Under My Skin

by James Dawson

  Oh God oh God oh God. ‘What?’

  ‘Good! I just wanted an honest reaction.’

  Tears clouded Sally’s vision. ‘Of course I didn’t!’ Molly Sue did it, she told herself, clinging to that possibility.

  Mr Roberts let out a sigh of relief and his shoulders seemed to sink. ‘My mind ran away with itself. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how you were with her when she fell, you were behind her on the stairs, you were the understudy . . . I kept thinking, “No one wants to be Audrey that badly,” but then the CCTV from that day got wiped when we had the break-in and I sort of thought how clever that would be, to make it look like a burglary when it was actually a cover-up.’

  He viewed her with shrewd eyes. All Sally could do was shake her head. ‘Sir, I swear I had nothing to do with it. I was nowhere near her when she fell.’

  ‘I asked the cleaner and he said you left together . . .’

  Sally’s legs felt brittle and hollow. Please don’t faint.

  Molly Sue finally spoke. ‘Just deny everything, you hear me?’

  ‘We . . . we did, but didn’t stay together long. Melody didn’t even like me; she thinks I’m a loser. There’s no way she’d walk home with me. I . . . I . . .’

  ‘Sally, it’s OK. If you tell me you didn’t do it, I believe you. I’m sorry, don’t get upset.’ He rubbed her arm.

  ‘I didn’t!’

  ‘That’s all I needed to hear. I just had to ask, you know? Keep up the good work with Audrey. Dress rehearsal next week! Can you believe it?’ Apparently satisfied his interrogation had worked, he swished off the stage, leaving her alone in the wings of Skid Row.

  Oh. My. God. Sally let out a shaky breath. Her hands were trembling. That was way too close.

  Her voice cut through Sally’s thoughts like a blade. ‘What are you talkin’ ’bout, darlin’? What if he tells the police his little theory? He needs to be stopped.’ Molly Sue was deadly serious.

  Sally slammed her bedroom door shut and pulled her T-shirt off. She went straight to the bathroom as Molly Sue slid round to her front and looked her in the eye. ‘Are you listening? We aren’t doing anything! We got away with it – he believed me!’

  Molly Sue arched an eyebrow. ‘Girl, he got your number. He’s snooping around askin’ all kinds o’ questions!’

  ‘He hasn’t got a shred of proof! There is none!’

  The look Molly Sue gave her was sour to say the least. ‘What, are you the village idiot or somethin’? What about when Melody remembers what happened? The biggest piece of proof is layin’ in the hospital. We gotta tie up these loose ends!’

  ‘No! No more! I don’t want anyone else to get hurt!’

  ‘Little late for that, don’t you think? Shoulda thought ’bout that before you sent Jill tumblin’ down the hill. Look, what if that negro teacher asks Melody what happened and it all comes floodin’ back?’

  Sally was appalled. ‘I can’t believe you just said that.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s the worst thing I done.’

  ‘End of discussion, Molly Sue! I won’t let you hurt anyone else. I won’t. I —’

  Where am I? This isn’t my house.

  Sally stood in an immaculate townhouse. A furball of a Persian cat was curled up in a ball on a chaise longue under the window – a window that had been prized open. She was in a dining room-slash-library – there was a polished wooden table with a pretty candelabra at the centre, while the walls were fully lined with books.

  Her feet moved without her permission. Once more, she prowled, ghostly footsteps over the carpet. She wore the same all-black outfit she’d worn when they broke into the school.

  What are you doing? Stop!

  Molly Sue didn’t reply.

  Sally’s body slipped through the open door into the hallway. Framed Playbills lined the walls – signed by Patti Lupone and Idina Menzel. That’s when Sally figured out where she was – Mr Robert’s house. She did know where he lived – Jennie had once pointed it out in passing – and Molly Sue had access to that knowledge.

  Molly Sue, please! This is just going to make it worse!

  The tattoo ignored her and she slipped into the kitchen. It was sleek, clean and modern. Mr Roberts was a house-proud man. Stainless steel handles jutted out of a knife block on the counter. Sally’s hand reached out for a handle and she tested each, checking what type of blade hid within the wood. Molly Sue selected the biggest carving knife, pulling it out with a deadly sounding zing. Ice blue moonlight leaked in through the blinds and reflected off the blade.

