Spider

by T E kessler

  Mess cleared, she moved to stand at the window, overlooking their private driveway and willed Harry’s car to pull in. It didn’t. Feeling chilled, Beth turned away and got ready for bed, her actions automatic. She knew she wouldn’t sleep. She lay worrying and, in the end, got up and called the local hospital just in case he’d had an accident. They had no admissions under his name.

  Finally, Beth climbed into bed with her mum; she didn’t want to sleep alone. Sleepily, Alison cuddled Beth—and Beth, pretending her mum was back with her, snuggled into her and sobbed silently as Alison gently snored.

  Beth drifted off. She dreamed of Yash and Harry duelling for her honour. She woke when Harry was killed by a single sting to his forehead.

  She lay there, heart-pounding, and stared up at the dark ceiling. She glanced at her clock. It was almost six-thirty. Her phone was flashing. She snatched it up. It was Lara who’d sent a late-night photo of herself in a hot tub.

  Careful not to wake her mum, she took her phone, grabbed her dressing gown, and padded out of Alison’s room into her own across the hall. As she dressed, she suddenly realised what Harry had said to her after she’d told him she had no choice but to agree to Yash’s terms. He said he was going to speak to James.

  Beth didn’t know James’ number or where he lived. Harry had mentioned he lived somewhere in Scotland, but Scotland was a big country.

  Fuck!

  She thumped the dresser. Then, scowling as she sucked her fist, she went into the kitchen and made herself a coffee. She sat in the kitchen, drinking it.

  Downstairs, she heard her staff arriving for work. The head chef came early; Friday was a busy day for the restaurant. She heard a door bang and listened to the alarm beep as he turned it off. She stayed where she was. The staff were more than capable.

  She listened out for Alison. Her mum often became lost in the house, although she was getting better at finding her way around. She didn’t like going downstairs into the pub but luckily their accommodation also had its own private back door and garden where they could come and go as they pleased. Hearing the toilet flush, Beth went out onto the landing to wait for her mum. Alison exited the bedroom, peeking her head around the door cautiously. On seeing Beth, she grinned and came over, and Beth took her into the kitchen.

  ‘Breakfast?’ she asked her mum.

  ‘Yes. Where’s Steven?’

  Alison still asked after her husband like she asked when they were ‘going home’. It must have felt strange to her; they’d lived in the terrace house for four years, the longest time in any place since they lost their family home, and now her husband lived in separate accommodation to them.

  ‘You’ll see Dad tonight,’ Beth said. ‘Karen will be here after breakfast to take you to Caring Hands. She’ll bring you home, as well, and look after you until Dad collects you.’ Karen was Alison’s carer, who took her all the way to Caring Hands three times a week now instead of two. Beth had decided not to change to a nearer respite for fear of causing more upheaval. There was already too much change going on for Alison. ‘You and Dad are having dinner at Sarah’s tonight. She’s cooking a curry. You love curry, don’t you?’

  ‘I hate curry. And I don’t want to go to Hands today. I want to stay with you.’

  ‘Oh, Mum, today of all days, please don’t be difficult,’ Beth said half to herself. Louder, she said, ‘I’ve bought that nice cereal you like.’

  Alison’s scowl vanished instantly, and she smiled and nodded. Beth thanked her lucky stars that her mum was so good-natured.

  After Alison had gone with her carer to Caring Hands and Beth found herself alone, she phoned Harry’s dad, Richard. He answered the phone with a terse greeting. Beth quickly identified herself and then explained that she and Harry had had a ‘small tiff’ and was he there.

  She may as well have asked for a million pounds.

  ‘Whether he’s here or not isn’t for me to say. If Harry wants to speak to you, he’d have called you already, so nothing I say or do will make him phone you.’

  ‘But he left his phone behind, so—’

  ‘I daresay he’s done that on purpose so you can’t bombard him with calls. You’ll see him when he’s ready, I sure.’

  She felt he was going to hang up on her, so quickly said, ‘I think he’s gone to see his uncle, James. Please, can you give me James’ number?’

  There was silence at the other end, then, ‘No.’

  He clicked off, and Beth stared at the phone in shock. She knew Harry’s dad had never approved of her and he was no longer on speaking terms with James Sullivan, but that was undeniably rude!

