The Rattler (Rattler Trilogy Book 1)

by P. A. Fielding

  As Karen came into the room, Zoe felt sad to see the young girl. She was so petite and her plastered legs looked quite enormous; the fact that the casts were bright pink made them look even bigger.

  “Hello! I’m Zoe.”

  “I’m Karen.”

  “Right,” said the nurse, pushing Karen up to the bed. “I’ll leave you to it. Be back shortly, but buzz if you need anything.” Karen was fascinated by Zoe’s tubes and monitors. “What happened to you?” she asked, shyly. “Oh, I was just being stupid, that’s all. I was running around too much without eating and drinking enough.” Karen smiled. “That’s nearly as silly as me climbing a tree to rescue my kitten!”

  “Are you very sore?”

  “It hurt a lot when I fell.” She rubbed her knees. “I just wish I could get rid of these itches – it’s horrible. And, it’s not easy going to the loo!” The girls laughed. “Shall we play Chess? What colour do you want?”

  Karen set up the chessboard she had brought in with her, and the girls spent some time together until it was time for the doctor’s rounds. Madison was listening outside the door. “What are you up to?” asked a nurse who was walking past. “Shsh, just being nosy; I’m hoping that Karen might be able to take Zoe’s mind off her problems. She needs a bit of a distraction.”

  4

  “Do you still keep in touch with her?” asked Barbara. “Yes. We wrote to each other regularly at first, and we still e-mail each other.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Still in Leeds, studying for her GCSEs.”

  The girls enjoyed their time together, but Karen was discharged the next day. Zoe told Nurse Madison that she had let Karen win at Chess, but the truth was that Karen could play really well. Talking to Karen had really helped Zoe, and had taken her mind off the reason why she was in hospital. Deep down she wished that her new friend could have been with her that little bit longer.

  33: The drugs don’t work...

  1

  Zoe was sitting up in bed, watching television. She was feeling bored; Karen had been discharged, and mum had left for the day. Vana couldn’t visit because there was something going on at school. Zoe flicked through the available channels – all five of them! There wasn’t any satellite or cable TV in this particular hospital; “Cheapskates,” said Zoe.

  “I’m so bored! PlayStation, I miss you,” she moaned, throwing the television remote down on the bed, where it bounced down onto the floor. Zoe struggled out of bed, and slowly walked over to where it had landed, just underneath a small cabinet. As she reached out for the control, she caught sight of herself in a mirror which was on the inside of the partially open door. She looked at her reflection in horror. She opened the door wider, and knelt there – trance-like. Suddenly, she got to her feet and dashed out of the room, past Nurse Madison who was sorting out patients’ medication at the Nurses’ Station, and headed towards the bathroom.

  “Zoe, whatever’s the matter?” called Nurse Madison, horrified at the look on Zoe’s face. “Why are you running?” Zoe ignored the nurse’s call, and dashed into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her. Nurse Madison ran to Zoe’s room, saw the mirror on the cabinet, and realised that Zoe had caught sight of her reflection. “Damn! Why was this in the room? How did I miss it?”

  She turned, and moved quickly to the bathroom, slowly pushed open the door, and found her patient kneeling over the toilet. “Oh, Zoe, my dear,” she said, softly, as she helped Zoe to her feet. “Come on, lass, let’s get you refreshed.”

  Nurse Madison gently washed Zoe’s grief-stricken face, and guided her back to her room, where she tucked her up in bed. The poor girl was definitely still ill; all of Zoe’s efforts, and those of the doctors and care team, had been undone by one look in a mirror. Madison settled Zoe down, and then walked out of the room, leaving the door slightly open. She went back to the Station to make her report to Dr Smith. A single tear ran down her face. This was a heartbreaking moment for the conscientious nurse, and one of the few times she had shed a tear for a patient in the whole of her 20 year career. This was the reality of Anorexia. It was an on-going battle. She composed herself, sat down at the desk, and picked up the telephone.

  Zoe’s care continued for another couple of weeks, during which time she seemed to be making progress. There had not been any further blips and she was now eating small portions of solid food. The doctors agreed that she could be discharged, so she left hospital with a treatment plan in place, which included medical appointments, dietary changes and psychological therapy.

