by Nicola Tee
“How many times? I am not a monster, she is not dead!” Mr. Hump yells whilst deep breathing trying to calm his anger that I am causing with my continuous remarks on his humanity.
“I hired Lizzie to pretend to be a victim; she was a local drama student who needed the experience and money. So, I offered her both; the experience of acting like a spoilt teenager, and the money. I gave her the money my father left me. I haven't touched his money since the day he died as I did not want to spend my life sponging off his hard work. Once she had completed the job I handed her the relevant paperwork and sent her on her way with £50,000 more to her name, which was more than enough compensation for what she went through in my opinion, and she thought so too, hence why she agreed to do it.”
“I do not believe you. Lizzie would not do that to me. No one would do that to another human being.”
“Do you remember this morning, I was distracted by something?”
I nod. I can’t believe I was completely oblivious to the conspiracy those two had going on behind my back.
“I found the letter you were meant to receive from Lizzie scrunched behind the radiator. She double-crossed me, and no one gets away with that. I have no idea what she wrote in the letter you actually received, and that sends me over the edge as it means I am not one hundred percent in control. You see, I need to be in control at all times. I couldn’t tell the police the truth about Lizzie because I need to right her wrong myself. I need to get my own revenge on her, plus the police wouldn’t have believed the truth.”
“But why would you make her write a letter with those two words, ‘Run, darling’, in it? Surely you wanted me to stay under your control, not need encouragement to escape.”
“It was a test to see if after eight years I had morphed you into my ideal living companion. For the record, you failed the test!”
“Fine.”
“If you had passed the test I was going to give you more freedom, by not watching you like a hawk at all times. I would have given you more independence by possibly not locking your bedroom door at night, allowing you to use the bathroom and so forth. But you failed the test.”
“Whatever, I don’t care about no stupid test. If you are telling me the truth about Lizzie take me to her. I want to see that she is alive and kicking.”
He pushes my shoulder as a hint to move and leads me out of the stadium. We slowly start walking through a nearby field. I follow closely behind like a well-trained dog being walked by its owner, privileged enough to be off the lead as it obeys the rules.
“Duck!” Mr. Hump screams.
I fall to my belly. My heart begins to race, what is going on? My body holds itself perfectly still, petrified of any movement giving away my location. I am tangled amongst the overgrown weeds, trying to hide from the circling helicopter above. I wait for his next instruction.
“Crawl behind me, belly on the floor at all times, do you understand?” he orders.
“Yes.”
We are like slugs, moving along slowly and cautiously. The field looks never-ending. My arms begin to ache within minutes. We crawl for what feels like miles, and with every movement, my clothes get dirtier and dirtier, my hands get sorer and sorer, and my legs get more and more tired.
Mr. Hump crawls us to an old maintenance lockup across at the other side of the field, tucked behind these run-down public toilets.
“We will sleep here tonight until the search party moves to another location.”
“Won’t they find us here?”
“Maybe they will. Maybe they won’t. Only time will tell.”
“Okay,” I reply, once again completely under his control, but for the first time questioning his strategy. We can’t get caught before I see Lizzie. But then again maybe he wants us to get caught so he doesn’t have to take me to Lizzie because she is actually dead. I don’t know anymore.
Mr. Hump knows the combination to the locked door. How does he know it? Do I really care? No! I cuddle into the far-left corner of the average garden-sized lockup, so I can be as far away from him as possible. I instantly close my eyes to hold back the tears as my thoughts are swamped by the fact that my life had gone out of the frying pan and into the fire, all in the space of one day. I am officially on the run from the police, working with the man who destroyed me, I have learned my father sold me, and that my best friend Lizzie potentially faked her death for a pay-day. My life couldn’t get more into the fire if it tried.
The sun is piercing through the tiny rusty window, waking me up. A new day is upon me. Surely it has to be a better day than yesterday. I suppose it is already looking up because Mr. Hump and I still have our freedom, no one found us in the night. I climb to my feet and lightly kick him, so he can wake up. He furiously grabs my ankle, nearly sending me flying.
