Forward Slash

by Louise Voss

  He sighed and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. ‘Amy, baby, I’m sorry – I didn’t know it would be so hard for you.’

  Amy stared at him, uncomprehending.

  ‘Why did you do it? Are you punishing me for something? What did I do to upset you?’

  He reached out for her again, and she flinched away.

  ‘Don’t be like that, Amy. It’s no big deal, honestly. I just thought you’d be safer in there while I was out. There have been all these dodgy guys getting into the building and trying to sell chamois leathers and shit door-to-door – didn’t you see the warning notice in the lobby? And then there’s the caretaker, I don’t trust him at all. Have you seen the way he looks at you? I just couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you, darling, I love you so much.’

  He’s a psycho, she thought. He’s completely bonkers and I’m going to have to leave him. Her heart sank, and next time she looked at him, she saw only concern in his eyes, and the love that up until then she hadn’t seriously ever doubted.

  Yes, he was sometimes moody and distant and jealous – but nothing like this had happened before.

  She walked slowly forwards into his arms, inhaling his damp skin. Even after a workout, he smelled good. His arms tightened around her and gradually she lifted hers to wrap around his waist. Her hands were still shaking.

  ‘I don’t know what that was about, Nathan,’ she said slowly and distinctly, over his shoulder. ‘But it was too much. If you ever, ever do that to me again, we’re over. Do you understand?’

  She felt him nod. He pressed himself closer to her and his cock stiffened against her belly.

  ‘Promise me.’

  ‘I promise,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Amy, I don’t know what came over me. I know it was wrong. It’s because I love you so much, I suddenly got in a panic about someone coming to the door and raping you, and me not being there. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.’

  ‘That’s not a normal reaction, you know that.’

  He shrugged. ‘We’re not a normal couple,’ he said. He released his grip and took her hand. ‘Come on, I need a bath. Can we have one together?’

  As the bath ran, they undressed one another. Panicked images of her captivity kept flashing through her head, but Amy forced herself to concentrate on the man she loved, the texture of his skin, the flecks of gold in his sorrowful eyes. Once they were completely naked and the bath was full, he climbed in first and lay down, his erection sticking comically out of the bubbles. Amy got in too and lowered herself down on top of him, the adrenaline in her system transferring itself into sheer animal lust. She closed her eyes and forced herself to forget the past two hours.

  At some stage, they rolled over and Amy found herself underneath, the hot water tickling the sides of her face and occasionally sloshing over her as Nathan pounded into her.

  ‘Slut,’ he hissed into her ear, but her ear had water in it and she wasn’t sure she had heard correctly.

  She started, and tried to push him off her, but all his weight was on her, pressing her down. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said, you’re a slut, Amy Coltman. A stupid slut. I lock you in a cupboard all afternoon and you still want to shag me? What’s wrong with you?’

  Amy put her hands against his shoulders to try to push him harder, tears springing back to her eyes. ‘Five minutes ago, you said you’d never do it again. Five minutes! Don’t you want to be with me? Is this your way of saying we’re finished? Well, that’s fine with me. I’m leaving. I never want to see you again!’

  Nathan climbed out of the bath and stood over her, dripping and furious, an expression of pure hatred on his face. A clump of bubbles slid slowly down his right arm – then flew off and dissipated in the air as he raised his hand and slapped her face, hard.

  ‘You,’ he said, almost calmly, ‘are going nowhere. You’re mine, and I’m going to make sure you never fucking forget it.’

  He took one of the towels off the rail and wrapped it around his waist. Then he flicked the other one over his shoulder, switched off the light in the windowless room, took the key out of the door and left the room. The sudden silence of the extractor fan meant that Amy, her cheek stinging and aching, clearly heard the sound of the key being turned in the lock.

  ‘Oh, no. Not again. No no no no no,’ she muttered, staggering to her feet and climbing out of the bath into the damp darkness. Instinctively, she felt around for a towel, then remembered he’d taken both of them. No towel. No light. Her heart began to pound, and she rattled the door handle. The door didn’t budge.