  2

  Barbara recalled that this was the start of her long-standing relationship with Zoe. The psychologist sipped some water. “Zoe, let’s leave that behind and I would like you to flash forward now to the point in time that caused you to be unwell again.” As soon as she spoke, she felt a sudden chill in the room which made her shiver. Zoe’s hands started to tremble again. “What is it? What do you see? Just relax, breathe slowly, in and out, in and out. That’s good. You are perfectly safe here. When you’re ready, tell me where you are and what do you see.”

  “I’m walking around my new bedroom.”

  “Are you alone?”

  “Yes. The others are downstairs.”

  “Good. Now tell me, what do you feel?” asked Barbara, as she continued to take notes. “My room’s empty. The sun is shining through the windows, and it is highlighting the particles of dust floating in the air. I can hear partying and singing coming from the neighbours, and several police sirens in the distance. I had the choice of bedrooms and, somehow, felt drawn to this one.” Barbara stopped writing.

  “Why do you think that was?”

  “I can’t explain it; it’s a strange feeling – spooky if you like.”

  “Zoe, what do you mean by spooky?”

  “Well, I felt as if I was being watched.”

  “By who? Who would be watching you?”

  “Not sure really, but I think it’s the old woman.”

  “The lady from your dreams?” Barbara started to make notes again. “Yes,” replied Zoe, quietly. “OK,” said Barbara, taking another sip of water. “Well, I think we need to banish her once and for all from your memory. She can’t hurt you. She’s just part of your imagination, that’s all, nothing else.”

  “She feels so real.”

  “Dreams often feel very real. Now, I want you to think of a blackbird chick, waiting in the nest for its mother to return. The mother comes back, bringing food. Even when the mother is away hunting, the chick feels safe and secure because she can hear the adult singing; she knows she is never really alone. Whenever you feel uneasy, or frightened, I want you to picture that young blackbird.” Zoe began to sweat. “It’s OK, Zoe; just relax and listen to the bird sing.” Barbara paused for a few seconds. “Now I’m going to count, slowly, and when I get to ten, you will wake up, and you will feel relaxed and refreshed.”

  3

  Zoe slowly came round from the hypnosis. She lay on the bed for a few seconds before sitting up and stretching. “How did that feel?” asked Barbara, as she poured Zoe a glass of water. “Good, thanks. I feel so relaxed. It’s as if a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders,” smiled Zoe. Barbara felt re-assured – but still had reservations. “Good, but I think you should have a chat with your doctor. He might feel you need to go back on your medication for a short while. We can’t really afford for you to relapse – your body won’t be able to cope with it again.” She took out her diary.

  “Would you like to come and see me again next week? I shall be here in London until Monday morning, then I’m on the train back to Leeds. You can always give me a ring while I’m here if you need a chat.”

  “Yes, I’d like that.”

  4

  As Barbara was going back up to her suite after saying goodbye to Zoe downstairs in the Reception Hall, she was not as confident as she appeared. Zoe certainly seemed to be more relaxed, and positive that she had this beaten, but she was fighting the su
pernatural – and that was something Barbara did not have a lot of experience about.

  Barbara bit her bottom lip; she watched from the window as a cheerful Zoe got into a taxi. She knew she had to sever the link between the bad memories and Zoe’s Anorexia. The problem was, how?

  And worse still, Hagatha knew Zoe’s weakness – Little Miss Piggy.

  34: Bad people always get bitten one day

  1

  Zoe walked back into the house just after 5.00 pm. All was quiet as she hung up her jacket. The house felt warm; at last the heating was working. The spare keys were on the side so she knew that Vana was around somewhere. “Hello there! Anyone home? Vana – you back yet?” shouted Zoe. “In here – in the kitchen,” replied Vana. “Come here, you’ve gotta see this.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Just look at this. Park your bum.”

  “Where are the lads?”

