all staring down at me in astonishment.

  They're startled, not used to seeing me like this.

  I miss him already.

  There's no chance of a funeral with an open casket viewing after what he's done to himself.

  I'll never see him again.

  I want to go to the morgue and find his body, hold him one last time before he starts to decay.

  I want to breathe him in before the rank smell of death takes over. Touch his hands while they're still warm.

  I love him so much – but I'm so fucking angry at him.

  The fury is taking over.

  “Stop staring at me!” I gasp, screeching at the top of my lungs. The girls' eyes are huge with fear.

  They have no idea what has happened.

  “Luke!” I wail, unable to contain myself.

  I haven't cried like this in so many years. Not since I stood scared and helplessly as that man molested me.

  I fucking hate men.

  Rage and pure heartbreak consumes me.

  I cannot breathe.

  I have to release my anger. Luke has absolutely shattered me.

  I want to hurt him as badly as he's hurt me, even though I know he's dead.

  I know I'm not thinking logically, but I can't stop.

  I think long and hard, lying on my back in front of the whores. They watch me agonize over him for hours, crying and screaming and ripping my own hair out.