  She reread Yash’s message from yesterday, and then had the thought of calling him and asking him if he knew James. She rejected the idea immediately. Yash would take great delight in being short with her.

  She received a text as she was looking at her phone but stilled in horror as she saw it was from Yash. She opened it, her heart pounding.

  Your boyfriend’s pissed me off. Come tonight at 6 p.m. instead.

  FORTY-THREE

  She stared at the message in horror. Harry went to find Yash?

  ‘Oh no—oh, no, no, no,’ she said, staring at her phone. She dropped it on the counter, her fingers going to her hair where she tugged as she silently screamed. After a while, she picked up her phone and pressed in Yash’s number. She had to talk to him; she had to beg him not to hurt Harry. She’d do anything. Anything—

  ‘This better be good,’ he said.

  She was tongue-tied. She hadn’t expected Yash to answer.

  ‘I… please don’t hurt Harry,’ she said in a rush.

  ‘I already have.’

  Beth’s abdomen was a ball of knotted fire, and tears clogged her throat. Her heart thudded painfully and she couldn’t answer, but she must have made some sort of noise because Yash said, ‘Stop your sniffling. He isn’t dead. Until later, sweet cheeks.’ He hung up.

  Beth sank to the floor in the kitchen and pulled her knees into her chest. Her heart hadn’t lessened its speed—in fact, it felt out of control, and a tight band, which was now becoming familiar, pressed around her ribcage. A headache raged but Beth could do nothing as the panic attack pounded through her body. She thought she was going to die right there on the kitchen floor, shaking and making piteous sounds of despair.

  She didn’t know how long she sat like that for, battling with herself to get her panic under control, but when she felt well enough to stand up, she was stiff.

  She staggered towards the sink and ran the cold tap. She splashed herself with water and then poured herself a drink of water and swallowed a couple of headache tablets. She was a mess and useless to Harry in this state.

  Trying to get it together, Beth picked up her phone and texted her dad. She didn’t feel strong enough to call him; hearing his voice would only make her cry.

  Sorry Dad, but can you look after Mum all night? Karen will pick her up from Hands as usual and bring her back home.

  Steven replied a moment later.

  Of course, Sarah’s invited us round for a curry so I’ll come and pick her up, then I’ll stay overnight at the pub. Hope all is OK?

  She texted him back that all was well, and then stumbled into the lounge and sat on the settee to watch the hands on the parlour clock slowly turn.

  At four-thirty, she set off to meet Yash. She drove a BMW these days—her dad had her old Fiesta—but Beth felt she would give up her new job, home, and the car in an instant if it would help Harry.

  She arrived in the Ranch’s carpark twenty minutes early. She sat there, watching the clock and jumping every time the wind blew something against the car.

  Headlights swept into the carpark, and a Rolls-Royce pulled up next to her car. She knew instantly it belonged to Yash. The driver’s door opened and a black-clad figure stepped out. It was a Jelvia, but it wasn’t Yash. He approached her car as Beth watched, terrified, and rapped on her window. Beth opened her door and stepped out.

 
The Jelvia took her mobile phone from her slack fingers and tossed it into her car. He closed the door and then took her car keys off her and pocketed them. Beth didn’t say anything. She didn’t even make eye contact. Then the Jelvia turned her around and placed her hands upon the roof of her car, and proceeded to pat her down. Satisfied, he nodded towards the Rolls and she edged over towards it. The back door opened as she got near, and as she ducked inside, she saw Yash sitting on the backseat.

  ‘Good evening,’ he said, smiling his lopsided smile. The spider tattoo wriggled on his face and his long hair was pulled into a ponytail that lay flat against this back.

  ‘Where’s Harry?’

  ‘Patience.’ He looked forward as the driver climbed in and reversed the car. There was no partition separating them from the other Jelvia this time, but both ignored her anyway.

  It suited Beth. Her mouth felt so dry her lips were sticking to her teeth, but she remembered her breaths.

  In, one, two, three, four. Out, one, two, three, four. She couldn’t afford a panic attack now.