  “They’ve just gone for a run. They’ll be back soon, but never mind them. Here, look.” Vana pointed to Zoe’s laptop lying open on the table. The screen was showing a news report from a local Leeds newspaper. “What am I looking at?” asked a confused Zoe. “Scroll to the picture at the top of the page. I’ll make you a coffee.”

  “It’s not going to freak me out, is it?”

  “Just move the mouse up the page.”

  Zoe did as she was told, and saw a photograph of a 19 year old girl. It didn’t take long for Zoe to recognise the young woman – it was Helen Blackwell, the wannabee model and school bully. She quickly scanned the text, and was horrified by what she read. Vana brought over the coffee.

  “Well, what do you make of that?”

  “I don’t know. My mind’s gone blank.”

  “You’ve got to have some reaction to that news, surely?”

  2

  Helen was expensively dressed in a black and white compact jersey short-sleeved dress by Stella McCartney, with black heels, and carrying a white Radley handbag – all perks of being a model. On her left wrist she wore an Omega watch, and gold bangles jangled on her other arm. Her nails were brightly manicured. Her blonde hair was neatly styled with long extensions, and she was expertly made up – with special emphasis paid to her large, blue eyes. She acted every inch the model, and was pleased with the admiring looks she got from men as she passed one of the local pubs. She ignored the crude comments they made as she continued down a narrow cobbled street which opened up to a paved area alongside the Leeds/Liverpool canal. She didn’t, however, notice the attention she got from a female on the other side of the street, who was watching her like a hawk.

  Helen sauntered towards a lively pub. The weather was hot, the sun was shining, and tables spilled out onto the pavement. Two men were smoking and drinking outside. They both grinned with dirty thoughts as she approached, then stared at her arse as she entered the bar in search of her friends. The men turned and sucked in their cheeks. “The legs on that,” said one, enjoying his pint. “I’d definitely kick the missus out of bed for a piece of that,” said the other.

  The pub was crowded with a mix of young professionals from the finance sector and students from Leeds University. “Over here, Helen. We’re over here in the corner!” shouted someone. As Helen turned, she saw her three friends sitting near to the bar. These were the girls she had been at school with, and they were now studying at Leeds University. The girls, Tracy, Kaz and Julia, were all slim, and dressed typically as students with expensive Diesel jeans and hoodies. The girls certainly attracted a lot of attention from the red-blooded males around. “You took your time; we’ve been waiting ages for you,” said Tracy, pointing at her designer watch. “Sorry, girls,” replied Helen with a false smile. “Got delayed – stupid, inexperienced photographer!”

  “Never mind. You’re here now. What’s it to be? Red or White?” asked Julia, as she got up from the table.

  3

  The four friends enjoyed a bottle of red wine, and some shots, with their lunch, and the conversation got louder and louder. Helen checked her watch. “Sorry, girls. That’s me done, I’ll have to go.”

  “What? It’s a bit early,” said Julia, who was just about to order another bottle of wine.

  “I know, but I’m meeting Mike.”

  “Enough said,” grumbled Kaz. “Never mind, we’ll just get pissed without you.”

  The girls hugged and said their goodbyes. Unbeknown to them, that would be the last time the four friends would be together. Helen tottered out of the bar, getting even more male attention than she got when she went in. She crossed over a bridge, and started walking along the side of the canal. Suddenly she heard the sound of footsteps running behind her. She instinctively stopped, and stepped aside to make room. No-one passed. She turned, expecting to see a runner in the distance. No-one. She was all alone.

  As she carried on along the path, the trees on the embankment swayed gently in the breeze, and the noise from the pub became just a distant murmur. Her phone beeped and, taking it from her bag, Helen saw that it was a message from Mike, asking where she was. She answered, saying 5 mins away. Helen soon approached a bridge which led to a footpath into Mike’s estate. All of a sudden, a cold breeze shot across the canal, making ripples on the water. The swell seemed to speed towards her. The sky darkened as she walked under the dark, eerie bridge. Graffiti covered the walls, plastic bags found homes amongst the weeds, and an old, rusty, shopping trolley could be seen just below the water-line. She shivered. “You must be Helen,” a voice said.