“I am awake!” he belts out.
I stand on my tippy toes, wipe the window with my sleeve to peep outside and see the blurry world. All I can see are green trees, green weeds and green grass. I hear nothing. The silence is welcomed for the first time ever. Mr. Hump was right, the police had moved onto a different area in search of us, so we should be able to get to Lizzie fairly easily.
“So today you are going to prove to me that you aren’t a monster.”
“Follow me, then,” he tuts as he pushes the shed door open and leads us back into the world. We once again walk through the overgrown weeds in search of a dirt track that Mr. Hump remembers riding his bike along as a kid. I suppose the bonus of him being big and me being small is that he keeps knocking all the weeds out the way, creating a nice little path for me. We finally find the dirt track, and it is exactly where he remembers it being, that man doesn’t forget a thing. He is an attention to detail kind of person, which is coming in quite handy.
“Just up here is a parade of shops where we can get some food,” he mutters.
Food, yes, food, I think to myself! I don't want to show how excited I am by that word, so I keep a straight face and nod, whilst silently jumping for joy on the inside as I can’t remember the last time I ate. We trek up the dirt track and dart for the first shop we see.
“We need to be in and out,” he demands as we enter.
I instantly grab a pack of peanuts perched on the shelf and start to gulp them down before we make it to the till to pay. Mr. Hump is being his usual forward-thinking self: by picking up a few spare t-shirts for us. I have got so used to my smell that I have forgotten that I need to change clothes and put some deodorant on.
“That will be £42.99, please, mate,” says the tall, dark-haired, piercing-green-eyed cashier. I hold back as I have no money on me and I am pretty sure Mr. Hump is also penniless. I need to finish this pack of peanuts before the cashier realises we cannot afford our shopping.
“What if I give you this watch?” Mr. Hump propositions. He then hands over his expensive looking watch, as an insurance policy for the bill.
“If you come back tomorrow and pay the bill you will get your watch back,” the cashier replies.
He continues, “And I am only doing this as a favour to your mum.”
“Okay,” Mr. Hump replies.
“What do you mean his mum?” I interrupt.
“Nothing,” Mr. Hump snaps back.
I shuffle myself forward as I no longer fear that my peanuts and Pringles will be taken away. I am too tired to get to the bottom of the mum comment.
“Do you have a toilet here, please?” I ask, much to Mr. Hump’s disapproval as I am delaying proceedings.
“Yes, down the back, to the left.”
“Thank you.” I make my way to the toilet with Mr. Hump following closely behind me. As soon as I get through the toilet door, I pull my dirt-stained top off over my head and I throw it on the floor. Mr. Hump’s eyes are fixed on my free-moving boobs, I can feel him zooming in on them, almost like he has never seen a pair before.
“Privacy, please,” I request.
He snaps out of his fixation bubble and turns around so his back is faci
ng me. Now he is using the wall mirror to sneak a further peek, but I allow him to as it feels empowering, teasing him with what my mama gave me. Although I can’t believe he is finding a rib cage sticking out and underarm hair attractive. I put on a fresh t-shirt, a generous amount of deodorant and throw my dirty top in the bin. At least now I smell a bit better, till I can have a thorough wash.
Cinderella
The speakers blast. “Please welcome to the stage, the cast of Cinderella. Give them a round of applause, ready for their performance tonight!”
There she is. A fuller version of the Lizzie I remember. Obviously, some of the money she had got from Mr. Hump went on food. She looks straight past Mr. Hump and me, which isn't surprising as we are tucked around the side of the stage, as this was the only seats we could discreetly grab since we didn’t buy tickets. Who would have thought a budget production of Cinderella would be so popular in the early afternoon? Beneficial really as we managed to slip past security lost amongst the crowd.