  Sally caught sight of herself in the steel. Her eyes were narrow, resolute and lethal. They were hardly her eyes at all, more like a predator’s stalking her prey. Oh my God – STOP!

  Molly Sue tested the weight of the knife in her hand, sizing it up. Satisfied, she gripped it tightly. It was cool on her skin. Moving like liquid, Molly Sue slunk back through the hall towards the stairs. She took each step on tip-toes, testing each floorboard for groans and squeaks.

  Molly Sue! What are you doing? Sally was caged in her own skull, looking on helplessly. She imagined pounding on the walls of the cell, wondering if she could somehow give her alter-ego such a crushing headache she’d have to give up and go home.

  They reached the landing. Three doors to choose from. Two stood ajar. Behind the first, Sally saw white tiles – a bathroom. Molly Sue tried the next. It was dark inside, but the curtains stood open to cast light over a home office. There were yet more books and huge piles of marking next to a Mac. Molly Sue disregarded the room and slipped back onto the landing. ‘I’ll take what’s behind door number three,’ she whispered.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Molly Sue pushed down on the handle and oh-so-slowly opened the bedroom door. Sally prayed it would screech, alert her teacher, but it glided across the carpet without even a hiss. She poured through the crack and closed it behind her.

  Molly Sue waited a moment to let her eyes adjust to the coal black bedroom. Sally made sense of the dark shapes: a bed in the centre of the room with bedside tables on each side, and she was standing next to a built-in wardrobe that ran all the way to a door in the corner, which she guessed led to an en-suite.

  Mr Roberts was a bump under a duvet that rose and fell with his chest. Air whistled through his nostrils. He slept alone. Molly Sue took another silent step towards him. Sally couldn’t even breathe. She’s going to slit his throat while he sleeps. Sally imagined a crimson cloud spreading across the pillow as Mr Roberts clutched his neck, eyes wide. She couldn’t . . . she couldn’t look.

  Molly Sue took another step. One step closer.

  Think, Sally, think! She recalled the very first time Molly Sue had taken her over at the hairdresser – the way it had felt, like a serpent slithering up into her head. Now Sally felt for it again, searching her mind for Molly Sue’s presence.

  Molly Sue raised the knife, held it over him, ready to plunge it into his back.

  There you are. She could feel her, as slippery as an eel coiled around her brain. Sally focused everything on that single feeling; she pictured Molly Sue and just squeezed and squeezed, as if she were trying to physically push a headache out of her head.

  Sally blinked and she was in the room.

  The knife fell from her hand and bounced across the carpet with a metallic ping. The hump in the centre of the bed stirred. Sally’s mouth fell open. Move! She dropped to her knees and lay flat on the floor alongside the bed. She’d once read pythons do that to size up their dinner before they attempt to swallow it.

  Above her, Mr Roberts coughed and wheezed. Sally dared not move a muscle. She didn’t even breathe. The knife still lay in the middle of the carpet. Quick as a flash, her hand shot out to draw it to her side. The bed springs creaked and groaned as her teacher rolled over. He’s getting up!

  All Sally could do was roll under the bed. She forced a space for herself next to a pair of suitcases. A split second later, a heel appeared an inch from her nose. Her eyes widened an
d a single tear ran from the corner of her eye. Her mouth was clamped so tightly shut her jaw ached.

  Rubbing his head, Mr Roberts padded across the carpet towards the en-suite. He flicked on the light and the whirr of an extractor fan started up. Sally grimaced; he’d left the door wide open. Of course he had. Who pees with the door shut if they live alone? He stood with his back to her, thankfully peeing standing up.

  She had to go – now. Shuffling out from under the bed, she awkwardly rose to her feet. He was still going – all that coffee, she guessed. In three soft strides, Sally reached the bedroom door. Biting her lip, she opened it a crack and ducked into the hallway. The toilet flushed at the same time as she clicked the door shut. She listened for a second. The bed squeaked as he clambered back into it.

  Sally edged towards the stairs, wondering if maybe she should give him a few minutes to fall asleep before making her escape. She just wanted to be out in the open night where she could breathe again.