  It felt like an eternity driving to the big Jelvian house. The Rolls stopped, as before, to the side of the house on the gravel driveway. The driver didn’t get out. Yash stepped out and came around to open Beth’s door. When she climbed out, Yash took her wrist and together they walked around the back of the big house. Absently, Beth listened to gravel crunch as the Rolls drove away.

  The eerie silence of her surroundings, like last time, fed her imagination. Inside the house, she was taken up the grand staircase and back into the beautiful room. It was just as she remembered.

  Yash let her go, and Beth rubbed her wrist to get the circulation going again. She scanned the room for Harry, then looked back at Yash questioningly.

  ‘Go into the bathroom and get ready, Beth,’ he said.

  ‘Not until I know Harry’s safe.’

  ‘That isn’t part of the deal. You’re here to pay what you agreed you owe me. Harry’s safety is another deal, yet to be arranged.’

  She stared at Yash in horror, half expecting her panic to overwhelm her again, but instead, she felt a similar rage to the one she felt on Wandle Bridge. Her fists clenched and then on a roar of anger, she ran to an ornament sitting on a pedestal in an alcove in the wall. She grabbed it and ran at Yash with it in her hands. Yash stopped her with one hand around her throat, taking the ornament from her with the other.

  She gurgled under the pressure of his fingers.

  Yash let her go only to pick her up and throw her across the room towards the bed. She landed in the middle with a shriek, and as she bounced from the momentum of his throw, Yash straddled her.

  Beth put out her hands to ward him off, but he smacked them away, making her hiss with pain. He leaned over her and sniffed her skin. Beth closed her eyes and turned her head.

  ‘Last time I was gentle with you. This time don’t expect such kindness,’ he said.

  ‘D-do anything you like with me. I don’t care. Keep me here for a week—a month, even! Beat me, fuck me, do anything. But please, free Harry. He’s just trying to protect me. Yash, please.’

  ‘I don’t want to fuck you. I have a fetish, sweet cheeks: I like to inflict pain. I like to hear women cry and beg. You’re crying now,’ he said and touched a finger to her cheek where, she suspected, her eyes streamed beneath her closed lids. ‘But you need to beg. Beg me to beat you, Beth. Make it good. Beg for a beating.’

  Beth opened her eyes and stared up at him in horror.

  ‘Beg for your punishment,’ he said as she tried to formulate thoughts into words. She was too slow for Yash. He grabbed the front of her sweater, and Beth watched in paralysed horror as his claws protruded from his fingertips and ripped easily through the material, the tee-shirt beneath, and her wire bra.

  He parted her clothes, but he didn’t look at her exposed flesh. He stared straight into her eyes.

  ‘Beg,’ he said.

  On a cry, she said, ‘Beat me, Yash. Use your belt on me and beat me hard. Make me cry. Make me scream.’ As she spoke, he smiled. ‘Put me across your knee and spank me. Lay me over the table and hurt me. Hurt me, Yash.’ She spoke over and over, repeating her demands, just wanting him to get on with it and get it over with.

  He calmly climbed off her, walked over to the bathroom, and opened the door.

  ‘In you go,’ he said.

  Clutching the edges of her ruined clothes together, Beth swung her legs off the bed and sidled over to the bathroom. Inside, she turned to look at him.

  ‘I’m going to lock you in. You’ve an hour to yourself and to get into that over there.’ He nodded to a beautiful red gown hanging up inside the bathroom. ‘After an hour, the door will unlock, and you will come out and present yourself in the clothes I’ve provided. Understand?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I didn’t hear.’

  Clearing her throat, she said, ‘I understand.’

  He pulled the door closed, and she stood inside, listening to him turning the key in the lock. She held her breath, waiting, and heard the outer double door open and then close. When she was sure he’d gone, she sagged, and then sat down on the gold velvet chaise lounge before her legs gave way.

  She looked at the red dress. She wanted to rip it to pieces. After a while, she stood up and ran herself a bath, but only for something to do. Her mind was in overdrive. She felt sick with fear for Harry.

  She undressed, throwing her ruined clothes on the floor, and climbed in the tub, only to climb out again seconds later. How could she bathe knowing Harry was probably locked up somewhere in the house?

