After a few sessions with Ed he sat me down and said he was concerned I was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, otherwise known as PTSD. He asked me if there had been an event in my life that could have sparked this.
Unable to reveal the truth, I explained that my parents had died in a car crash when I was small and that was why I lived with my grandmother. He told me that it was possible I’d suppressed feelings from that time and that would explain why I was suffering with the symptoms. Ed advised that I made an appointment to see my GP to discuss this further. I promised I would as I left his office.
I had no intention of visiting a doctor or talking to Ed about any of this again. Instead I did my own research on the disorder. For the last few years I’d been used to dealing with things on my own. I didn’t need a doctor or a shrink getting involved and digging about in my life. I couldn’t risk jeopardising everything I had worked so hard to achieve. It was too late for Mummy but I still had a chance to have a good and happy life.
Like I’d always done, I turned to books and research to learn as much as I could. It quickly became clear that Ed had come up with the right diagnosis. My symptoms were a classic case of PTSD and I could feel the pressure building. The insomnia I’d been suffering, the nightmares and the blackouts all suggested I was suffering from the disorder. But I refused to seek medical help. There would be too many questions. I had to find a way to cope with this myself and I set about working out a lifestyle plan that would keep it at bay.
I had come so far. I wasn’t ready to give in yet. The same way I had dealt with Mummy by myself, I would deal with this alone.
39
The Pica Explorer
Day five. Hour 22:30.
‘I’m tired, Susie. I’m so tired.’ I lean my head against the cold wall and feel the life seeping out of my bones. ‘I can’t fight anymore. It’s pointless.’
‘What are we going to do?’ She cuddles up to me and nuzzles her head into mine.
‘Let’s go and lie down, just for a little while.’
‘It’s the lack of oxygen,’ Susie says, sniffing back tears.
‘I don’t care anymore. Let’s just go to sleep for a bit.’
‘Okay.’ She wipes her eyes and we make our way to the only comfortable room left where we can lie in peace, away from the bodies that litter the submarine.
‘It’s so cold.’ Susie shivers, reaching for a large coat that hangs on a hook on the back of the door. ‘Here, we can use this as a cover.’
We go over to the bottom bunk and pull as many layers as we can over ourselves for heat before lying down next to one another. Our breath clouds the air and breathing is beginning to feel difficult.
‘Just a short sleep. That’s all,’ I say, closing my eyes, no longer able to fight the fatigue.
‘Yes, rest.’ Susie yawns and I feel her tense body relax a little.
Sleep comes within seconds and the horror of our prison melts away into oblivion.
I wake some time later in a cold sweat. Nightmares have plagued my sleep and I don’t feel rested at all. Susie tosses and turns next to me, trapped inside her own troubled mind. I ease away from her, not wanting to wake her despite the pained look on her sleeping face.
Standing up, still feeling drowsy, I listen to the sound of the submarine all around me. The creak of the metal, the sound of my shallow breathing, the little sighs that come from Susie. I know I am dying. We both are and there is nothing I can do to change that.
I imagine people on the surface, hundreds of metres above, trying to solve the mystery of our disappearance. It’s hard to believe that with all the technology man has invented, they cannot find us. But then I think about the size and depth of the ocean and I realise it isn’t a surprise. It must be like looking for a needle in a haystack, or a drop in the ocean…
We are truly lost and this is where we will rest.
All I wanted to do was make films. I wanted to have a happy, easy life. One day I’d planned to have a family of my own, a house in the country perhaps. This was not how it was meant to end.
I slump to the floor and let the hopelessness of the situation take over. My body shakes, my stomach twists into knots and the room spins as if I am on a merry-go-round. Maybe this is all just a bad dream. Perhaps I am imagining it all. Maybe none of them exist and I’m not on the submarine at all, just trapped inside a very long and realistic nightmare that refuses to let me go.
Just when I think I am going to pass out, or die, something brings me back into reality. A sound. Something far away that is growing closer with each thud. I hear it like a beating drum rattling around my skull, echoing in my bones. The sound of my breathing fades into the background and all I can hear is that sound.
With a start Susie sits bolt upright, banging her head and cussing as she does so. ‘What is that noise?’ she asks, rubbing her head.
‘You can hear it too?’ I feel instant relief. I am not going mad.
‘Yes.’ She cranes her head to try and work out what direction it is coming from. Then the penny drops.
‘Luke.’ It hits me like a eureka moment. ‘It must be Luke.’
‘What do we do?’ Susie pulls her knees up to her chin and hugs herself.
The two of us remain listening for some time as the sound gradually fades as if he is losing the energy to carry on. Then it stops.
Susie and I sit looking at each other with bated breath, waiting for the banging to start again.
‘Maybe he’s dead,’ I mouth, not wanting to shatter the welcome silence.
‘Maybe he’s not.’ Susie’s wide eyes are fixed on the door.
‘Let’s lock ourselves in.’ I get to my feet, feeling shaky. ‘Come on, help me secure the door. It sounds like he might have got out.’
‘There’s nothing in here. No food, no water.’ She begins to panic.