  ‘Nathan!’ she wailed, unsure if the darkness she saw in front of her eyes was because she was blacking out. She hit the light switch – but nothing happened. The bastard must have turned the lights off at the fuse box. ‘Let me out!’

  Silence. She knew there was no point in banging and shouting – and, anyway, all the strength to do so had vanished from her, dripping off her like the cooling water on her body. Gooseflesh broke out all over her wet skin.

  Wearily, she climbed back into the bath and lay down so the warmth enveloped her. But how long would it stay warm for?

  Another twenty minutes, was the answer.

  When the water chilled to tepid, Amy sat up and twisted the hot tap – but only cold water came out. The hot-water tank was empty.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  She lay down again, shivering uncontrollably, but by now the water was cold enough to be of no further comfort. They had no plans for that night, so nobody would miss her. She wished fervently that she’d taken Becky up on her invitation to the movies, but she’d declined. She’d have to go straight to Becky’s when he finally let her out … Amy made a brief inventory of what she needed to take with her: a few changes of clothes in that overnight bag on top of the wardrobe; toiletries – well, most of them were in here with her, so she could at least pack her contraceptive pills and cosmetics. That might pass a bit of time, especially trying to do so in the dark. Then she made another, longer, inventory, of what she was losing: the three kids they’d planned – kids with Nathan’s black hair and lithe bodies – Olly, Molly and Polly. The fourth, if they had one, was going to be Solly – the Jewish one. Their little joke. No more little jokes. No more home, no more leisurely Sunday walks and pub lunches, no more holidays – oh, no, the holiday! They had already made half the down payment on a holiday to Sardinia next summer.

  Fuck the holiday. He’d probably have drowned her in the swimming pool if they had taken that villa.

  Do not panic, she urged herself. It’s not like the wardrobe, it’s not a small space. Look – plenty of room to move around. She forced herself to climb out of the bath again, but she was shivering so much that she slipped and fell, banging her knee hard on the lino.

  The only thing in the room that could possibly keep her warm was the bathmat, which she put around her shoulders, and a dry flannel she found on the floor, which she draped over the tops of her feet and tucked in.

  She sat in that position on the cold, wet lino for hours, all her muscles and sinews and bones cramping into lock-down until it felt as though even the blood in her veins was slowly freezing from the edges in, like a fast-moving stream stilled into winter immobility. Her thoughts kept drifting to Nathan’s razor on the basin … would it hurt, to slash her wrists? She could do it then get back into the cold bath. No, sod it, she’d bleed all over the lino, let him deal with that. Why should she make it easy for him?

  Whenever something like this had happened before, she’d forced herself to think positive, think of all Nathan’s good points, the beauty of his eyes, the good, kind side of him; thought becoming reality, forcing him to be his higher self, not the lower, baser, jealous one.

  Not any more.

  Eventually, the blood must have drained from her head because a huge dizziness overcame her, and the darkness was briefly punctuated with tiny dancing stars. Like a fallen statue, she toppled slowly over onto her side, her blue skin taut
and marbled over her aching frame.

  She had no idea what time it was when Nathan finally opened the door, but light streamed in, so it must have been the next day. He came over to her and wordlessly tried to help her up. She was so cold and stiff that she couldn’t object as he carried her into the bedroom and laid her under the duvet with a hot-water bottle.

  When she thawed out enough to move, she waited until Nathan left the room to go to the bathroom and then to make tea, slipped out of bed, hastily dressed and shoved a few things into a bag, her muscles creaking and straining under protest, and pins and needles stabbing her hands and feet. Then she hid behind the open bedroom door, her heart rate accelerating until she was sure he’d hear her breathing. He walked down the hallway carrying two steaming cups of tea – she could see him through the thin gap between the door and the frame – and, as his foot crossed the threshold into the bedroom, she slammed the door in his face as hard as she could. He screamed and collapsed to his knees, swearing at her, as boiling tea erupted over him, like lava, and blood spewed from his nose.

  Amy looked down at him writhing at her feet, picked up her bag, stepped over him swiftly before he could grab her ankle, and left the flat for the last time.