  She dried herself and picked up the lingerie wrapped in red tissue paper. She pulled the tissue away until her fingers touched silk. She pulled out a beautiful bustier, white with red rosebuds; there were also white stockings and the smallest white knickers she’d ever seen. Trying not to think, she pulled on the lingerie and then took the red gown off its hanger. She couldn’t deny it was a beautiful dress, full-skirted with silver sequins on the bodice. She stepped into it, feeling like she was dressing for the gallows, and then slipped her feet into the silver sandals. Blanking her thoughts, she turned to the dressing table and sat on the velvet seat in front of the mirror, took up a brush, and brushed her hair until it crackled. Then she reached for the makeup.

  She applied eyeliner and mascara, making her eyes look huge. Next, she took up red lipstick and painted her lips. She sat staring at herself, and then she ran her hands through her hair, making it messy, and using the back of her hand she smeared the lipstick across her face.

  She stopped, her hand against her mouth, and listened. She turned to the door, her hands dropping to her lap. Again, she heard a sound coming from the bedroom outside. Her heart began to thud. Her hour was up.

  Yash had come for her.

  FORTY-FOUR

  She stared at the door, not wanting it to open yet also wanting it to so she could get the night over with. A tear plopped onto her hand and she drew a ragged breath.

  In, one, two, three, four. Out, one, two, three, four.

  Despite her calming breaths, her heart rate began to escalate.

  ‘Oh, no, no,’ she moaned, and dashed her tears away, smearing her mascara. ‘Strong,’ she whispered, feeling her chest begin to tighten. ‘I need to be strong for Harry.’

  She wrapped her arms around herself, comforting herself as she waited for the door to open.

  She heard something. It sounded like footsteps, but not assured footsteps. She listened to a sound as if someone had knocked into something followed by a grunt. Beth raised her head and unwrapped her arms from her body. There was another grunt and a thud. It sounded like someone outside was knocking into furniture.

  She stilled her movements, cocking an ear. She heard another groan. This time it sounded like a groan of pain.

  ‘Oh my God!’ She raced to the door and began to bang on it. ‘Harry! Harry!’

  The grunts stopped, and Beth pressed her ear against the cool
wood of the door. There was silence from the other room. Maybe it wasn’t Harry? Perhaps this was Yash’s idea of a sick joke?

  ‘Beth?’

  Beth sagged in relief. She patted the door. ‘I’m in here. I’m locked in.’

  ‘I’m… I’m… hang on… keep tapping.’ She heard more grunting, another thud, and heard Harry swear. ‘Speak to me, Beth. Tap the door. I can’t see.’

  Beth tapped the door. ‘Why can’t you see? What has Yash done to you?’

  ‘Blindfold,’ he said. There was a heavy thud, and Harry groaned in pain. Then there was a shuffling noise. Beth continued to tap on the door.

  ‘The room’s separated by two steps,’ she said.

  ‘I think I’ve fallen down them twice,’ Harry said.

  She pressed her head against the wood. ‘I love you,’ she said.

  ‘Ouch, fuck,’ Harry said. ‘That’s the bed then.’

  ‘If you feel where the pillows are, stand and face away from the bed. Four long strides will take you to the bathroom.’

  ‘Which side of the bed?’

  She banged on the door.

  ‘That side, eh? Okay, hang on…’

  She continued to tap, listening to Harry and the bed. It squeaked slightly as he moved on it. She heard a shuffling of footsteps and then a searching hand as Harry felt his way along the walls. She continued to tap and then, finally, she heard him outside the door. She listened to him searching for the key in the lock. Then, she saw movement in the keyhole as Harry turned the key. The door swung open, and Harry half turned—his hands were tied behind his back, his feet were bound, and he had a hood over his head and tied around his neck.

  His clothes were torn in places.

  Beth rushed forward and began to tug at the hood. The string around his neck was cutting into his skin.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m fine. What about you? Has he touched you? Because he promised me he wouldn’t.’

  ‘No, he hasn’t. I can’t get the hood off! Wait…’ She rushed back into the bathroom where she’d spotted a pair of nail scissors. She grabbed them and ran back to Harry. ‘I’ve scissors,’ she told him. ‘I’ll cut you free.