‘Okay, okay.’ I bend over and put my head between my legs, trying to suck in air to stop myself from passing out. ‘Let’s get some supplies.’
‘I’ll go.’ Susie pulls back the layers she had been sleeping under and bolts towards the door. ‘Stay here. If I’m not back in a few minutes, then find somewhere to hide.’
‘You can’t.’ I reach out as she disappears.
Those few moments alone in the room seem to last a lifetime. Luke is no longer making any sound and I can’t hear or see any sign of Susie. I don’t want to die in this room alone. Susie has been the only thing that has kept me going. I need her to come back and for the first time in my life I pray. I get on my knees and ask God to save me, to save us. My hands are pressed tightly together and I repeat the words over and over again.
Like a miracle, when my eyes open, I see Susie standing there. Her arms are full of supplies and I scrabble to stand and hug her tightly.
‘Thank you,’ I cry into her hair. ‘Thank you.’
She puts what she has collected on a table and grabs hold of a bottle of whisky.
‘Let’s go out with a bang.’ She smiles through her tears.
‘You made it. You’ve saved us.’
Susie looks at me strangely. ‘We need to lock that door. The door to the room Luke was in is now open. He’s out there somewhere.’ She grabs a chair and props it up against the handle. ‘I got all the food I could see. There isn’t much.’ She pants, tired from the energy it has taken to get the food and lock us in. ‘So this is it.’
‘Okay.’ I nod, looking at the meagre amount that is left to sustain us. ‘I guess it’s just you and me now.’
40
Child
Everything had been good at first. The relationship grew quickly from nothing. Our attraction was instant.
We met in a bar and got chatting, and the next thing I knew we were in bed. For weeks we spent as much time in each other’s company as possible. We’d both been in London for a while and were both starting out on our new career paths. We were like two sides of the same coin. One of us was led by their head, the other by their heart. There was a
balance that worked and was harmonious. I’d found my soulmate and the person I was meant to be with.
It took some time before we decided to live together. Neither of us wanted to rush into that and risk spoiling what we had.
In the evenings we would meet and have long dinners, chatting, laughing, sharing our hopes and fears. It became difficult to tell where one started and the other one ended but that was all part of the magic.
The excitement in the early days was tangible. Meeting someone who I connected with so closely left me floating on a cloud. I never knew love like that could exist. I’d never been loved in my life. I’d only ever felt it once and that had been for a little bird.
I felt complete at last, as if what had been taken away from me, when Robin was killed, had now been replaced with something even better.
I knew then that my life would be good and everything bad that had happened was now firmly in the past where it belonged.
As is natural at the start of any relationship, questions were asked about my upbringing, where I’d come from and who my family were but I managed to deal with these with ease. I never lied, I just avoided telling the truth. It was my job to protect this new love from the vile truth of my childhood. And I was no longer that person so it wouldn’t have done any good to share it. I had transformed into something new. Like a butterfly, I’d shed the ugly cocoon that had kept me trapped as a child and now I was a proud, confident and successful adult. That was the person I wanted my lover to see.
When we decided to take the plunge and move in together it felt like the natural thing to do. All of our spare time was spent together anyway and we missed each other terribly when we were apart.
I will never forget that thrilling moment when we collected our keys. I was amazed that something so small, which was made of metal, could make me feel so much happiness.
We lived together for months without any problems. It didn’t take long for us to discuss marriage and children. We wanted a future together and it felt, for the first time, that I had landed in the right place. I was with the person I was meant to be with; someone kind and good. Someone who never pushed me or asked me to be anything other than what I was.
Our flat wasn’t the nicest in London but it was our little haven. It was a place I felt safe and a home where we grew closer and made plans.
We put our own stamp on it, decorating it in a way we both liked despite having different tastes. But that is the thing about love, it is about compromise – it is about understanding each other’s differences and making room for them. Not once did either of us try to change the other.
The other special thing about our relationship was how supportive we were of each other’s careers. Our jobs were very different but we encouraged each other to strive for more.
When I came home and revealed that I’d been offered a job working with Frank Holden I was given the warmest hug and congratulations. I was so thrilled with the opportunity and what it meant that I began to cry.
It was in that moment that everything changed and my past came flooding into the future.
‘Don’t cry. This is a good thing. Be happy.’ We kissed and I felt wonderful. ‘You just need one of my special hugs…’
I backed away full of terror, tripping over a rug as I put distance between our bodies. Before I had a moment more to think, I picked up a large vase and threw it across the room at my love.
It hit the wall and smashed into a thousand pieces.
‘What’s wrong, darling?’ My love couldn’t understand what was wrong.
‘Special hug?’ My lower lip trembled, which sent a wave of shock through my body.
‘Yes, all you need is a special hug.’
On a table near the sofa I saw a pair of scissors and grabbed them. Before I knew what was happening I was plunging them into the chest of my lover over and over again.
‘How could you!’ I cried when the body stopped moving. ‘I thought you were the one. It was a trick. You were just pretending when you were him all along.’
Crying, covered in blood and exhausted, I finally fell asleep next to the corpse. When I woke and saw what I’d done I knew I would never escape from Mummy or what had happened to me. With those few words my life had done a somersault and I was thrown back into the past again.