  She turned, but there was no-one there. Not a soul in sight. As she turned back towards the footpath, a smelly old woman blocked her way. “Jesus Christ, you scared me!” said Helen, hugging her handbag to her chest. Hagatha stood there. “Can I get passed, please?” demanded Helen.

  Hagatha said nothing, just shook her head slowly from side to side. “HELLO! I need to get passed,” Helen said, angrily.

  “Not this time.”

  “Come on, you old hag. Move it.”

  As Helen tried to force her way through, Hagatha pushed her backwards. The model flew across the ground and landed on a plastic bag in the middle of the path. As she fell, she felt her ribs crack and she was completely winded. Helen tried to scream, but all she could manage was a single yelp. Hagatha started towards her, and, in desperation Helen attempted to move backwards – in vain. Black mascara tears ran down her face, and she sobbed. “What do you want? Here, take my handbag; you can have my Omega as well – just let me go,” she pleaded.

  Her attacker stood over her. “There can only be one person in charge of Little Miss Piggy,” Hagatha croaked. “What are you talking about? You’ve lost me, I don’t know what you mean?” cried Helen, wiping the hot tears from her face. No response. Instead the old woman ran her long, dirty, green fingernails down Helen’s beautiful, porcelain-like face. She then placed her hands around the model’s neck and slowly and deliberately throttled her.

  Helen’s mutilated body was found some time later by a horrified dog-walker.

  35: Nightmares in Chelsea

  1

  Zoe closed the lid on the laptop. “I can’t believe that happened today,” she said, sipping her coffee. She couldn’t take in what she had read. “I’m just so glad we don’t still live there. The place is full of sickos, if you ask me,” replied Vana, who had not lost any love for Helen. “Yeah, I agree, but no matter how much she bullied me at school, I still wouldn’t have wished that on her.”

  The girls sat at the table thinking about Helen. It didn’t take them long to contact former school friends via Facebook to talk about the horrific news. A Facebook page was set up to remember Helen, and people pretended to write kind things about her. Vana struggled to think of anything nice, so just reluctantly posted –

  R I P.

  Zoe had mixed emotions; should she or shouldn’t she? In the end, she felt she had to write something – You hurt me back then, but you didn’t deserve to die like that.

  2

  The lads returned fro
m their run, and quickly showered whilst the girls ordered pizza, which was delivered by the same delivery boy – with whom Vana continued to flirt. The friends spent a quiet evening together. Zoe briefly mentioned her trip to the Savoy. However, it was Helen’s horrific death that was top topic; well, for Vana – she couldn’t stop bitching about her.

  “She certainly ticked all the boxes – good looks, boobs, and legs,” said Matthew, as he browsed an article about Helen on his phone. “But, by the sound of it, her mouth was a sewer. She’d be a classic example of a gag bird,” added Matthew.

  “What?” asked a confused Vana.

  “A gag bird – you’d have to shut her up during sex,” replied her vulgar boyfriend.

  3

  Zoe fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. Talking to Barbara had helped her to relax, and even the shock of Helen’s horrific death did not bother her too much – at first...

  Vana, on the other hand, felt quite awake, despite being shattered earlier. She lay for a while, listening to her friend’s gentle breathing, and eventually drifted off into an uneasy sleep – or did she? In the background she could hear a faint thrumming which seemed to come from the landing. She glanced over at Zoe who was still sleeping peacefully, got out of bed and crept over to the doorway.

  As she quietly opened the door, the noise seemed to move. It drifted up the stairs and appeared to waft over the ceiling. Vana cautiously followed the vibrations, just pausing to switch on the landing light. She searched the whole of the second floor; all seemed to be in order but, as she turned to go back down the stairs, she could hear something else. A strange scratching, scraping sound swirled around over her head.

  “What the effin’ hell is that?”

  Vana, being Vana, couldn’t let this go. She turned again and crept towards the attic. The noises got louder and louder. She reached for the doorknob, paused, took a deep breath and slowly pushed open the door. She walked into the dark room. BANG! The door slammed behind her and, as her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, she could make out a weird shape. She squinted.