The performance starts, and I can’t wait to see Lizzie’s – A.K.A. Cinderella’s – face when she sees us. Her eyes gaze to the left of the room and then travel around the audience reaching the far right. She still hasn’t noticed us. Give it a moment. Now. She looks directly into my eyes. Lizzie goes as white as a ghost in a heartbeat, which is ironic as it feels like I am the one seeing a ghost. Once she snaps out of her sheer shock state she drops her prop and runs off the stage, abruptly halting the show. I fly up from my seat and chase after her.
“That was my sister, please let me pass.” I can’t believe how convincing a liar I am.
“Go on through, ma’am,” the security guard responds.
I walk down the corridor, looking for her dressing room. In bold letters on the third door from the left, I see a sign that reads ‘Elizabeth Jackson’. It would have caught a person with an oblivious eye’s attention, it was that prominent. I cautiously open and close the dressing room door behind me and stand in silence as she uncontrollably stuffs all her belongings into a bag to make a great escape.
I interrupt her meltdown as the anger inside me is at boiling point and I need to let it out.
“Are you going to run, darling?” I sarcastically quip.
She swings around with her head hanging in shame, but the self-pity seeping out of her isn’t going to stop me from further putting her in her place.
“You are meant to be dead, Lizzie!” Before I even allow her time to reply, I erupt like a dominant volcano finally having a long overdue release.
“Do you remember when I would stay awake at night and sing to you to calm you down? You must have been laughing on the other side of the wall. You made a proper fool out of me, didn’t you? But credit where credit is due, you had me fooled, I thought you were a victim like me but all you were and are is a calculating, money hungry, self-absorbed bitch. But do you know what hurts the most? I wanted to swap places with you, so you could eat. I would have rather starved to death than watched you starve. I would have done that for you.”
“I am sorry,” Lizzie tearfully whispers.
“Sorry? You’re sorry! I am sorry because the day I found you dead, sorry, faking being dead, I had to clean out your room while my tears continuously fell. I cried so much that day that my eyes were on fire, to the point where I couldn't even open them properly come evening-time. Oh, and I found your note tucked away and that note truly broke my heart. At least now I know why you signed the letter saying, ‘I am sorry’. Clearly, those are your famous last words. I have one question for you. Was it worth it? Were the lies and betrayal worth £50,000?”
“No, there is no amount of money to compensate nearly starving to death and being buried alive,” Lizzie mumbles.
“Excuse me! You knew what you were getting yourself into! What about no price on betraying another human being to the extent you betrayed me? Do you not understand? I buried you! I stood there feeling helpless as the soil covered your body. I even placed a hairband on a stick as a marker, so one day I could come back and find you. I wanted to give you a proper funeral, one I thought you deserved. Were you that desperate for the money that you would break my heart to this degree?”
“I was desperate, and you will be surprised what you do when you have nothing,” Lizzie states in an attempt to justify her disgraceful actions. I am not sure whether she is trying to convince me or herself that what she did was okay.
“Not only did you sell your body, you sold your morals, something you cannot come back from and no one can be that desperate.”
Lizzie once again bows her head, probably hoping the ground will swallow her up.
“A little bit of advice for you. You’d better run, darling, as I am not sure who will catch you first, Mr. Hump or the police. If it is Mr. Hump, then good luck because you will need it. Although if it is the police, as I will be telling them how you faked your own death, you will finally know how it feels to be held a real prisoner. I wonder if you will cope in a real prison when all you have been subjected to is a role play one?”
“How did you get past security so quickly?” says a flustered Mr. Hump as he kicks in the door.
“Oh, hello, Elizabeth, do you think you were clever? Did you think you could outsmart me? Oh, you silly girl, how many times do I have to tell you? I will always be the smartest person in the room. We wrote a note together for Kate to find. Did you suddenly get a conscience? Well, if you have it is too late. Kate knows everything, you stupid girl. I would have kept our agreement secret, but you crossed me, so go on, tell me what you really wrote in that note. Did you encourage Kate to actually escape? Tell me!”