I got up and removed a blue blanket from the sofa and covered my love with it.
‘Shhh, darling. Sleep.’ I wiped the blood off on my hands and onto my trousers. ‘I am going to have a shower now. Look at the state of me.’ Stepping over the body I turned back to have another look. ‘I’ll see you later. Don’t go anywhere.’
41
The Pica Explorer
Day six. Hour 06:00.
We sit and drink the whisky like our lives depend on it. I’ve never been much of a drinker. I don’t like the blackouts or feeling like I am losing control but here, with Susie, in this godforsaken situation, I embrace the fog that alcohol has to offer.
She glugs from the bottle like a pro. Each sip I take burns my throat and makes me gag.
I watch, as gradually her shoulders relax and her speech becomes slurred. The whisky is working its magic.
‘What’s the point?’ she mumbles. ‘We might as well drink ourselves to death, eh?’ She takes another large mouthful of the honey liquor; a small drop escapes her mouth and runs down her chin before she hiccups. ‘So, Zara-Zoo, what are you going to miss about your life?’ She lies back onto a pile of clothes and blankets, and closes her eyes. ‘Tell me.’
I try to think for a moment. What will I miss?
‘Come on,’ she encourages, swinging the bottle in her hand, ‘there must be something. What about your chap, what was his name, erm, Oscar?’
‘Olly.’ The whisky is swishing in my stomach like the waves in the ocean that is holding us captive. ‘His name was Olly.’
‘Was?’ She sits up and hiccups again.
‘I won’t see him again.’
‘That’s true.’ A sad expression settles on her face and she lies down again.
‘Just get some sleep.’ I get up and go over to her, pulling a coat from underneath her and covering her with it. ‘You’re drunk.’
‘Maybe if you got drunk you’d feel better,’ she slurs, fighting the urge to pass out.
‘I don’t like it when people get drunk,’ I sigh. ‘It reminds me of my mummy.’
Seconds later Susie has dropped the bottle and is fast asleep.
I pull a chair over to look at her. She is small and fragile, just like Robin was.
‘I can’t believe I found you again, little bird.’ My hand reaches out and brushes the hair from her face.
Susie moves in her sleep, completely unaware of the new situation she is in.
‘I knew we’d be together again one day,’ I whisper, making sure that the strips of fabric I’m using to tie Susie to her chair are secure. I sit back to admire my friend as her head lolls about in a drunken daze.
Then I open a packet of digestive biscuits and munch on one while I wait for Susie to come round. It tastes good although my throat is raw from the whisky.
Gradually Susie starts to wake up and I’m filled with excitement.
‘Come on, little bird,’ I encourage, ‘wakey, wakey.’
When she opens her eyes, it takes her a moment to realise she is restrained. ‘What the…’ Susie wriggles in her chair. ‘Zara?’ Confusion clouds her face.
‘There you are! I’ve been waiting for you.’
She looks down at her bound feet and tries to tug at the fabric that keeps her hands tied behind her back.
‘What are you doing?’ Susie stutters.
‘I promise’—I inch closer—‘this is for your own sake. It’s to keep you safe. I don’t want you flying away again now, do I.’
She shivers, probably as a result of the cold, and I fetch her a coat, which I drape across her shoulders.
‘I brought you some food.’ Removing another biscuit from the pack I crumble it up and sha
ke some into the palm of my hand. Susie looks at me with horror. ‘Just a little bit now. We don’t want you getting fat.’
‘Please,’ she moans.
‘I’m going to take care of you. I won’t let you go again, little bird.’ I brush the biscuit crumbs onto the floor.
‘My name is Susie. Susie Sparrow. Not little bird. Zara, what are you doing?’
‘You can’t fool me.’ I chuckle. ‘I knew it was you from the moment we met. I could sense you’d come back to me.’
‘Please, Zara, just let me go. I’ll be good. I promise I’ll be good.’
Cocking my head, I look at her for a moment wondering if she really believes that I might free her.
Her thin lips are a bluish shade of purple and her teeth are chattering. Her body cowers against the chair and I notice how her collarbone sticks out more than it did when I first saw her.
‘You should eat. It’s important. I want you to survive. That’s why I did all of this. So we could be together at the end.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Susie wails, trying to free herself and rocking backwards and forwards as the chair threatens to tip over.
‘Now, now. You don’t want to make me cross.’ I stand up and put my hands on my hips.
‘What do you want from me? Please, Zara, I don’t understand.’ Susie stops rocking on the chair and looks up at me, frightened, like a little bird.
‘You need to eat. I’ve done everything I can to make sure you and I survive. I got rid of all of those bad people just for you. The least you can do is show me some gratitude.’ I feel anger rising in me now and I want to control it. I don’t like being cross with Robin.
She sits motionless, staring up at me; her mouth partly open, and I take the opportunity to put a biscuit in her mouth. It makes her cough and splutter. Crumbs fall down her front and litter the ground.
‘Ungrateful.’ I slap her face hard. ‘You need to learn some manners.’
Pressure: a dark and disturbing psychological thriller Page 18