  Underneath the feelings of hollow chill and terror, another burgeoning emotion emerged, growing with every new step away from him:

  Relief.

  28

  Amy

  Thursday, 25 July

  Gary pulled Amy back into the building, the heavy door thudding shut behind her. She twisted in his grip, pressing herself against the door, her breath misting the glass as she panted with terror. Where was everybody? Where was that bloody nosy neighbour when she needed him? She banged on the door anyway, shouted, ‘Help!’ Gary was saying her name over and over, gripping the tops of her arms, trying to turn her around to face him. Her bag was at her feet, half its contents spilling out, not a single thing she could use as a weapon … she almost always had knitting needles in her bag but, sod’s law, not today.

  ‘Amy …’

  He made another effort to spin her around, but she gripped the door handle and kicked backwards, the steel toecap of her motorcycle boot connecting with his knee.

  ‘Fuck!’ He let go and she turned to find him bent over, clutching his kneecap. She shoved him with every ounce of strength she possessed and, off balance, he toppled over, landing on his side.

  She grabbed her phone and fumbled with it, pressing ‘Emergency call’ and managing ‘9’ before Gary jumped up. She held the phone up but he pulled her arm down sharply, pulling a muscle in her shoulder. She yelled with pain, trying to hit him with the phone.

  ‘Get away from me!’ she screamed, and the volume made him back away, holding his palms up, breathing as heavily as she was.

  ‘You’ve got it … all wrong,’ he said.

  ‘What have you done with Becky? Where is she?’

  He moved towards her and she backed away, grabbing the door handle again, holding the phone out with her thumb hovering over the ‘9’.

  ‘You’ve killed her, haven’t you?’

  ‘Amy, this is insane. Of course I haven’t killed her! I haven’t done anything with her. Come on, you must know this is crazy.’

  ‘Then what were you doing in her flat that weekend she went missing?’

  ‘Getting a box set.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I lent Becky my Breaking Bad box set before I’d seen it all, and she’d had it for ages. I’d gone round before to ask for it back but ended up leaving without it … I really wanted to watch it but she wasn’t in … so I let myself in. I just grabbed it and came straight out again. I forgot to double-lock the door on the way out.’

  She didn’t know whether to believe him or not. But it was such a mundane excuse, so straightforward, that she felt her conviction wavering, her fear beginning to drain away.

  ‘But … why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?’

  His face coloured. ‘I was embarrassed, wasn’t I? I hardly knew you and I didn’t want you thinking I’d been creeping around your sister’s flat while she wasn’t there.’

  ‘Which is exactly what you had been doing.’

  ‘I wasn’t creeping. I went straight into the front room, found the DVDs, grabbed them and left.’

  ‘What day was this?’

  His eyes flicked upwards, like he was trying to look at his brain. ‘Last Sunday – the day you turned up looking for Becky.’

  Her breathing had almost returned to normal now. ‘I don’t know whether to believe you.’

  Gary took a small step towards her, but she said, ‘Uh-uh. Don’t come any closer.’

  ‘Amy, I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I would never hurt you. I …’ He trailed off, looking pained.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m in love with you, Amy.’

  ‘Oh, hell.’

  ‘I know you don’t feel the same way. I get that. I can deal with it. But I swear on my mother’s life I would never hurt you. Or Becky. I don’t know what’s happened to her either – and no, I don’t think she’s buggered off to Asia, either. I’m just as worried about her as you are.’

  ‘I doubt that.’

  He shrugged. Then he stared at the ground and chewed his lip.

  ‘What is it?’ she demanded.

  ‘There’s something else I need to tell you.’

  She backed away again. She could hear music coming from one of the flats upstairs. If she screamed as loud as she could, surely someone would hear her and come running? Why hadn’t they heard her before?

  ‘Go on then, tell me,’ she said.

  ‘Let’s go upstairs. I don’t want to talk about it in a public stairwell.’

  ‘No way.’ She looked through the door. ‘Let’s go outside. Where there are people.’