“You wanted me to write in the note for her to run, darling, as well!” Lizzie argues.
“Yes. But I phrased the note perfectly, to make it a test for Kate, a test I knew she would pass because I trained her well.”
“Hello, I am in the room you know!” They continue to ignore me by not breaking eye contact with one another.
“Whatever you wrote caused her to actually run and now we are all in this mess because of you! You idiot!” screams Mr. Hump.
“I will wait outside, I do not want any part of this,” I say as I walk towards the door. I don’t know why I am bothering to inform them that I am leaving as they are already treating me like I am invisible.
I hate Lizzie, but I am not a monster. I couldn't look at myself in the mirror again if I am part of what might happen next. I close the door behind me and leave them to it. I stand on guard, trying to feel less like a spare part.
“Sorry she is still puking her guts up,” I repeat a handful of times to the concerned and extremely anxious production crew members. I have forgotten how gullible some people are. Actually, it is a thrill lying to people and knowing about this secret rendezvous that is happening just metres behind me. It isn’t long before Mr. Hump swings the door open and sends me flying into the opposite wall. I’m too scared to peep my head around the door and see what he has done to Lizzie. Therefore, I quickly follow him down the hallway to the emergency exit.
“Wait for me!” I shout. As soon as we exit the building, he stops in his tracks, turns around and looks directly into my eyes.
“I am off to enjoy my freedom while it lasts. You are free to go back to the police and tell them everything. Go and clear your name, Kate. I will be waiting for them to come and find me. It's okay. Go.”
“Wait, say I go to the police, then what? I have nothing! I have no home to go back to, not now I know the truth about my father,” I cry.
“That is not my problem!” he shouts.
“Yes, it is! You bought me for ten years, therefore you owe me another two years. I want you to help me build myself a life, so I can leave all this behind. The way the officers looked at me back at the station was with sheer pity. They will lock me up in a mental hospital and say my past has led to me having a breakdown. I would rather keep running than have doctors’ dose me with medication every hour. I cannot be locked up again.”
> “So, you aren’t going to the police?” questions a confused Mr. Hump.
“No, not if you help me,” I repeat.
He hesitates, “Erm, okay. What do you need?”
“A place to stay for a few days while I figure out what to do next,” I beg as I really do not have anyone else to ask for help.
“Well, I am heading off to my childhood cottage, so you can come along and stay as long as you need until you decide on what to do with your life.”
“That is not such a good idea. I may have told the police where it was,” I quietly confess.
“Bless you. I told you a completely different place to where it actually is. As I said, I am always the smartest person in the room.”
I nod as I can’t help but think he is right.
“The cottage is miles away, so we need to find a car.”
“What can I call you?” I ask.
“Greg.”
“Okay before we find a car, there is one more thing I need to ask.”
“What is it?” he impatiently replies as I am unintentionally delaying the proceedings with my Spanish inquisition.
“Once we get to the cottage I want you to let me lock you up in a small room with a mattress and pillow. I want you to let me feed you three meals a day, the same meals every day. Let me give you minimal water so you can go crazy over whether to take a swig or not. Let me get my feet out, and make you rub cream into them. And let me put a piping hot spoon on the back of your hand.”
“And why would I let you do that?”
“Revenge? Your choice. I can’t let you get away with what you did to me, therefore if I do it back to you I will feel a lot better about everything.”
“Okay.”
We continue to walk down the road. Mr. Hump eyes up everything we pass, seeing whether it could make the cut as our potential getaway vehicle or not. He is taking charge of the car hunt, which I am relieved about as I have never stolen anything in my life. Well, maybe a few penny sweets when I was young but surely that doesn’t count. I fancy a flash car, one where we could put the roof down, drive ultra-fast and have the wind blow my hair everywhere. Once again, my imagination is running wild.