  ‘That was a dumb thing to do, darlin’,’ Molly Sue hissed.

  Sally wasn’t sure whether she meant not killing Mr Roberts or taking back control of her limbs.

  No. It’s over, Molly Sue. No more.

  When Sally got home, although it was almost three in the morning, she was wide awake. There was so much to do before dawn. She also didn’t want to give Molly Sue a way in. She’d forced Molly Sue out of her head once, but it had taken everything she had, she wasn’t so sure she’d be able to do it again in a hurry.

  Sally felt steelier than she ever had. Somehow, she wasn’t sure how yet, she had won the tug of war in Mr Roberts’ bedroom. She’d wrestled back control. But how? And what did that mean? She mulled it over and over in that secret part of her mind that Molly Sue didn’t seem privy to.

  If only she had more time to dwell on it, but she didn’t. If she didn’t do something drastic and NOW, she truly believed someone was going to die. It was a miracle that Kyle and Melody and Mr Roberts were still breathing. Molly Sue was out for blood, and Sally had learned by now that Molly Sue always got her own way.

  As the sun rose and the birds started their chorus, Sally wrote two letters. Each took her several pages of the notebook, with crossed-through first attempts being torn out, screwed up and thrown in the bin. The first was to her parents.

  Dear Mum and Dad,

  If you get this letter it probably means I’m dead. I’m so sorry. I hope, with time, you can forgive me. I got involved in something terrible, something that I couldn’t control. No, it’s not drugs.

  I want you to know that you didn’t do anything wrong. You tried your hardest for me and for that I’m very grateful.

  I know I’m a disappointment. I did try, I really did. I’m sorry if it wasn’t enough.

  Goodbye, and all my love always,

  Sally x

  The last part was hard to write. The love was more for them than it was for her. She thought about it. She did love them. They had given her life, they had kept her safe and fed and physically warm, if not emotionally. They weren’t her friends, but they were her parents. She’d never had to live without them – she only hoped they would readjust to the life they’d had before her. She fingered the old photo of her mum laughing; once she’d been happy. They’d be happy again.

  The second letter was to Stan and Jennie.

  Dear Stan and Jen,

  If this doesn’t work, I want to say goodbye properly.

  I wonder if you have any idea how much I love the two of you. When I feel weak, just picturing you makes me stronger. When I’m down, I replay the stupid stuff you say to perk myself up. I never don’t look forward to hanging out with you. Does that make sense?

  I know we’re meant to say how awful our lives are, but I think we have fun. I don’t hate being me and that’s because I’ve got you. It feels like I’m one third of a whole.

  When I’m gone, I need you two to stick together. You only have a year of school left. Go to the same university, or if you don’t, write to each other – like, proper letters, not texts. Jennie, do not get back together with Kyle: he’s vile and how can you defy a dead girl’s dying wish? Sorry, but it’s true!

  Whatever you do, don’t stop watching Satanville. Record it for me in case they don’t show it in the afterlife.

  You’re going to be fine.

  I love you.

  Sally x

  By the time she finished the second letter she was ugly crying. She didn’t want to go . . . but she had to. It was almost six. It was time.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Sally arrived at Jennie’s house at about seven, having showered and changed. Jennie answered the door with curiosity. ‘Hey there, early bird, what’s going on? Do you have an early rehearsal or something?’

  ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Sure!’

  ‘Have your parents gone?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Jennie led her through into the lounge. It was as neat as her own house but much more minimalist. There were cream leather sofas, glass coffee tables and twigs in vases. It was that kind of house. ‘Their flight leaves at half nine, so they had to check in at half six.’

  ‘Cool.’ Sally had dressed simply in a slouchy vest with some jeans and the leather jacket. It was still cold this early and the lawns of Mulberry Hill were covered in pearls of dew.

  ‘What’s going on? Would you like some brekkie? We’ve got crumpets.’

  ‘No, I’m OK, thanks.’

  Jennie headed into the kitchen to prepare her own breakfast. She was still in her Minnie Mouse pyjamas.

  ‘Jennie . . .’ The words caught in the back of her throat, but she needed to spit them out in case Molly Sue took over again. ‘I need to talk to you.’