  They left the building and crossed the road to the park, Gary limping quite badly. Suddenly surrounded by life, playing children, sunbathers, joggers and dogs running around, Amy felt a lot safer. The sun was warm on her face and her pulse slowed. They sat either end of a bench, half turning towards each other.

  ‘So?’ Amy said.

  He hesitated. ‘You know that night you were in Becky’s flat and someone tried the door?’

  ‘Yes …’

  He couldn’t meet her eye. ‘That was me.’

  Her jaw fell open. ‘You what?’

  ‘I’d been to the pub and then when I got back I thought you’d be gone. I didn’t notice your bike outside. I just wanted to check, see if Becky had come back. But then when you called out, sounding scared, I panicked. I thought that if you knew it was me trying to let myself into the flat, you might think I was weird or that I had something to do with Becky’s disappearance. I was quite drunk. Anyway, I ran off and then I had to lie and tell you I was in the pub and go along with the whole thing with the police … I’m really sorry.’

  She stared at him, incredulous. ‘I don’t believe you, Gary.’

  ‘It’s true, I swear.’ He stretched his leg out and rubbed his kicked knee, still not looking at her.

  ‘No, I mean, I can’t believe you would do that. I was terrified. And you are clearly a very good actor – you had me completely fooled.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry. It was stupid – but it was also totally innocent. I hated that I’d scared you.’

  She folded her arms. ‘Or maybe you thought if you scared me, I’d be more likely to come to you looking for comfort.’

  ‘No, Amy, it wasn’t like that. It was just one of those things where you panic and then find yourself trapped and having to lie. I feel shitty about it. That’s why I’m telling you now.’

  ‘Hm,’ Amy said.

  He squirmed, his face turning pink. Amy scrutinized him. She did like him, and felt confident that he was a good guy. But she couldn’t allow it to go any further than that. She wasn’t ready.

  ‘Listen, Gary, I like you too. And the other night was fantastic, it really was. But I told yo
u – I don’t do relationships. I’m not ready, not after everything that happened with Nathan. I’m pissed off that you lied to me, but I suppose I get it, under the circumstances.’

  The only word she could think of to describe Gary’s expression was ‘crestfallen’. But he nodded. ‘I’m really sorry. If I ever meet this fucking Nathan bloke, I’m going to punch him in the head.’

  She smiled faintly. ‘As long as you promise to video it and upload it to YouTube.’

  ‘Deal.’

  Amy watched a squirrel descend from a nearby tree, grab a discarded crisp and shoot back up the trunk. It made her think of Boris, who had been badly neglected the last couple of days. She would take him on the longest walk ever later.

  ‘So, if there’s really nothing else you need to tell me,’ she said, ‘I’m going to go home now and walk Boris. I don’t think we should see each other for a while.’

  ‘Oh, Amy, I said I’m sorry I lied to you.’

  She stood up and he stayed seated, staring up at her like a little boy.

  ‘It’s not just that. It’s all of it, Gary. I just think we need some distance from each other. It doesn’t mean I don’t ever want to see you again – as a friend, I mean – but not right now. And – I’m sorry about your knee, I hope it’s OK.’

  He opened his mouth to protest but then shut it. He looked like a beaten man.

  ‘So,’ Amy said, ‘I’m going to go now. I don’t want you to contact me unless you hear anything that can help me find Becky, OK?’

  He nodded and she walked away, her insides aching.

  Back at home, Amy gave Boris a cuddle, then went upstairs and ran herself a bath. These days, she always took a bath with the door open, and she could hear Boris padding around downstairs. She didn’t want to think about any of it, needed to let her brain rest for an hour, so she leafed through a crafting magazine, looking at a complicated pattern for an Aran dog sweater, trying to work out if it was within her capabilities and, if it was, whether Boris would deign to be seen dead in it. He got so cold in winter.

  Unfortunately, the magazine reminded her of how little work she’d done since Becky had disappeared. Never mind knitting dog jackets, her business was going to crumble from beneath her if she didn’t spend some time on the site.