  Jennie splashed the juice carton down onto the worktop. ‘Oh, God. Is it true? Did you send Lucas pictures of your boobs?’

  Sally snorted. ‘No!’ She thought on that for a second. ‘But seriously, it’d be so much easier if that was it.’

  Jennie knew at once what their code meant. ‘Then what is it? You’re kinda freaking me out, Sal.’

  Sally nodded, considering her next sentence. ‘I’ll tell you everything. But first . . . I need you to tie me up.’

  Needless to say, Jennie took some convincing.

  ‘Do it,’ Sally instructed.

  Jennie frowned, but on seeing the expression on Sally’s face, secured the handcuffs around one wrist. She then fed the cuffs around the bars of the old-fashioned cast-iron radiator before clicking the second cuff into place. ‘Jennie, whatever happens, I never, ever want to know why you own these handcuffs. Is that clear?’

  Jennie allowed her a brief smile, although she mostly looked concerned. The cuffs felt sturdy enough. At the end of the day, Molly Sue only had Sally’s muscles to work with and while skilfully rowing a boat is one thing, tearing a radiator off the wall is quite another. ‘Do you know where the key is?’

  ‘Yeah . . .’

  ‘Good! Don’t tell me. Whatever you do, don’t tell me.’

  ‘OK . . .’ She was looking more baffled by the minute. ‘Are you comfortable like that?’

  Sally was now sat with her legs straight out in front of her, her back up against the cold radiator in Jennie’s bedroom. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said, although suspected she wouldn’t remain comfortable for long in that position.

  ‘Let me get you a cushion.’ Jennie hopped up and grabbed a fluffy throw pillow off her bed. She tucked it between Sally and the radiator before pulling the blinds down, although how the neighbours would be able to see her was anyone’s guess.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Sally, what is going on? This is insane.’

  Sally had already told Jennie to call Stan to tell him they were both sick and wouldn’t meet him at the corner today. There was an absence hotline to call at school too. ‘It’s about to get a lot more insane. Sit down.’

  Jennie did as she was told, leaning against her bed. Stripes of vanilla sunlight shone through the blinds across her ar
ms, making her look like a zebra. ‘Jennie, I did something so, so stupid.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘What I’m going to say is going to sound fully crazy, OK? I really need you not to laugh . . . just listen to what I’ve got to say . . .’

  ‘I promise.’ Jennie looked a little hurt. ‘I’m not going to laugh. I know you and Stan think I’m Princess Sparkles or something, but I’m not. I can be serious.’

  ‘I know.’ Sally took a soothing breath and begun. ‘Do you remember that homeless guy who got killed outside school? That was when it started . . .’ Sally told her everything, only leaving out the Kyle episode. She felt that wouldn’t be a great idea when she needed to keep Jennie on side.

  Jennie took a second to process what she’d been told. ‘Are you saying you pushed Melody Vine down the stairs?’

  ‘No! Jennie, it wasn’t me! It was Molly Sue. It’s all Molly Sue. She wants me to believe I did it, but I didn’t . . . it’s all mind games. I can show you. Lift up my vest.’ Tentatively, Jennie crawled forwards. ‘She’s on the right of my back.’ Jennie lifted the rim of her shirt.

  Sally heard her gasp. ‘Oh my God! Sally! That’s beautiful.’

  ‘Don’t be fooled. That’s not what she really looks like.’

  ‘And . . . she moves and talks? But seriously . . . ?’ Her tone left little doubt she thought Sally was nuts. Even the cast of Satanville looked down from their posters with judgement in their eyes.

  ‘Only I can hear her. I don’t think she’ll move while you’re watching. She’s been getting away with this for a long time.’

  Jennie sat directly in front of her and crossed her legs. ‘Sally, you know I love you, but do you have any idea how this all sounds? I mean, evil, vanishing tattoo parlours? Ghost nuns? It all sounds . . .’

  ‘Let me ask you something,’ Sally said, her eyes glazing with tears. ‘Does it matter? Either Molly Sue is real or I’m having a total breakdown. Either way, I’m dangerous and I don’t want to hurt anyone else. Jen, I need your help.’